Welcome to another adventure from the Thousand Acre Woods. A place on the edge of Trollheim deep within the mysterious NJ Pine Belt! Tales Chronicled by Christopher Jonathan Hulton...That's me! Today's tale, I'm taking a relaxing stroll through the Thousand Acres Woods with my friend Bjorn.

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"So, where are we heading?" I asked.

"Do we need a destination—we are roaming," Bjorn answered. Roaming is the ancient magic of trolling about. You just head out the door and see where the day takes you. "I just felt like walking about the woods along the Davenport."

We started on top of Halfmoon Hill and meandered through the farm on the northern slope, down along the swamp.

Then we had fun walking the labyrinth across the fallen cedar trees from one side to the other and back again. 

Then we passed the fox dens in the old camp before we walked through the arboretum. Chowing on some giant blueberries, we climbed the stairs to walk through the circle of ghost trees. As we left the cemetery, Bjorn dropped some tobacco from his pocket onto Pop's father's burial mound. 

At the crossroads, we walked along the first hole of Duck's Pond.

At the bridge, we passed the pump house and walked up the hill. Before we came back down again, we stopped to admire the second waterhole. Then we descended the white sand beach and crossed over the back culvert. 

Bjorn pointed to the treeline on the other side. There was a squirrel chasing two others up a tree. When they reached the top, they just free-fell, grabbing a branch on the next tree, just before the ground. They repeated this dance all around the pond. I bet he found the other two alone with his wife…

Walking along the swamp, I felt we were being watched. I swore I heard someone giggle. Then I began thinking about this redhead who was flirting with me last night at Peggy's tavern.

"What are you thinking about?" Bjorn smirked.

"Hmmm…" some thoughts you just don't share.

At the next crossroads, we turned right toward the culvert. Bjorn grabbed two long sticks. He handed me one before climbing down to the water.

"Why are we getting on that?" I asked. "It would be quicker to just walk around the pond."

"Yes, but not as fun."

So we both got on the Tom Sawyer raft. We stuck our poles in the water and pushed the boat forward.

I heard someone giggling again.

"What is wrong?"

"I keep hearing someone laughing behind us."

"Sultry Annie."

"Who?""Sultry Annie, she haunts the woods around Boy Scout Pond."

"OK."

"Feeling a little amorous…"

"Um—hey!" I was blushing. If you could only read my mind…

"Not for me, but you are kinda cute—she is a bit flirtatious."

With that, a transparent native woman slipped onto the raft.

"If you don't catch that stick, it might hit the floor—I see you might need two hands to catch it though," she cracked. "If you don't want to let go of your pole, I can grab your stick for you."

Bjorn was having a ball watching me squirm.

"I have heard you playing your courting flute," she batted her eyes, "when will you let me blow it?"

I looked back and saw us floating past where I had lost my pole, which was still sticking out of the water. Bjorn just kept laughing.

I was tongue-tied.

"If you forgot how to use your tongue, I bet I can teach you."

My jaw dropped.

"They might be as big as half dollars, but they are not that big," she said as she placed a finger under my lip and closed my mouth just a little. "That is about right."

I looked over my shoulder and saw Otis the Great Otter and Bjorn sitting on the raft eating popcorn. 

"Where do you keep getting the popcorn?" I asked.

"I am a Troll, after all, Hulton," Bjorn answered as he passed the box to Otis. "It's magic—now continue."

"Continue?"

"I hope you're not only good for one show a day; I was hoping your performance could go on all night," she smiled some more.

I sat down and shook my head, "OK," I started getting my wits back. "How did this happen?"

"Do I need to explain it to you?" she said, looking below my waist.

"OK—how, did you die?"

"I said no, and he said yes," she shrugged. "Just before the swamp there, I woke up all wet… on the bottom. So it goes—I wished a bass had jumped up, at least…and bit his tiny worm off…"

"I'm sorry." 

She glowed a little.

"You know you can go anywhere in the world where you were the happiest?" I told her. Just basic mediumship.

Now the light gave her a form and a shadow. Before she was as flat as a lantern show on your bedroom wall. She leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. I felt a little static electricity, but nothing else. She overshot my cheek a little and kissed my molars. I could see her in the flesh, but not feel her.

She was like the rest of the Lenape around the cemetery who move about in the other dimension. She had been a ghost stuck on our side until she just got a little compassion. 

It was what freed the Fisher King.

Over the years, I talked with her through the dimensions and watched her shape many trees into giant bonsais. Her favorite shape was the lightning bolt to honor the Thunder People. She was Pop-Pops' grandmother who taught him to shape trees.

Did she ever help me straighten out my Longfellow; I'm not telling…