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heard birds blurring

nuabea - j dilla type beat stereo mixed

Broken Altar, Bleeding WordBroken Altar, Bleeding WordBroken Altar, Bleeding WordBroken Altar, Bleeding WordBroken Altar, Bleeding Word

Broken Altar, Bleeding Word - Sandpiper Crossings Beat Journey tailored

Once upon a time, in the quiet town of Willowbrook, there lived a most peculiar creature known only as Barz. No one knew where he had come from or how long he had been there, but everyone knew of his misdeeds. Barz was a sock thief. Not just any sock thief, but the most notorious and elusive one the town had ever seen.

It all started with whispers among the townsfolk. At first, they dismissed it as absentmindedness. People simply thought they had misplaced their socks. But soon, the truth became impossible to ignore. Single socks would disappear overnight, vanishing without a trace. Whether they were tucked away in drawers, hanging on clotheslines, or snugly worn to bed, no sock was safe from the grasp of Barz.

The mayor, a stout and serious man named Harold Blimley, called for a town meeting. "We must catch this menace before we all walk around in mismatched pairs!" he declared, pounding his fist on the podium. The townspeople nodded in solemn agreement. They devised plans, set traps, and even stationed guards near their laundry lines. But no matter what they did, Barz remained one step ahead.

Some claimed to have caught a glimpse of him—a swift shadow darting through the moonlight, a pair of glowing yellow eyes peering through the bushes. Others spoke of an eerie chuckle echoing through the streets in the dead of night. No one, however, had ever seen Barz up close.

It was young Tommy Withers, an inquisitive boy of ten, who took it upon himself to solve the mystery. Armed with nothing but a flashlight and a piece of cheese (for reasons known only to himself), Tommy stayed up late, determined to catch the elusive thief. As the town clock struck midnight, a rustling sound came from the laundry line outside his window.

Holding his breath, Tommy peered out. There, beneath the silver glow of the moon, he saw a small, wiry creature with spindly limbs and shaggy fur. It had enormous ears and a long, bushy tail that twitched with excitement as it snatched a woolen sock from the line. Tommy gasped, and in an instant, the creature turned its head, its luminous yellow eyes locking onto him.

"Who—who are you?" Tommy stammered.

The creature tilted its head, then grinned a wide, toothy grin. "I am Barz," it rasped, stuffing the sock into a satchel slung over its shoulder. "And you, little human, have sharp eyes."

"Why do you take our socks?" Tommy asked, his curiosity outweighing his fear.

Barz's grin softened. "Ah, you see, socks are the coziest things in the world. I weave them into blankets, I make them into nests, and sometimes, I simply wear them as tiny hats!" He twirled a particularly fluffy sock on his clawed finger. "I never take both, only one—so you humans will always have a mystery."

Tommy considered this. "That’s... really annoying."

Barz chuckled. "Perhaps. But mystery is what keeps life interesting."

Tommy frowned, then had an idea. "What if I gave you socks? Would you stop stealing them?"

Barz’s eyes gleamed. "A trade? You would gift me socks willingly?"

"Sure. But only the ones that have lost their pair. That way, nobody has to walk around mismatched."

Barz stroked his chin. "Hmmm. A fair bargain! Very well, young human. Bring me your lonely socks, and I shall trouble your town no more!"

From that night on, Tommy became the Keeper of the Socks, gathering every lonely sock in Willowbrook and leaving them in a small wooden box outside his home. Each morning, the socks would be gone, and in their place, Barz would leave tiny trinkets—shiny pebbles, acorn caps, and delicate feathers.

The sock thefts ceased, and the town of Willowbrook slept soundly once more, their pairs intact. And though Barz remained a mystery, if one listened closely on a quiet night, they might still hear a chuckle drifting through the trees, followed by the soft rustle of a sock being put to good use.



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