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Alright, my little rascals, I hear you’re in need of some good storytellin’ and it just so happens I have some good stories worth tellin’.

I know you’ve heard of me, or at least my reputation as a storyteller. Otherwise, you wouldn’t’ve come to find me. Unfortunately, you’ve only ever heard the rhymes version. Believe it or not, I actually have seen some things and had a few experiences that prompted them to be written down.

Before we get too far down that road, I should probably tell you a little bit about myself.

I live in a wooded area just outside a small farmin’ town of Westler. If you’ve never heard of it, don’t feel bad, most haven’t. 

Anyhoo –

In our town, there is a collection of orphaned children. They do like to horse play before they drift off to the land of dreams. The caretaker there struggled with such a cumbersome task of gettin’ all the little ones to bed. He had quite stepped outside his senses when he came to find me. When he finally caught up to me, he asked if I’d come help him with gettin’um to sleep. Tell them of my adventures and such.

Over the next few months, my stories left my mouth and sunk right into those children’s imaginations. Enjoyin’ them, they told my stories to other young minds in the town and, well, my adventures spread across this area like fire across dried leaves.

Every night, more and more children wandered into the orphanage and either stood around the room or just out in the hallway to hear my excitin’ tales. Personally, I think most of my stories are just fiddle faddle, while others aren’t that fun to recollect. Ma would have said those were learnin’ experiences. However, those children wanted to meet these people I’ve met and go to the places I’ve gone.

What does all this have to do with the price of goat’s milk? Well, I’m about to tell you, my little rascals.

I had been tellin’ my stories for a little while when a man from a distant land came searchin’ for me and asked to write my stories down. I wasn’t sure why, but I had no objections.

After he was done and put it all into a book, I remember when my eyes ran across the page for the first time. He’d gone and messed everything up. All of my tales were shortened down to one-page rhymes. He removed all the back stories. He claimed that ‘readers didn’t care about such nonsense.’

Well, fiddle faddle, I say! I thought I was gonna box his ears right there!

Before I could get to explain'in my thoughts to him proper-like, my dear friend, Anne, stopped me in my tracks with six little words.

“Why not tell your stories yourself?”

It was like a jigger jagger came down and hit me from a thunder bumper sky. Genius! Why hadn’t I thought of that?

Since these are NOT fairy tales, I’ll NOT begin with ‘Once Upon a Time’.

No, for these tales, I shall extend my term of endearment towards you as ‘my little rascals’ because I really like you already. And to help you along, I’ll even put those rhymes you’re familiar with at the beginn’in of each story so you know what I’m talkin’ about.

So, if you think you’re ready to hear all this, you better hitch up your boots and buckle up your britches because we’re about to go on an adventure!

The town of Westler is known for two things - farmin' and coal minin'.

Matta was raised on a farm until she became a young adult and moved to a cottage in the middle of the woods.

She has never really left her beloved town when it comes to living. Just an occasional trip to see her friends.