The Goblin and a Faerie Tail: Tales from the Forest of the Hooting Owl, #5

By Juliet Boyd

Never eat the berries. This is something Sprout was taught from a very young age, because no one wants to experience faerie wrath.

However, a witch who wasn't brought up in the forest might be tempted, especially in the abundance of the now constant summer in The Forest of the Hooting Owl.

How can a witch who has broken faerie law be kept safe, a witch who shouldn't even be in the forest? A possible solution comes from a totally unexpected place, which involves a good deal of trust. But will it work?

An adventurous tale of hiding, waiting, tests of magic, and some excellent photography skills, awaits those who dare to follow along.

The Goblin and a Faerie Tail*, Book Five in the Tales from the Forest of the Hooting Owl, is a story for children aged 8-12 years old and anyone else who is young of heart. Get your copy today.

*Formerly The Goblin and a Faerie Tale.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Juliet Boyd
• Release date: Apr 12, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386832089

Juliet Boyd

Juliet lives in Somerset in the south-west of England. She used to work in administration, but now writes full-time. Her main writing interests are fantasy, science fiction, weird fiction, horror and flash fiction. Details of her work are available on her website.

Book preview

THe GoBLiN aND a FaeRie TaiL

TaLeS FRoM THe FoReST oF THe HooTiNG oWL

BooK FiVe

Copyright © 2019 Juliet Boyd,

including interior illustrations.

All rights reserved.

Second Edition: 2020

(Originally, The Goblin and a Faerie Tale.)

Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and situations portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Any reference to an actual event, product or location is used in an entirely fictitious manner.

Hello, Sproutlings.

How are things with you?

Recently, I’ve been wondering a lot about magic. For example, what would it be like to perform it? What would it feel like when you set the magic free? Would your body tingle? Would you feel drained? Or would it be more like elation?

Of course, I’m never going to know, because I have no magic powers. Not one. Well, apart from the one that allows me to tell stories. That’s a magical power that no one likes to talk about, because no one really knows how it happens. It’s like a spell is being mixed up in your head and comes out through your fingers as you type, or write (or your mouth, if it’s a story that’s only told that way).

I wonder what kind of magic you’d like to perform. No. Don’t tell me. I can guess. I know what you’re like. If you’d like to discover more about the magic in the forest, don’t forget Long Tooth’s Scribblings at the end of this book.

Anyway, we start off on this adventure with magic and we also end with it. It’s possible it happens all the way through the middle, too. You’ll have to read on to find out. So, don’t delay. Let’s get a little of that spelling out of the way.

For new friends everywhere.

SPeLLiNG iS HaRD

Sprout stood as still as he was able, with his eyes closed. His heart thumped loudly, echoing through his body. He wasn’t sure if the thumping was because he was excited, or because he was scared. If he was being truthful with himself, he was probably both of those things in equal measure, but that wasn’t what he’d told Wizard. He remembered using words like, ‘That’s all right,’ and, ‘I don’t mind’. They were definitely flutter lies. Acting as what Wizard called ‘a guinea pig’ was a hazardous state to put yourself in.

If Sprout had done his thinkings properly, following the branches all the way through his brain archives to the leaves of learning, he would’ve said no, because who wanted to be lifted from the ground with nothing supporting them (when no magic herbs were involved), by a witch who admitted that she still only had her L-plates on? Sprout didn’t have the heart to ask what L-plates were and imagined a series of plates balanced on Wizard’s head and shoulders and hands (possibly even her feet), as she attempted each spell. Normally, that image would’ve made him laugh. In this situation, it did not.

He wished, above everything else, he could open his eyes, but that wasn’t allowed. This was because the first time Wizard had tried to cast a spell upon him, she had made some very weird faces, as if she were straining everything in her body, and he had laughed at that. She didn’t like being laughed at. It made her forget what she was trying to do, which Sprout did agree, was not a good thing. The consequences of forgetting the spell you were doing, when you were in the middle of it, didn’t bear a lot of thinking time, because of the worry it would cause.

The theory was, if he couldn’t see her, he couldn’t laugh. He had suggested just turning around, but she had said giggling about someone with your back turned was really rude and that closing your eyes took all of your attentions.

So, here he was. Standing. Waiting. Having no idea whether he’d lifted even a smidgen, because having your eyes closed for a long time did strange things to your perception of the world around you. It made you imagine you were wobbling from side to side, like a waver bug. It made you feel as if things around you were moving unnaturally, which, he had to admit, sometimes did happen in the forest, whatever you were doing. And it made the waiting last forever. The last one was the worst.

Can I open them now? he said. Please? My eyelids are tired.

That was another thing. Forcing your eyelids closed, when you didn’t want to be asleep, made them