This is a work of fiction; anything resembling reality is a figment of your imagination.
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Three generations of them lived together in the old house in West Virginia, on it's nine acres. Old Ma'm, her brogue still thick and rich as a good stew, whose proper given name was Ivy. Old Ma'm's daughter, Rose, as beautiful as her name and sometimes as thorny. There was almost nine year old May, Rose's daughter; as lovely as a perfect spring morning, with a sunny nature that matched her name. Then there was young Tommy, a slim lad of twelve, he wasn't a Queen like them; there was a good deal of speculation amongst the people of the area about where he'd come from. Most thought he was an orphaned or abandoned child the women had taken in; some of the older folk whispered back and forth about changelings, Tommy being a bit odd in his ways. Still, there was no denying that he was devoted to the Queens and that they were devoted to him.
Peering through the branches, Tommy waved May forward with her lantern. "Careful now Maypop, something ain't right." They were looking for Mrs. McGuffin, the wayward hen who sought out the oddest, wildest places to hide her eggs and having more trouble than usual finding her. Tiptoeing ahead as best she could (the cowboy boots she'd coveted all winter had been an early birthday gift and they were still stiff) she followed Tommy's finger as he pointed at a lifeless Mrs. McGuffin. The snake which had taken the hen's life and, apparently, swallowed her eggs was curled up beside the feathery body; staring at them soundlessly... As the children watched a grey mist rose from the serpent's back and formed into an ugly, shadowy, little grey man. "Run Tommy" May whispered, "tell Old Ma'm and Mama there's a grey on our land!"
I'm going to be very, very bad and finish this tomorrow. Hope you'll forgive me.