Fuzzy Fear

                A long, long time ago, there was a village. This village, over looked by a large stone castle, was home to the poorest of the poor. Every day, these people worked and worked for pennies. The prince who lived in the castle saw these impoverished people out his window every day, but he did nothing to help them. One day, in a dream, the prince saw a small ball. This ball was no ordinary ball for many reasons. It was furry, fur the shade o the ocean where the water touches the sky. It was small, only a wee bit larger than the prince’s fist. And it was rather talkative, its voice a high pitch squeal, yet bold and commanding. The fuzzy ball warned the prince to take care of his people or they would over throw him. Like any arrogant prince would do, the prince ignored the fuzzy ball’s warnings and carried on with his lazy life of luxury.

Later, after the prince awoke, he saw the ball again. Every day and every night, the prince saw the ball. The days melted into weeks, the weeks into months, and the months into years. Every day and every night the fuzzy monstrosity appeared to the prince; however, the prince refused to give up his life of luxury to help his people. He was driven mad by this little ball. Who knew that something so small could drive the prince up a wall? His insanity drove him to suicide. After his death, as many would expect, no one mourned the loss of their prince. In fact, the people of the kingdom were overjoyed. The new prince was put in power. However, conditions did not improve, and the new prince was possibly even worse than his predecessor. One night, a fuzzy ball appeared to the new prince in a dream…