π”°π”žπ”Άπ”’π”― 𝔱𝔒𝔩𝔩𝔒𝔯

𝔴𝔒𝔩𝔠𝔬π”ͺ𝔒, 𝔣𝔒𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴 π”΄π”žπ”«π”‘π”’π”―π”’π”―… π”΄π”žπ”«π”‘π”’π”― 𝔴𝔦𝔱π”₯ π”ͺ𝔒 π”žπ”΄π”₯𝔦𝔩𝔒. 𝔭𝔬𝔫𝔑𝔒𝔯 𝔴𝔦𝔱π”₯ π”ͺ𝔒 π”žπ”΄π”₯𝔦𝔩𝔒.

The Author

Sayer Teller

Having seen much through countless expression,

I know my way around, though, β€œWhere to?” Is the question.

Drifting from place to place, creating worlds within worlds too,

I am a storyteller of sorts, with many stories to tell you.

I humΒ and I strum, whittle and whistle,

I’ve laboured in the coldest cold and picked many a thistle.

Forgotten and remembered, I endure through refining,

For I seek the golden threads within the silver lining.

A sincere yet wind-bound path, duty-bound to inspire,

For melodies change tides and words rekindle fire.

You may hear from time to time, from where I tend to dwell,

My name is Sayer Teller, and I have a few stories to tell.

𝔱π”₯𝔒 𝔭𝔒𝔫 𝔦𝔰 𝔱π”₯𝔒 π”΄π”žπ”«π”‘ 𝔬𝔣 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔩𝔑𝔰…

There are books on the horizon. “The Washcloth”, Book I of The Confounding Oddities of Lachesis Grim, a Victorian-era dark fantasy series, is well on its way.


Perhaps you may stumble upon something that you will like. In either case, stay awhile and peruse The Aught of the Oaken Reed at your leisure.

Welcome,

sayertellerbws