Across the REALM there was a rumor that whomsoever dared to take on the quest to rescue the prince would be richly rewarded. Every hopeful subject – from lowest peasant working the meanest CHORE to the high courtier idly at court – dreamed of those riches. Few, however, had the means or the strength to carry through. The SPIRE of the tower where the prince was being held prisoner, rose above the land, taunting all – “dare you try to scale my heights, storm my ramparts?” it seemed to say.

Georg’ann

Katarina never minded time spent in the waiting room if they were well stocked with magazines. This morning she flipped through the latest issues of STYLE and SHAPE while sitting alone in Doctor Corning’s enjoying a cup of tea in a cozy chair. A bit of quiet before her annual checkup. There was nothing pressing for the day ahead to impinge on mindless reading about the latest fashions and best exercises. When the nurse opened the door to call her in, Katarina was chuckling at an article that outlined how to maintain one’s lower SPINE, likening it to the base of a church SPIRE in an article titled the Sacred Sacrum.

Heather