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The Chamber of Monumental Failures
A Fantasy Prologue
Author’s Note: Hey there! Usually, I write about religion and politics. If you follow me, chances are that’s what you expect when you read one of my articles. Today I decided to take a break from that and write some non-fiction! Just for fun! Maybe this is the first chapter of some crazy fantasy novel… who knows! But if you’re a regular reader of mine, or even if you’re not, I’d love to hear your thought in the comments section! I hope you enjoy something a little different from me!
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley.
And if it weren’t for Finnegan Frey of Fernleigh Fields, there would still be no dragons in the Valley. Suffice to say, poor Finnegan Frey only did what he did because it was exactly what the Valley needed.
The problem was that nobody else could see it that way.
Not Ella Swinesong.
Not even Mother.
And most certainly not Athelberht Flagg, the Chief Fixer-Upper of Fernleigh Fields who sat on his dais in the Chamber of Monumental Failures.
He cast a reproachful gaze towards Finnegan Frey — one that seemed to fall from his eye sockets, tumble through his half-moon spectacles, roll out across his nose, and launch across the chamber floor from the pointy end of…
