With a rustle of the leaves and the soft wind blowing on you, you find the hut in the middle of these enchanted woods, you then knock, in the finest and blackest ink, the words "come in" creepily and slowly form on the palm of your hand, then the ink turns into a quill and a odd blank book, you are now holding this book & quill, you come into the very odd-smelling hut and you cant help but notice that more of these quills and books are around. This was a weird hut you realise. Despite it being solid wood from the outside, when entering the hut, you can walk right through the wall and the roof, because they were GONE.
Horrified, you start backing out, and with a flash of light, the walls and roof come back with, uh oh. NO DOOR. You decide it may be a good idea to stay in here, and try find some reliable thing to cut through this stuff which couldnt be wood, yet to the eye, it was the finest oak. You then notice the quills again, they were standing. Upright. 10 Ink-stained quills rising upwards straight, and then writing something, this freaks the HELL out of you, but for some reason, you are now on the table with the book and living quills, lying down except you are alot.. Smaller? You come to and stand right up, you are only about the height of another quill, yet it passes over you, only one thought.
I. Am. A. Quill.
Would you like to join the Living Quills? (LQ or TLQ, if you must) Well just copy & paste the post below and fill out the questions and boom, you are now on the table!