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On a dusty plain that only crickets

& distant wolves usually sing


Now sits a caravan of misfits


The type that keeps you on the edge

of wonder & unease.


Filled with people that

seem to be other-worldly

& intriguing.


Antique carriage cars with candle lanterns &

faded multicolored tents that glow like cave

mushrooms in the dark foggy night.


One such tent catches your eye. Mossy

green & deep purple fabric that seems to

fade to gold under the moon light as you

approach… A peak inside sits a frosted globe,

swirling with energy almost begging to

answer the question you didn’t know you

wanted answered a moment ago.

Sandalwood is in the air & crystals

shimmer on the shelves.


This is where Wihelmena lives...

this is where her magic is kept.

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