Repeat after me.
Good evening,” said Belle Byrd, as she removed her black cloak to reveal her bright blue plumage. Each feather sparkled in the moonlight. Her eyes glistened with the luster of born nobility and twinkled with the slightest hint of sass purring beneath the calm. In a glimpse, you deemed her a beautiful paradox.
“I am, as you know, the Queen of the Quails. Before you continue reading QuailBellMagazine.com, I command you to recite the blog affirmation. Only then shall you join my coven of Quail Bell(e)s. Now please place your right wing over your heart and repeat after me:
We are all imaginative.
We are all nostalgic.
We cling to the strange, adore the very strange, and lust after the otherworldly.
We are all history geeks.
We are all folklore-lovers.
We believe in fairy tales—even if we're cynical about 'Happily ever after.'
We are all artists.
We are all storytellers.
We respect the desire, nay, need, to create—both within ourselves and others.
We are a community of dreamers.
We are all Quail Bell(e)s.”
Belle Byrd smiled serenely, the edges of her beak verging on cracking from elegant laughter. “There,” she said, “You belong. Now you may keep reading.”