Following up the fairy-like princess, her lovely hands and arms became tree branches; the tree Stomp would be the body itself alone, the legs and the feet connect underground root-to-root, filled with silver-made clay mythic treestone, reaching out to the world left and right, she stuck there forevermore. Eternal life, her love started to fade away, until the leaves flew charmingly. Spirit arrives; the dark witches stoned her fresh and bone. The prince was willing to find her heart and glory; he tried to reach her like that. He ran so fast, constantly, constantly. One autumn night, acclaim, one full moonshine brightened, he saw and saw the stoned tree; he knew about the princess right there, front and center. He knelt, and pouring his own tears, he had a broken, fateful love. The witch disappeared in thin air, the prince crawled close, a little bit further, and further down through her precious grave, but the prince failed; he killed himself with his own legendary sword, because of her life within.
Written by
Michael
James Brindley
5-11-26
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