Once they had finished their tea, the author smiled as our reader let out a contented sigh, leaning back in their arm chair.

Our reader snuggled into their chair, pulling the blanket—which the author had given them—higher up onto their lap.

"That was lovely; thank you, author."

Giving them a smile, the author replied with a simple  "My pleasure."

Staring out the window, our reader smiled, feeling warm and happy. Was it perhaps the tea? Maybe the tasty treats from earlier? No, it was something more than just a happy belly.

Peace, the feeling of sweet serenity wrapping its arms around your very soul. You didn't want to admit it, but falling asleep on the couch and appearing back at the author's abode was quite the breath of fresh air. Our reader didn't want their newfound friend to know they had been wishing—no, longing—to come back.

It just had been one of those hard days where one wished to sleep the rest of their life away. Thinking back on that week, our reader's eyebrows furrowed. The author noticed and frowned ever so slightly; you would have hardly noticed.

"Come now, my dear, why do you look so down? Did the treats go ill to your stomach, and shall I make you a tonic for it?"

A little startled, our reader looked up again, smiled and shook their head.

"I am all right; I do not have a stomachache."

"Then why the lowering brow? Of course, if you do not wish to tell me I shall inquire no further—but, please, don't feel as if you would be bothering me. I am quite used to being as you young ones call it, ' bothered.'"

"That is very kind of you."

The library was silent for a time, then it was broken when the reader asked a question:

"If you would not mind," our reader's voice hesitated.
"Yes; go on, my dear," the author gently coaxed.

" Could you tell me a story?"

The author beamed,sitting back into their chair, eyes twinkling.

"Of course, that's what I do best, don't I? Now, what shall it be about?"

"Oh, I don't know; I listen to anything, really." 

"'Anything,' you say, hmm."

The author sat in thought for only a minute, then smiled once more. "Very well. Have you ever been to Ireland, my dear?"

Our reader chuckled a little. "Ireland? No, I've never been anywhere, really."

"Well, then I shall take you there!"

"Take me there—to Ireland? When?" Our reader raises a confused brow, not knowing what nonsense the author could be spouting.

"Now, my dear, at once!" The author was all smiles, pouring themselves a cup of tea to keep their voice strong.

"Now?! Impossible."

"Nothing is impossible, my dear, unless you believe it to be."

Quickly downing their tea and in quite a dramatic fashion, as if in a scene from a stage play, The author spun into the middle of the room and made a deep bow before looking back up with a smile.

" Step over here please, if you are willing,"

The author offered a hand.

Not knowing what else to do, our reader stood up and walked over, taking the hand in their own.

No sooner had our reader done so than the whole room lit up in bright dreamy colors, swirling, mixing and moving together.
Then everything went dark in an instant.

" Umm... author? "

" Trust  me, my dear friend, you are safe—ah!—and see it's growing lighter now."

And so it was. A warm, pinkish light began to glow around them. Our reader could slowly make out some sort of mound not far away, and soon mountains came into view.

" Oh!"

Gasping, our reader let go of the hand they had been holding and moved forward.

The author grinned and followed slowly behind.

The light our reader had seen slowly rising over a hill was the sun, bright and warm.
It shone brilliantly now, climbing higher and higher into the sky.

And bellow the sun, in a green valley was a small village stirring from its slumber.

" Where-Where is this place?!"

The author laughed aloud.

" Ireland my friend, where else!"

Our reader turned with an amazed yet shocked look.

"We really-how-you-"

"I have told you before my friend,"

The author gazed at the village with the pause.

"What's the fun in knowing all the answers? Now come. There is a story at hand."

—————————-

Within a few minutes of walking, the party of two entered the little village.

The author smiled as our reader's eyes danced about them with excitement and childish wonder.

" This place looks right out of a fairy tale!"

" Well, this is a story."

The village was as indeed like one from some fairy tale. There were baskets of flowers hanging on almost every window and all the houses looked strangely like Dutch cottages. People were out and about, running errands, heading to work, watering the flowers or just taking a stroll.

A group of young girls walked past, laughing merrily and talking of a some sort of upcoming festival.

" There will be lots of tourists no doubt."

The author mused to themselves.

" Tourists?"

Our reader asked, confused.

"Yes, this story is set in modern time, but never fear. This is not going to be a dull story. I have added a twist of sorts."

The author's eyes danced.

Not questioning the author, our reader simply shrugged their shoulders.

"Can they see us?"

" When you read a story do the characters hear or see you? Can they feel your presence?"

The author returned.

" Well, no."

" Then you have your answer. We are like a silent breeze to them, ever so gently do we brush past them and they do not feel, hear nor see us."

"Like ghosts?"

" That is another way to view it, I suppose. But you can always see shadows of a ghost, so not quite."

They continued walking till the author stopped in front of a tall cottage.

It had a off-white creamy sort of color and large windows with flowers in them.

The door was painted a soft grass green and had a bronze knocker, there was a little sign above the door which read.

" Robins B&B."

The author said aloud, a spark lighting up their eyes as the turned and look at our reader.

" This is where our story begins."

—————————————————————————

I hope you have a lovely week my friends.

~The Author~