The monster looked up and Conor followed its gaze. It was looking at Conor’s bedroom window, the room where his grandma now slept.
“Let me tell you a story of when I went walking,” the monster said.
“Let me tell you of the end of a wicked queen and how I made sure she was never seen again.”
Conor swallowed and looked back at the monster’s face. “Go on,” he said.
THE FIRST TALE
“Long ago,” the monster said, “before this was a town with roads and trains and cars, it was a green place.”
Trees covered every hill and bordered every path. They shaded every stream and protected every house,
for there were houses here even then, made of stone and earth.
This was a kingdom. “What?” Conor said, looking around his back garden. “Here?”
The monster cocked its head at him curiously. “You have not heard of it?”
“Not a kingdom around here, no,” Conor said. “We don’t even have a McDonald’s.”
“Nevertheless,” continued the monster, “it was a kingdom, small but happy,
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