A Tale of Giants
Sit and listen, small giants,
for the endtimes have found us,
and I’ve one final story to tell.
The Fourth Cycle
The fourth cycle brought the onset of a sinister kind of famine to Monksville Reservoir, one delivered not by the Great Spirit but by the toothy maw of a false god. The few lakebreathers who somehow managed to survive noticed the slaughter immediately; the wingflappers took notice by spring; summer brought the disappearance of any and all landwalkers gutsy enough to take a refreshing dip in Mother Monksville’s temperate waters; by autumn the giants could no longer deny the shallow catch baskets they carried back to their villages each night.
Something was happening in Monksville, something truly awful, something none of the denizens could hope to understand. Something that had to be stopped.
This has been the eleventh subchapter of the first chapter of The Monksville Chronicles. Here is everything you need to know about it:
I’ve written a few other books, too. Click here to see the list.
The Hillside Commons has a Facebook page. Here’s that.
If you’re there, hypothetical reader, thank you for being there. From this day on, we move forever forward~