There was an old spice merchant who lived down by the seaside. His name was Mr. Mot, grandma said he was a Moon Rat and that's why he looked so different. But grandma also said the beast headed folks were as much people as we were. He had come from one of the far lands beyond the Crescent Port. In his younger days he had been to Lemuria and Mu. I was always enchanted by the stories he would tell.

To the south of our shores were fantastic lands. There were the plantations and palaces of the Lemur people who ride on ostriches and farm sugarcane, sisal, and bananas. There were great deserts of orange sand that never stopped moving and mountains with Silver cables that could be ridden to the moon. Long tailed people lived half in and half out of the ocean in stone cities that had been built before there was snow. The lands of Mu were more wondrous still, where there are no flowers and ferns and pines grow into lightless forests where great monstrous reptiles, salamanders, and giant harry birds hunt in the cold. The Bones of the dead gods rise into the air there high as hills. The people there are small as children and painted in jade and indigo tattoos.

My own world seemed so dull in comparison. Boring farms and boring colleges where boring doctors in masks or red robes looked at books all day. North of that was nothing but ice and trolls. I always wanted to get on one of those south bound ships to see those wonderful places. The only question that made me doubt all those marvelous tales was this, if there were such wonderful places down there why had he chose to live in our boring community?