Today is part two of two where we are talking to DK Shepston about her novels. Over these 2 weeks you will have heard about getting in trouble reading, jotting down book scenes as a kid on whatever surface you can find, meditating the ideas for your stories on accident, growing as an author, learning social media, getting out of your comfort zone, to just keep going, get your story out there.

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D.K.Shepston is a writer, traveler, and adventure seeker, wirh an affinity for YA novels. In 2018, she left the stationary life and career behind for a life on the road in a 1993 RV, traveling North America with her bestie and four felines. She has lived in Chicago, Germany, Austin, and numerous states while on the road. She now finds herself enamored of the Pacific Northwest and the Olympic Peninsula. She just might hang there for a spell. Her first series, The Reckoning of Anecor Trilogy is a near-future, dystopian sci-fi trilogy, featuring a female lead, a touch of romance, lots of adventure, and a mystery.

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Welcome to Freya's.

Fairy tales.

We believe fairy tales are both stories we enjoyed as children and something that we can achieve ourselves.

Each week we will talk to authors about their favorite fairy tales when they were kids and their adventure to holding their very own fairy tale in their hands.

At the end of each episode, we will finish off with a fairy tale or short story read as close to the original author's version as possible.

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Today is part two of two where we are talking to DK Shepston about her novels.

After today, you will have heard about getting in trouble reading, jotting down book scenes as a kid on whatever surface you can find, meditating the ideas for your stories on accident, growing as an author, learning social media, getting out of your comfort zone to just keep going, get your story out there.

The breaking the Mystery Deepens as the virus continues its rampage in Montrose, Rebecca and Colossus must find a way to stop an enemy more lethal than the virus.

But new information and unfolding events threaten the group's mission and their very lives.

As pressure mounts to take bold action, rifts form between members.

Rebecca and her friends are forced to make difficult choices and face unexpected challenges that will test their bonds and reveal secrets that will either bring them closer or drive them apart.

How far are the newest Colossus members willing to go to do what's right?

The stakes are so much higher than they could have imagined and all Anacor citizens are in danger if the gang breaks up.

If Colossus breaks apart, humanity in Anacore is doomed.

I do have to ask, as a narrator, are there any plans to make.

Your books into audiobooks?

There are.

It's taken me a long time to get my first two books.

Came easy because I wasn't doing regular work for those and now I can't say my work is regular, but I now have this thing where I am doing content writing for other people and so trying to fit in my own writing when I actually have the creative juices in my head to do it.

Plus COVID made everything.

Everybody sort of paused on so many things for a while with with that and all the uncertainties and stuff like that.

And so it's taken me a while.

So I kind of am at this point where I'm just going to get this third book which I'm almost done with out and then I'm going to regroup and I do want to do audiobooks because I love listening to them.

You can be in the car, which is when I usually listen when I'm driving, or you can be, although I know a lot of people do it when they have house cleaning and stuff.

I'm like, yeah, it's such a great avenue.

And so many people are listening to audiobooks now in their repertoire of how they consume fiction.

I definitely am going to expand to audiobooks for the trilogy when it's done.

Okay, cool.

For sure.

I feel like if there's not audio, I always have to ask.

I'm slightly obligated to so far, I have one in progress, Ya series.

And then I have one finished.

Well finished.

The author is still listening through the Lat, the third book in the trilogy.

But I've done two of those and those are I don't do them often.

I mostly do, like, romance and fantasy, but most of my bookshelves is probably Ya Dystopian.

So, like, I'm just like I love really?

Those.

Yeah.

That's hilarious.

My favorite series my favorite series of, like, all time is Tahara Mafi's Shatter Me series.

Oh, yeah, love that one.

I have a bunch that most people have probably never heard of.

Hunger Games.

I loved Hunger Games.

Then there's the other one that's like that one, and I can't ever remember the name.

Also got made into movies, but not as good.

The movies weren't as good.

The divergent series.

Yeah.

I just have always loved that's.

Like my when I was a kid, we talked about you reading a bunch of books.

My mom would take us to the library, and some reason, at like, probably twelve years old, I was allowed to get Nicholas Sparks books.

I've read, I think, all but one of his books, up to, well, two, because I own his most recent one.

I haven't had time to read it yet, but since I was 1213 years old, I've been reading.

So romance is always my guilty.

No one's going to know that I read this.

Pleasure.

So my bookshelves, it's a lot of Dystopian because people can see that I read that and no one really asks questions about now that I'm narrating stuff, I've added more like romance and fantasy and stuff onto my shelves and just reading in general as I've broadened my horizons as an adult.

Yeah.

Why Dystopian?

I don't know.

It's one of those ones where I think people just in some of the times that we've gone through, it's pretty easy.

I don't know why.

We're always kind of drawn to these sorts of things where people are overcoming hard times.

Right.

Because in Dystopian, it's always like, oh, the biggest challenges in society and stuff like that.

And somehow people can still overcome.

So it's like, at the outset it seems like, oh my gosh, it's so depressing.

And same with adult Dystopian and stuff, but there's always this element of growth and overcoming that I think makes people feel good no matter what situation.

Like, if they're in a hard situation or society is weird.

And then it's like this feeling that you can overcome it.

So I think a lot of people, they might not even recognize sometimes what they're reading as Dystopian because they don't call it Dystopian.

No, that's like, technically what I'm writing would be Dystopian, but that's not an adult genre, right?

Mine like Borders, Fantasy and Sci-fi.

So it'll be somewhere in those.

But yeah, Dystopian is not a thing in grown up.

I mean, you find it because, like Handmaid's Tale, that's Dystopian, and that's definitely grown up.

There's a bunch of other series that I can't think of the names for right now that are definitely Dystopian, but.

They don't necessarily label it as that.

The book is that.

And sometimes you'll see the label applied, and that is like a keyword search term that comes up.

And so I don't know, that might be a kind of missed opportunity for people who write in those genres, but it tends to be like fantasy first or Sci-Fi first or whatever first, and then that's sort of like a sub context.

Whereas in Ya, you get it more labeled as Dystopian first, followed by the Sci-Fi or fantasy or romance or whatever.

So the Dystopian label is sort of like the primary label.

Well, and you know what to expect too, with a Dystopian.

You know, it's going to be like current world set in the future with the creepiest ones or the ones where you're like, oh, my God, I can definitely see this happening.

Those ones will like they're insane.

So my trilogy that I wrote again, I put the first 19.

The second one came out, like, in March of 2020.

And the apparent central thing is a mysterious virus.

Same.

That's my book, too.

I'm like, okay, honestly, I wrote this before COVID okay.

And it's like, near future Dystopian.

So a lot of the stuff, like the sciencey sides of things are really, like, nowadays stuff.

This could happen just outside of our known capabilities.

We're at the edges of these things.

And so it is one of those ones.

One of the people who reviewed it said, this book is just like, a quarter turn to the left from where we're standing right now.

And they were talking about the virus as well as just kind of the setting it was in.

Of course, Dystopian seems to always be set in the United States for some reason.

It's just a weird thing.

You don't see dystopian.

I think there's a reason for that.

So minus set, global minus set.

So in mine, they're trying to cure all viruses, but it's set, and I'm currently changing it because I was setting it, like, 20 or 30 years in the future, and I decided, let's set it way further out.

So they've renamed, like, it's no longer what is it now?

Current era is what we call, like, Ce.

So there's a new era.

And so it's, like, far enough where there's a new era that has now come about.

I think I named it.

I don't remember.

I don't remember what I named it if I did so far.

I originally had it as Titan era, but I also want to write mythology based stuff.

And that was too mythology for a Dystopian type book.

But as with Dystopians, there's stuff wrong with the world.

And we've had to basically think like the 100 where everybody had to move on to a spaceship kind of thing, but not in space.

It's on here.

So it's like every major city has basically had to combine in these buildings together to help live, basically.

But it is worldwide.

Well, that's good because that's sort of a novelty.

So it's very much like fantasy in that people will develop superpowers.

Oh, yeah.

So that's fantasy elements of it.

But then it is Sci-Fi and the technologies that have changed and stuff like that.

If Dystopian was an option, I could do that.

Instead, I'll have to figure out the genres that will, like, ride the line between those two.

Yeah, I love reading fantasy is my biggest adult fantasy is the genre I read the most.

And I certainly learn a lot about writing from epic fantasy.

But I love Sci-fi too.

And then I love the ya sci-fi more than the ya fantasy.

So I kind of flip between depending on whether I'm reading Ya or adult fiction.

But I love both of those, and I love ones that contain elements of Sci-Fi and fantasy together.

I think those are super entertaining.

I am hoping to publish by the end of the year, but I have a lot going on.

So my time like, you time chunks of in December, I'm like, what are my New Year's resolutions going to be?

And I'm like, I am going to after having not looked at my book for six months, I'm going to commit to 10 minutes a day are going to be set aside for working on this.

I'm like, it's a doable number.

It's not a I'm going to miss out on a bunch of sleep number.

Like, 10 minutes is small enough.

Yeah.

Sometimes I go over.

Right now, I'm mostly adding in the like, there's a lot of dialogue.

Not inner dialogue, just talking without like there'll be huge chunks of, like, people talking back and forth with no inner dialogue whatsoever.

No inner thoughts.

What they're thinking about, what's being said.

No, just the words, the context.

So I'm adding all that.

I went back to the beginning, and I'm adding all that in so that my editing process will hopefully be smaller.

Yeah, but we'll see.

Yeah.

There are so many different strategies for how people write, and a lot of authors will just be like, get the first draft done and then go back and make all your revisions.

But I'm kind of more inclined, especially since sometimes there can be gaps of times if I get really busy.

So I'm not in the story as much, so I'll read it to get back into my character's heads.

And this trilogy is very character driven, but I get back into it because I'm a discovery writer or a panther or however you want to talk about.

I don't just sit there.

And I will try to write down, jot down things of what's going to happen, and they may or may not like my characters.

I'll be like, oh, so that's what they're doing now.

Okay, well, that's not at all what I expected, but okay.

I do not plan in my head, I know what the major plot points are going to be, but there is no plan in place right for me.

I don't know.

I've tried the whole outlining thing and it gets tossed out the window because as I'm writing and my characters start revealing themselves more, it's forced if I try and conform too much to some sort of plot.

My first book, it didn't end on a total cliffhanger, but you definitely knew at the end of it there was going to be a book too.

Yeah.

And the second book was an absolute cliffhanger because what ends up happening and all of this is not at all what people expect from a virus.

And I really can't say a whole lot about it because then it sort of gives away, like, the surprises that come about.

But the end of the second book was a total cliffhanger, and what happened through all that was not at all planned.

And so if I had conformed to what I was thinking, it would have been a lot more I think it would have been a lot less compelling than what ended up happening just naturally from the story.

And the way that the second book ended, I was just like, oh, wow, okay, so that's where we're going now.

I just think it ended up turning out a lot better than the original ending I had thought of.

Yeah.

So if you were giving a new author any piece of advice, what would be the biggest thing that you think would help?

And everybody gives a different answer to this question, but what's the biggest thing that has helped you as you've been writing these books?

I think just to keep going.

It's so easy.

We all get stuck at certain times.

We all run into those places that our creative brains are just like, not cooperating.

And it's so easy to give up on the idea that you're a writer or that you've got something to say or you've got a story in there.

When you come up against these brick walls, people have different approaches to just press on and just deal with whatever's on the page and it'll start.

You'll break through versus take a break and walk away for a while.

And I'm sort of of the notion that most of the time I'll at least take a short break.

I might just sit here and stare out the window, literally stare out the window and just sort of feel where my characters are without thinking about what could happen next and let it just sort of permeate.

And other times I might just have to put it down and go for a hike and just say, like, okay, I'm not going to get down on myself for this.

I know that if I do this and step away from it, it's going to start unlocking things.

So I think that people have to find their own way when they get to those spots.

But the biggest thing is to not give up because you get to those spots, because every author does, whether they're new or they've been at it forever.

So I would always just say, keep going, push through, and however that works best for you because we're all different, but just keep going.

Yeah, that's some I know, like listening to music will help or watching shows will bring ideas to mind or you're the second one, I think that said go for a walk or a hike or something.

Which is why I set mine as a time goal and not a word count goal to take some of that pressure off where I'm not going to beat myself.

10 minutes is 10 minutes.

Like if I get 100 words in or 600 words in, it's still 10 minutes.

And right now, because I'm adding it, I'm editing what I've already written.

So I think the last couple of days I've gotten like 150 new words in there.

But I've also swapped out, like, I realized I wrote part of the book in past tense for whatever reason.

So I'm having to change words to present tense.

So it's not like one sentence will be in the present and one will be in the past.

And I'm like, it can't be like this.

Yeah, I think that's a hard thing when you're writing in present tense, and it's such a cool tense to write in because you're present, you're right there.

But I think it's challenging because people tend to slip into a past tense voice really easily.

Apparently.

And I think I was a couple of chapters into editing before I realized I was doing this.

So I'm going to have to go back to the beginning again.

But I was like, I was just there.

I'm not going to go back right now.

I can catch that later.

But keep in mind going forward as I'm reading through and editing that, make sure you've got it all in the right tents.

She was doing this or she did do that, and it's like, no, it's happening right now.

She needed to take a breath.

She needs to take a breath.

I started a new series.

At first, it was going to be a novella and it ended up that as I got partway into it I'm like, no, this is not a novella, this is a series, but it's in present tense.

So I put it away because it's not a novella.

That will come later.

But I ran into the same thing.

I was like writing it.

I'm like, wait a minute, I'm writing in past tense now.

It's supposed to be present tense.

So I had to do the same thing.

I go back and change the wording as I was realizing that I was not staying in present tense.

Well, there are some like find and replace you do not want to use for stuff like that because sometimes it is appropriate.

Like if they're telling the character is telling something that did happen in the past, you don't want to accidentally screw that part up.

The internal dialogue.

I'm like going back and making sure that it's in present tense to make sure that it's making sense.

And I've done one of the authors that I narrate for, I edit her books for her and so we've had a couple of instances where I had to update like, hey, all of a sudden you switched into past tense for some reason.

I just changed this part to comply with it's currently happening.

Yeah, it's good to have another set of eyes for catching.

Well, it's kind of like I'm beta reading, except I'm doing the actual, like so we use a Google, she throws it into a Google Doc, and then I edit and comment.

Like, this is what I changed.

So that I can get to the end of actually narrating it faster so she can just approve things and then change things back if she didn't like what I changed.

Yeah, so that's something that I don't.

Do for everybody because it's time consuming, but I've had a few her books are all really short.

They're all like under three hour audiobooks.

Oh, wow.

So they're pretty short ones.

So it's like this isn't that big.

Now if it was like a twelve hour book, I'd be like, no, you're going to have to pay someone else to do this because I can't right, I got to do my own book.

Yeah.

And that would be super time consuming.

I'll do occasional like, oh, the sentence is worded really weird and fix it on the which I always ask permission before I start doing this, but fix it on the fly kind of stuff.

But other than that, yeah, no, I've had a couple that I'm like, I need a recording ready manuscript and they send me something and I'm like, this.

Is not recording ready.

I'm like, I could fix it, but you're going to have to pay me for double time because that's how long it's going to take me to do this.

Oh my gosh.

You got to think when you read aloud, like when you read aloud to the kids, you don't read every word perfectly.

You have to go back and fix it.

The same with Narrating.

For me, it takes me about an hour and a half to record an hour of audio, so it's about okay.

That's not too one and a half to one rate.

So for me, it's not.

I mean, I have days that are worse than other days, but for the most part, that's like what I've averaged.

If it's a fantasy novel with 300 made up words in it, it takes me probably two to two and a half hours to get that to where the words flow.

Well, right.

But yeah, no, if it has not seen any kind of editors, it's going to take me three to four times as long to do it.

I'm like, no.

Yeah.

In the early days, I did a lot of that.

In the now days, I'm like, I don't have time to do that.

Yeah.

Thank you so much for talking to me.

Yes.

Schedule yourself whatever you need to get done.

This is your reminder.

Don't forget to add that to your to do list.

Schedule yourself.

Right.

All right.

Well, thank you, Freya.

Thank you.

Have a great Saturday.

Yeah, you too.

Enjoy your reading.

I'm jealous.

Bye.

All right.

Bye.

As DK got older, she liked The Giving Tree.

The Giving Tree is an American children's picture book written and illustrated by Shell Silverstein.

First published in 1964 by Harper and Rowe, it has become one of Silverstein's best known titles, and it has been translated into numerous languages.

This book has been described as one of the most divisive books in children's literature.

The controversy stems from whether the relationship between the main characters, a boy and the tree, should be interpreted as positive the tree gives the boy selfless love, or negative, the boy and the tree have an abusive relationship.

Today we'll be reading The FIR Tree by Hans Christian Anderson.

Don't forget we're reading Lemort de Arthur.

The Story of King Arthur and of his noble knights of the Round Table on our Patreon.

You can find the link in the show notes.

The FIR Tree out in the woods stood a nice little fur tree.

A place he had was a very good one.

The sun shone on him as to fresh air.

There was enough of that.

And round him grew many large sized comrades, pines as well as FIRs.

But the little fur wanted so very much to be a grown up tree.

He did not think of the warm sun and of the fresh air.

He did not care for the little cottage children that ran about and prattled when they were in the woods looking for wild strawberries.

The children often came with a whole pitcher full of berries or a long row of them threaded on a straw, and sat down near the young tree and said, oh, how pretty he is.

What a nice little fur.

But this is what the tree could not bear to hear.

At the end of a year he had shot up a good deal, and after another year he was another long bit taller.

For with FIR trees one can always tell by the shoots how many years old they are.

Oh, were I but such a high tree as the others are, sighed he, then I should be able to spread out my branches and with the tops to look into the wide world.

Then would the birds build nests among my branches.

And when there was a breeze, I could bend with as much stateliness as the others.

Neither the sunbeams, nor the birds, nor the red clouds which morning and evening sailed above him, gave the little tree any pleasure.

In winter, when the snow lay glittering on the ground, a hare would often come leaping along and jump right over the little tree.

Oh, that made him so angry.

But two winters were passed, and in the third the tree was so large that the hare was obliged to go round it, to grow and grow, to get older and be tall, thought the tree, that, after all, is the most delightful thing in the world.

In autumn the woodcutters always came and felled, some of the largest trees.

This happened every year.

And the young FIR tree that had now grown to a very comely size trembled at the sight, for the magnificent great trees fell to the earth with noise and cracking.

The branches were lopped off, and the trees looked long and bare.

They were hardly to be recognized.

And then they were laid in carts and the horses dragged them out of the wood.

Where did they go to?

What became of them?

In spring, when the swallows and the storks came, the tree asked them don't you know where they have been taken?

Have you not met them anywhere?

The swallows did not know anything about it, but the stork looked musing, nodded his head and said, yes, I think I know.

I met many ships as I was flying hither from Egypt.

On the ships were magnificent masts and I venture to assert that it was they that smelt so.

A fur I may congratulate you, for they lifted themselves on high most majestically.

Oh, I but old enough to fly across the sea.

But how does the sea look in reality?

What is it like?

That would take a long time to explain, said the stork, and with these words off he went.

Rejoice in thy growth, said the sunbeams.

Rejoice in thy vigorous growth and in the fresh life that moveth within thee.

And the wind kissed the tree, and the dew wept tears over him.

But the fur understood it not.

When Christmas came, quite young trees were cut down.

Trees which often were not even as large or of the same age as this FIR tree, who could never rest, but always wanted to be off these young trees.

And they were always the finest looking, retained their branches.

They were laid on carts, and the horses drew them out of the wood.

Where are they going to?

Asked the fur.

They are not taller than I.

There was one indeed that was considerably shorter.

And why do they retain all their branches?

Whither are they taken?

We know, we know, chirped the sparrows.

We have peeped in at the windows in the town below.

We know whither they are taken.

The greatest splendor and the greatest magnificence one can imagine await them.

We peeped through the windows and saw them planted in the middle of the warm room and ornamented with the most splendid things, with gilded apples and gingerbread, with toys and many hundred lights.

And then?

Asked the fur tree, trembling in every bow, and then what happens then?

We did not see anything more.

It was incomparably beautiful.

I would fain know if I am destined for so glorious a career.

Cried the tree.

Rejoicing that is still better than to cross the sea.

What a longing do I suffer, were Christmas.

But come, I am now tall, and my branches spread like the others that were carried off last year.

Oh, were I but already on the cart?

Were I in the warm room with all the splendor and magnificence?

Yes, then something better, something still grander will surely follow, or wherefore they should thus ornament me, something better, something still grander must follow.

But what?

Oh, how I long, how I suffer.

I do not know myself.

What is the matter with me?

Rejoice in our presence, said the air and the sunlight, rejoice in thy own fresh youth.

But the tree did not rejoice at all.

He grew and grew, and was green both winter and summer.

People that saw him said what a fine tree.

And towards Christmas he was one of the first that was cut down.

The axe stuck deep into the very pith.

The tree fell to the earth with a sigh he felt a pang.

It was like a swoon.

He could not think of happiness, for he was sorrowful at being separated from his home, from the place where he had sprung up.

He well knew that he should never see his dear old comrades, the little bushes and flowers around him anymore, perhaps not even the birds.

The departure was not at all agreeable.

The tree only came to himself when he was unloaded in a courtyard with the other trees, and heard a man say that one is splendid, we don't want the others.

Then two servants came in rich livery and carried the FIR tree into a large and splendid drawing room.

Portraits were hanging on the walls, and near the white porcelain stove stood two large Chinese vases with lions on the covers.

There too were large easy chairs, silken sofas, large tables full of picture books, and full of toys worth hundreds and hundreds of crowns.

At least the children said so, and the.

Fur tree was stuck upright in a cask that was filled with sand, but no one could see that it was a cask, for green cloth was hung all round it, and it stood on a large gaily colored carpet.

Oh, how the tree quivered.

What was to happen?

The servants, as well as the young ladies, decorated it.

On one branch there hung little nets cut out of colored paper, and each net was filled with sugar plums.

And among the other boughs, gilded apples and walnuts were suspended, looking as though they had grown there, and little blue and white tapers were placed among the leaves.

Dolls that looked for all the worldlike men the tree had never beheld such before were seen among the foliage, and at the very top a large star of gold tinsel was fixed.

It was really splendid beyond description, splendid this evening, they all said, how it will shine this evening.

Oh, thought the tree, if the evening were but come, if the tapers were but lighted.

And then I wonder what will happen?

Perhaps the other trees from the forest will come to look at me.

Perhaps the sparrows will beat against the window panes.

I wonder if I shall take root here, and winter and summer stand covered with ornaments.

He knew very much about the matter, but he was so impatient that for sheer longing he got a pain in his back.

And this with trees is the same thing as a headache with us.

The candles were now lighted.

What brightness.

What splendor.

The tree trembled so in every bow that one of the tapers set fire to the foliage.

It blazed up famously.

Help.

Help.

Cried the young ladies, and they quickly put out the fire.

Now the tree did not even dare tremble.

What a state he was in.

He was so uneasy, lest he should lose something of his splendor, that he was quite bewildered amidst the glare and brightness, when suddenly both folding doors opened and a troop of children rushed in as if they would upset the tree.

The older persons followed quietly.

The little ones stood quite still, but it was only for a moment.

Then they shouted that the whole place re echoed with their rejoicing.

They danced round the tree, and one present after the other was pulled off.

What are they about?

Thought the tree.

What is to happen now?

And the lights burned down to the very branches, and as they burned down, they were put out one after the other, and the children had permission to plunder the tree, so they fell upon it with such violence that all its branches cracked.

If it had not been fixed firmly to the ground, it would certainly have tumbled down.

The children danced about with their beautiful playthings.

No one looked at the tree except the old nurse who peeped between the branches.

But it was only to see if there was a fig or an apple left that had been forgotten.

A story.

A story.

Cried the children, drawing a little fat man towards the tree.

He seated himself under it and said now we are in the shade, and the tree can listen, too.

But I shall tell only one story.

Now, which will you have that about Ividy Avidy or about Humpy Dumpy, who tumbled downstairs and yet, after all, came to the throne and married the princess?

Ividy Avidy.

Cried some.

Humpy Dumpy.

Cried the others.

There was such a bawling and screaming, the FIR tree alone was silent.

And he thought to himself, am I not to bawl with the rest?

Am I to do nothing whatever?

For he was one of the company and had done what he had to do.

And the man told about Humpy Dumpy that tumbled down, who, notwithstanding, came to the throne and at last married the princess.

And the children clapped their hands and cried oh, go on, do go on.

They wanted to hear about Ividy Avidy, too, but the little man only told them about Humpy Dumpy.

The FIR tree stood quite still and absorbed in thought.

The birds in the wood had never related the likes of this.

Humpy Dumpy fell downstairs, and yet he married the princess.

Yes, yes, that's the way of the world, thought the FIR tree, and believed it all because the man who told the story was so good looking.

Well, well, who knows?

Perhaps I may fall downstairs too, and get a princess's wife.

And he looked forward with joy to the morrow, when he hoped to be decked out again with lights, playthings fruits and tinsel.

I won't tremble tomorrow, thought the FIR tree, I will enjoy to the fool all my splendor.

Tomorrow I shall hear again the story of Humpy Dumpy, and perhaps that of Ividy Avidy, too.

And the whole night the tree stood still and in deep thought.

In the morning the servant and the housemaid came in.

Now then, the splendor will begin again, thought the FIR.

But they dragged him out of the room and up the stairs, into the loft.

And here, in a dark corner where no daylight could enter, they left him.

What's the meaning of this?

Thought the tree.

What am I to do here?

What shall I hear now, I wonder?

And he leaned against the wall, lost in reverie.

Time enough had he too, for his reflections.

For days and nights passed on, and nobody came up.

And when at last somebody did come, it was only to put some great trunks in a corner out of the way.

There stood the tree, quite hidden.

It seemed as if he had been entirely forgotten.

Tis now winter out of doors, thought the tree.

The earth is hard and covered with snow.

Men cannot plant me now, and therefore I have been put up here under shelter till the springtime comes.

How thoughtful that is.

How kind man is.

After all, if it only were not so dark here, and so terribly lonely.

Not even a hare.

And out in the woods it was so pleasant when the snow was on the ground and the hair leapt by.

Yes, even when he jumped over me.

But I did not like it.

Then it is really terribly lonely here.

Squeak, squeak.

Said a little mouse, at the same moment peeping out of his hole.

And then another little one came.

They snuffed about the FIR tree and rustled among the branches.

It is dreadfully cold, said the mouse, but for that it would be delightful here, old fur, wouldn't it?

I am by no means old, said the FIR tree.

There's many a one considerably older than I am.

Where do you come from?

Asked the mice.

And what can you do?

They were so extremely curious.

Tell us about the most beautiful spot on the earth.

Have you never been there?

Were you never in the larder where cheeses lie on the shelves and hams hang from above?

Where one dances about on tallow candles?

That place where one enters lean and comes out again, fat and portly?

I know no such place, said the tree, but I know the wood where the sun shines and where the little birds sing.

And then he told all about his youth, and the little mice had never heard the like before, and they listened.

And said, well, to be sure how much you have seen, how happy you.

Must have been, I said the FIR tree, thinking over what he had himself related.

Yes, in reality those were happy times.

And then he told about Christmas Eve, when he was decked out with cakes and candles.

Oh, said the little mice.

How fortunate you have been, old fur tree.

I am by no means old, said he.

I came from the wood this winter.

I am in my prime and am only rather short for my age.

What delightful stories you know, said the mice.

And the next night they came with four other little mice who were to hear what the tree recounted.

And the more he related, the more he remembered himself.

And it appeared as if those times had really been happy times.

But they may still come.

They may still come.

Humpy Dumpy fell downstairs, and yet he got a princess.

And he thought at the moment of a nice little birch tree growing out in the woods to the fur.

That would be a real charming princess.

Who is Humpy Dumpy?

Asked the mice.

So then the fur tree told the whole fairy tale, for he could remember every single word of it.

And the little mice jumped for joy up to the very top of the tree.

Next night two more mice came, and on Sunday two rats even.

But they said the stories were not interesting, which vexed the little mice, and they too now began to think them not so very amusing either.

Do you know only one story?

Asked the rats.

Only that one, answered the tree.

I heard it on my happiest evening, but I did not then know how happy I was.

It is a very stupid story.

Don't you know one about bacon and tallow candles?

Can't you tell any larger stories?

No, said the tree.

Then goodbye, said the rats, and they went home at last.

The little mice stayed away also, and the tree sighed.

After all, it was very pleasant when the little sleek mice sat round me and listened to what I told them.

Now that too is over, but I will take good care to enjoy myself when I'm brought out again.

But when was that to be?

Why, one morning there came a quantity of people and set to work in the loft.

The trunks were moved, the tree was pulled out and thrown rather hard, it is true, down on the floor.

But a man drew him towards the stairs where the daylight shone.

Now a merry life will begin again, thought the tree.

He felt the fresh air, the first sunbeam, and now he was out in the courtyard all past so quickly.

There was so much going on round him, the tree quite forgot to look to himself.

The court adjoined a garden, and all was in flower.

The roses hung so fresh and odorous over the balustrade.

The lindens were in blossom.

The swallows flew by and said queer VIT, my husband is come.

But it was not the FIR tree that they meant.

Now then, I shall really enjoy life, said he exultingly, and spread out his branches but, alas, they were all withered and yellow.

It was in a corner that he lay among weeds and nettles.

The golden star of Tinsel was still on the top of the tree, and glittered in the sunshine.

In the courtyard some of the merry children were playing, who had danced at Christmas round to the FIR tree, and were so glad at the sight of him.

One of the youngest ran and tore off the golden star.

Only look what is still on the ugly old Christmas tree, said he, trampling on the branches, so that they all cracked beneath his feet.

And the tree beheld all the beauty of the flowers and the freshness in the garden.

He beheld himself, and wished he had remained in his dark corner in the loft.

He thought of his first youth in the wood of the merry Christmas Eve, and of the little mice who had listened with so much pleasure to the story of Humpy Dumpy.

Tis over, tis past, said the poor tree.

Had I but rejoiced when I had reason to do so.

But now tis past.

Tis past.

And the gardener's boy chopped the tree into small pieces.

There was a whole heap lying there.

The wood flamed up splendidly under the large brewing copper, and it sighed so deeply each sigh was like a shot.

The boys played about in the court and the youngest wore the gold star on his breast, which the tree had had on the happiest evening of his life.

However, that was over.

Now the tree gone.

The story at an end.

All, all was over.

Every tale must end at last.

Thank you for joining Freya's fairy tales.