Some of you might be wondering what exactly is taking so long with churning out the next chapter. Others of you are probably concerned that there might be too much profanity and violence in this story to be safely read by young people. And I know for a fact that there are at least six of you that are wondering how you ended up on this website when you specifically screamed at Google to show you pictures of Nigerian table legs. I am unable to help you with that last one, but I can address the other issues.
Firstly, let me just say that this story is, for the most part, complete. Oh, sure, I am still tweaking little issues here and there to refine it as much as possible. If there is one thing people expect from 100% free literature, it is perfection. Very well, I shall do my very best to comply. Nobody is expecting this to be the greatest thing ever set down in the English language (that has already been done, and it is a magnificent work entitled “Ethel the Aardvark goes Quantity Surveying”) but nor does anyone want to wade through a septic field of literary compost. We’re seeking a delicate balance, here. With that in mind, a new chapter will be posted every Monday. Nobody likes Mondays anyway, so this really does nothing to effect our already sour attitude vis-a-vis the day.
Secondly, if you can stomach a fellow being tossed off of a tower, you can cope with the rest of this story. Probably. There is a deliciously gruesome bit there near the end of the story, and I don’t want to give away too much but it is the part where the children are shuffled hurriedly off to bed with the understanding that Old Yeller was just going to take a nice nap and THE MOVIE IS OVER! Profanity is also not scattered throughout. The word “damn” is there in the first chapter, and close to the end the word “crap” shows up for a cameo. I might suggest that if these mildly naughty words disturb you, but the imagery of a soldier being flung to his death down the side of a castle wall is acceptable, then we might have something to work on. Perhaps we can do some sort of therapy with the folks looking at pictures of Nigerian table legs.
With all of this firmly set in mind, I am open to explaining anything in the story that might pop up. If I need to reword things to provide clarity, then let’s get that going so the story is that much better. Save your critiques of my liberal use of commas, however. I love commas. They are the cilantro of written composition. So, find something to wash that down with, and get back to reading.