Work Text:
My name is Tarrant Hightopp. I'll be your author to-day (or to-night, if you happen to be reading this before bed). I'd like to have a conversation, for though I've met many singularly despicable people in my thirty-five years, I am confident you aren't one of them (they are singularly evil; no room for any one else, very sorry about that). You may even get to meet some of these appalling scoundrels, these stains. I believe that is what you would call a figurative trail of bread-crumbs leading to the rest of the story. Or perhaps chocolate. Or pieces of cake. I don't like bread-crumbs very much myself.
In any case, if you don't fancy what I present here, you may very well close this tattered note-book for ever if you so choose-- and you are reading my memorandum, so it would be perfectly understandable to do so.
Still, there is a story here. I've folded monsters and breath and poetry into these pages. Along with one mouse who often forgets her size; and one cat you'll not slight me for loathing; and one hare whose kindness and eccentrics go unmatched; and one knave with just one eye and purpose to his name; and one monarch emblazoned with a heart; and one queen of chess-boards; and one thoroughly wonderful visitor; and one who pens their story; and a lot of other strange cards besides.
Still present? Lovely! I suppose you'll be joining me then on this frenzied trip down the rabbit-hole, if only for a little while.
Are you ready?
Off we go.