A Little Taste of Nonsense

There was once an old woman who spent all of her days picking needles from trees. This was quite a remarkable task as she lived in the moorlands and there was not a single tree around. Nevertheless she returned each evening from her wanderings with a basket full of needles. Her family never thought this strange, though had they not had buttons where their eyes should be perhaps they would have. They weaved the tree needles into remarkable shapes: dragons, boats, roast beef dinners. They had even weaved their home out of the needles, weaving a new addition whenever they found themselves running out of places to put their creations.

It was only when a traveler from strange lands whose eyes were eyes and not buttons found himself lost in the moors after a particularly vicious storm of black feathers blew him off the path. He had wandered for days and thought that if he did not find help soon he was unlikely to ever leave the moors again. This would be a remarkable disappointment to the man, as he despised the moors and the uneasiness that their barrenness spread.

Weak from hunger and desperate from thirst the man praised his armless god when he stumbled upon the strange needle house. It looked far too fragile to have survived the unsheltered weather of the moors, but where there was a house there was likely to be people living, and where people lived, he thought it likely he might find some food and water. When he knocked at the door tree needles shook themselves free of the weavings and entangled themselves in his hair. He had his eyes towards the ground as he rustled the needles from his head and so was quite startled when he lifted his gaze to the now open door and found himself face to face with an entire family of button-eyed individuals. He waved but they made no response, so instead he said hello and told them about his troubles to which they graciously invited him inside. They said they would be more than happy to provide him with some food and water and would even point him in the direction of the nearest town once he was rested. He thanked them for their generosity and sat down on a chair made of needles. It poked through his clothes uncomfortably but he was too much a gentleman to even consider complaining. His stomach growled angrily and his tongue rolled around like sand in his mouth. When the family set before him a turkey leg made of tree needles and a tree needle glass full of tree needles he enjoyed the meal without a second thought.