A monk was walking through the cool mists of the forest when something in the brush caught his eye. He knelt in the damp leaves and buried his hands in the foliage, trying to see among the shadows. His fingers tangled in soft fabric.
Standing up, he pulled out a thick, shimmering cloak. As he held it out in front of him, it twisted out of his hands and billowed out as though catching a strong wind. The monk tried to flee and found his limbs would not move. He stared in terror as the cloak settled around the shoulders of a shadowy form.
A dim, sad face appeared beneath the hood.
“Wait," it said. "You must stay and hear my tale, as I am forced to tell it to all who find me. Listen well.
"Many years ago, I was the lord of this land and forest and all you see around you. I was a grasping, greedy, envious man, but at the time I only thought I wanted what was rightfully mine.
"Let me stop you there," the monk said. "When someone finds you, and you tell them your story, do you always wear those robes?"
"Every time. Yes . . . Why?"
"Take it from someone who knows: That's a very bad habit."
Opening: Ellie.....Continuation: Anon.