Enchanted woods

by Bill Tiepelman

Neon Hatchling of the Deepwoods

The Deepwoods wasn’t the kind of place you wandered into by accident. Thick fog clung to ancient trees, the air hummed with the whispers of unseen creatures, and anyone foolish enough to enter often stumbled back out with missing socks or memories—or both. Yet, here stood Gary, socks firmly intact but entirely unsure how he got there. “Right,” Gary muttered, adjusting his satchel. He wasn’t an adventurer, despite the suspiciously adventurous trench coat he wore. He was an accountant. A mediocre one at that. Yet for reasons he couldn’t explain, Gary had woken up that morning with a very specific goal in mind: find the Neon Hatchling. He didn’t know what a Neon Hatchling was, why he needed one, or why his coffee had tasted like regret earlier that day, but the urge was undeniable. So here he was, trudging through mossy undergrowth, fending off the occasional glowing moth the size of a dinner plate, and questioning his life choices. The First Clue Gary’s first breakthrough came when he tripped over a gnome. “Watch it!” the gnome barked, rubbing its pointy hat, which now bore a dent in the shape of Gary’s shoe. The gnome was no taller than a fire hydrant, but its scowl could curdle milk. “Sorry!” Gary stammered. “I didn’t see you there. Uh... any chance you’ve seen a Neon Hatchling?” The gnome squinted at him. “What’s it worth to ya?” Gary rifled through his satchel. “I’ve got... a slightly melted granola bar?” The gnome snatched it greedily. “Fine. Follow the glowing ferns until you hear the sound of giggling. If you survive that, you might find your precious Hatchling.” “Giggling?” Gary asked, but the gnome was already halfway up a tree, cackling like a maniac. The Giggling Problem The glowing ferns were easy enough to find—they looked like someone had spilled neon paint across the forest floor. The giggling, however, was less charming. It wasn’t the warm, bubbly kind of giggling you’d hear at a comedy club. No, this was the “I know your browser history” kind of giggling, and it was coming from everywhere at once. “This is fine,” Gary said to no one in particular, clutching his satchel like a lifeline. He inched forward, trying to ignore the giggles, which now sounded suspiciously like they were mocking his haircut. “You’re just hearing things. That’s all. Deepwoods acoustics. Totally normal.” Then a voice, sharp and sweet, cut through the giggles. “Oh, relax. You’re not going to die... probably.” Gary froze. “Who’s there?” From the shadows stepped a woman dressed in iridescent robes that shimmered like oil on water. Her eyes gleamed with mischief, and she carried a staff topped with what appeared to be a glowing marshmallow. “Name’s Zyla. You’re here for the Neon Hatchling, aren’t you?” Gary nodded, mostly because words had failed him. He wasn’t sure if it was her aura of power or the fact that she smelled faintly of freshly baked cookies. Either way, he wasn’t about to argue. Meeting the Hatchling Zyla led him deeper into the forest, past bioluminescent ponds and a tree that tried to sell Gary a timeshare. Finally, they reached a clearing bathed in soft, glowing light. At its center sat the Neon Hatchling. It was... adorable. About the size of a small dog, the dragonet’s scales shimmered with every color of the rainbow, its wings glowed faintly, and its wide eyes sparkled with curiosity. It let out a tiny chirp, which Gary’s brain immediately translated as, “Hi! Will you be my best friend forever?” Gary’s heart melted. “This is it? This is the Neon Hatchling?” Zyla smirked. “What were you expecting, a fire-breathing monster?” “Honestly? Yes.” Gary crouched down to get a better look at the creature. The Hatchling tilted its head, then pounced on his satchel, rummaging through it with surprising dexterity. “Hey!” Gary protested as the Hatchling triumphantly pulled out a bag of cheese puffs. “That’s my lunch!” The dragonet ignored him, tearing into the bag with gusto. Zyla laughed. “Congratulations. You’ve been chosen by the Neon Hatchling.” “Chosen for what?” Gary asked warily, watching as the dragonet began juggling cheese puffs with its tail. Zyla’s expression turned serious. “The Hatchling is a creature of immense power. It will bring you great fortune... or great chaos. Possibly both. It depends on how much caffeine you’ve had.” The Catch Before Gary could process this, a deafening roar shook the clearing. From the shadows emerged a massive dragon, its scales dark as midnight and its eyes glowing like twin suns. “Ah,” Zyla said, taking a step back. “I forgot to mention the mother.” “What do you mean, the mother?!” Gary yelped as the larger dragon fixed its gaze on him. The Neon Hatchling chirped innocently, clutching its stolen cheese puffs. The mother dragon roared again, and Gary did the only sensible thing: he ran. The End...? Somehow, against all odds, Gary survived. He wasn’t sure how he managed it—there had been a lot of screaming, some questionable tree climbing, and a brief stint where he pretended to be a rock. But when he finally stumbled out of the Deepwoods, the Neon Hatchling was perched on his shoulder, snacking on the last of his cheese puffs. “This is fine,” Gary muttered, though he wasn’t entirely convinced. As he trudged back toward civilization, the Hatchling chirped happily, its tail flicking in time with his steps. Gary sighed. He still didn’t know why he’d been compelled to find the Hatchling, but one thing was clear: life was about to get a lot more interesting.     Bring the Magic Home! The adventure doesn’t have to end here. Add a touch of Deepwoods whimsy to your space with products featuring the Neon Hatchling: Tapestry: Neon Hatchling of the Deepwoods Canvas Print: Neon Hatchling of the Deepwoods Puzzle: Neon Hatchling of the Deepwoods Fleece Blanket: Neon Hatchling of the Deepwoods Bring this magical moment to life and keep the charm of the Deepwoods alive in your home!

by Bill Tiepelman

Golden Scales and Giggling Tales

The fire crackled in the hearth, its light casting flickering shadows across the cavernous library. Deep within the ancient stone walls of the Elarion Keep, amidst shelves groaning under the weight of countless tomes, sat Lena, a girl of ten summers with eyes too wise for her years. Her golden curls seemed to catch and hold the firelight, framing her face as she stared intently at the tiny creature nestled in her lap. The dragonlet, no larger than a housecat, shimmered with a brilliance that rivaled the finest gold coins in her father’s treasury. Its scales reflected the warm hues of the flames, and its delicate wings, translucent as gossamer, trembled faintly as it breathed. The creature chirped softly, its voice a high, melodic trill that sent shivers of delight through Lena. She stroked the dragon’s back gently, marveling at the warm, smooth texture of its scales. The Beginning of Magic Two weeks earlier, Lena had discovered the egg. Hidden in the hollow of an ancient oak deep in the Forbidden Woods, it had pulsed with an otherworldly light. Despite the tales of dangers lurking in the forest, Lena had been unable to resist its call. The moment her fingers brushed its surface, she felt a connection she couldn’t explain. She had wrapped it in her cloak and carried it home, knowing instinctively that her life was about to change forever. When the egg hatched under the glow of a full moon, Lena had gasped in wonder as the tiny dragon emerged, stretching its damp wings. It had looked at her with eyes of molten gold, and in that moment, an unbreakable bond had been formed. The dragonlet, which she named Auriel, seemed to understand her every thought, and she found she could understand its strange, melodic chirps. A World in Flux Lena’s world had been one of structure and expectation. As the daughter of Lord Vareth, she was destined for a life of political alliances and strategic marriages. Yet with Auriel in her life, the confines of her predetermined path began to crumble. The dragonlet was more than a companion; it was a spark of rebellion, a symbol of a world beyond duty and decorum. But magic, as her mother often reminded her, was a dangerous thing. It drew the curious, the covetous, and the cruel. Already, Lena had noticed changes in the keep. Servants whispered in corners, their eyes darting to her when they thought she wasn’t looking. Her father’s advisors had grown more vigilant, their gazes lingering on her when she passed. She knew it was only a matter of time before someone tried to take Auriel from her. The Storm Breaks The night the soldiers came, Lena was ready. She had hidden Auriel in a satchel lined with soft wool and slung it over her shoulder. The dragonlet’s faint chirps were muffled, but she could feel its fear through their bond. She slipped through the shadows of the keep, her heart pounding as she evaded the guards who scoured the halls. The betrayal had been swift and inevitable; her father, desperate to maintain his fragile alliances, had agreed to hand her over to the Order of Sanctis, a faction that sought to control all magical creatures. As she fled into the woods, the sounds of pursuit echoed behind her. Auriel, sensing her distress, began to hum, a low, resonant melody that seemed to vibrate in her chest. The trees around her shimmered faintly, their leaves catching an unearthly glow. A memory surfaced, one of her nursemaid’s tales about the ancient bond between dragons and the natural world. Perhaps, Lena thought, Auriel’s magic could save them. A Fierce Awakening Stopping in a moonlit clearing, Lena placed the satchel gently on the ground and opened it. Auriel crawled out, its wings stretching wide as it chirped urgently. The dragonlet’s scales began to glow, brighter and brighter, until the clearing was bathed in golden light. Lena felt a surge of power, an overwhelming sense of unity with the world around her. The pursuing soldiers burst into the clearing, but stopped short, their eyes widening in fear and awe. Auriel rose into the air, its wings beating steadily. A deep, resonant roar filled the clearing, and the soldiers fell to their knees, shielding their eyes from the dragon’s radiance. Lena stood tall, her fear melting away as she realized the truth: Auriel wasn’t just a companion; it was her protector, her partner, and her destiny. Together, they were more powerful than she had ever imagined. A New Beginning When the light faded, the soldiers were gone, retreating into the darkness. Lena gathered Auriel in her arms, her heart swelling with gratitude and determination. The path ahead was uncertain, but one thing was clear: she would never return to the life she had left behind. With Auriel by her side, she would carve a new future, one built not on duty and expectation, but on courage and freedom. As she stepped into the shadows of the Forbidden Woods, the dragonlet chirped softly, its golden eyes gleaming with trust. Lena smiled, her golden curls catching the moonlight, and together they disappeared into the night, their story just beginning.     Explore More: This magical artwork, titled "Golden Scales and Giggling Tales," is now part of our Image Archive. Prints, downloads, and licensing options are available for those captivated by the enchanting bond between child and dragon. Let this piece add a touch of wonder to your collection!

by Bill Tiepelman

The Turtle Shaman of Ancient Trails

The forest stretched endlessly, an emerald labyrinth of towering trees and whispering foliage. Deep within its heart, on paths unseen by ordinary eyes, walked the Mossback Wanderer, a being of legend known only as the Turtle Shaman. Clad in a cloak of living moss and crowned with sprouting fungi, the Shaman was a guardian of ancient wisdom, a keeper of secrets as old as the forest itself. Few had encountered the Shaman and fewer still understood its purpose. Travelers who lost their way spoke of a creature with a shell that carried a garden upon its back and eyes that glimmered like polished jade. They described the gentle clink of crystal orbs swaying from a staff carved of twisted wood, a sound that lingered in the air long after the figure had vanished into the underbrush. To some, the Shaman was a savior, guiding the lost to safety. To others, it was a harbinger, appearing only when calamity was near. To the Shaman itself, these stories mattered little. Its purpose lay not in how it was perceived but in the silent work of tending to the forest’s balance—a task that had persisted for centuries. The Meeting Elira was a scholar, her life spent buried in ancient tomes and dusty maps. When she heard whispers of the Turtle Shaman, her curiosity burned brighter than caution. With a satchel of supplies and a notebook crammed with fragmented legends, she ventured into the forest, determined to uncover the truth. Days turned into weeks. The forest seemed to stretch on forever, its paths looping in ways that defied reason. Exhausted and on the verge of giving up, Elira stumbled into a clearing bathed in golden light. There, seated upon a mossy stone, was the Shaman. Elira froze, her breath caught in her throat. The creature was more magnificent than she had imagined. Its shell was a living ecosystem, mushrooms of all sizes blooming alongside ferns and wildflowers. Its cloak shimmered with dewdrops, and its staff, worn smooth by centuries of use, seemed to hum faintly in her presence. “You seek knowledge,” the Shaman said, its voice deep and resonant, like the creaking of ancient wood. “But knowledge is a burden as much as a gift. What will you give in return?” Elira hesitated. “Anything,” she replied, her voice trembling. “I seek to understand the stories, the magic, the truth of this place.” The Pact The Shaman studied her with unblinking eyes, its gaze heavy with the weight of countless years. Slowly, it extended a hand. In its palm lay a single glowing seed, pulsing faintly with a golden light. “Plant this,” it said. “But know that the knowledge you seek will come at a price. For every truth uncovered, something must be forgotten. Such is the balance of the forest.” Elira took the seed, her fingers brushing the Shaman’s rough, moss-covered skin. As soon as she touched it, a wave of warmth flooded her, and images flickered in her mind—ancient trees sprouting from the earth, rivers carving their way through stone, stars wheeling across a timeless sky. She nodded, unable to speak, and the Shaman rose, its form towering yet gentle. “Follow the trail,” it said, motioning with its staff. “The seed will guide you.” The Transformation Elira followed the path as instructed, her steps guided by an instinct she didn’t fully understand. She planted the seed in a secluded grove, its soil rich and dark. The moment the seed touched the earth, roots burst forth, intertwining with the ground and spiraling upward into a sapling that glowed faintly in the twilight. Over the following days, Elira remained in the grove, her notebook forgotten as she watched the tree grow. It whispered to her in the quiet hours, its voice a blend of wind and rustling leaves. From it, she learned the history of the forest—the wars that had scarred it, the harmony that had healed it, and the delicate balance the Shaman had fought to maintain. But as the tree grew taller, Elira began to notice something strange. Memories she had once cherished grew hazy. Her childhood home, the faces of loved ones, even her own name—all faded like mist under the morning sun. She was no longer Elira, the scholar. She was a vessel, a keeper of the forest’s secrets, tied irrevocably to the tree she had planted. The Legacy Years passed, though time no longer held meaning for her. The tree, now a towering sentinel, became a beacon for those who sought guidance. Travelers spoke of a grove where a mysterious figure waited, its cloak of moss and flowers indistinguishable from the forest itself. They spoke of answers given in riddles, of burdens lifted and new ones placed. One day, a young girl entered the grove, her eyes wide with wonder. She carried a satchel of supplies and a notebook filled with questions. The figure turned to her, its jade eyes glimmering with recognition. “You seek knowledge,” it said, its voice deep and resonant. “But knowledge is a burden as much as a gift. What will you give in return?” And so the cycle continued, the Turtle Shaman and the forest bound together in an unending dance of growth, decay, and renewal.     Bring the Magic Home Immerse yourself in the world of the Turtle Shaman with beautiful, high-quality products inspired by this enchanting tale. Each piece captures the essence of the Shaman’s timeless journey, making it a perfect gift or addition to your personal collection: Shop Tapestries – Transform any space with the magical charm of the Turtle Shaman’s world. Canvas Prints – Bring the lush details of the forest to life on your walls. Puzzles – Piece together the story of the Shaman with stunning visuals. Bath Towels – Infuse everyday moments with the spirit of the mystical forest. Explore these products and more to keep the magic alive in your own space. Shop the full collection here.