The earliest memory that comes to mind is of me accidentally sticking myself in the eye with a hook, Mamma use to constantly yell at Pop for leaving his gear lying round.

"Gods dammit Willy! You know lil Cree is gonna jam himself with anything he finds. Why leave it where he can reach?"

Pop use to just grunt back if ever he heard her screaming at him

"Not my fault the gobs dumber than pond muck"

Mamma scowled at him, then in typical Pop fashion he'd pick me up

"I'm joking of course!, hell I'm dumber than that. Now come here tike, let's clean you up and then go fishing whilst Mamma tidies up"

Can't say I ever saw Pops clean anything inside the house, not that Mamma would ever let him. That woman sure had a system.

Anytime I managed to hurt myself (which for some gosh darn reason happened a lot) Pops usually took me out on to the lake round back and we'd fish, skim stones or relax and look out on the beautiful mossy green lake.

If there's one word I can use to describe Clearwater it would be damp. Not that any of us locals minded much, we practically lived off of shrooms, any critter that lived in the marshes and of course the fish in the rivers and lakes.

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The smell of all the street merchants cooking fish, meat and shrooms was always wonderful as the scents travel down nearly every street, day or night. Cheap too! Why even in the town square you could get yourself a decent kebab for a couple of brass bolts.

I'm not entirely sure when our tribe first founded Clearwater, but I think it's safe to say over the centuries we've definitely made it our own.

We got lots of fun mud puddles to swim in on a nice summers day. Down by Ol' Gob Mcbuckets' farm you've got the finest mushroom field you'd ever lay your eyes on. Why some of them fungi glow beautiful shades and colours in the nightlight.

Popular place to smoke and mate too, at least amongst the young'uns.

The location that takes pride and joy to all us Goblins is, of course, the town junkyard.

Us Goblins collect all sorts of knick nacks, from the roads, left in abandoned places, the woods, even from graveyards and on dead bodies.

My Mamma makes a living building all kinds of stuff for folks out of what's in that junkyard.

Never had a knack for it myself, despite Mamma trying to teach me during my teen years. Said my head was too in the clouds to focus on anything involving spinning blades and tools.

Always been that way I'm afraid, even when Pops took me fishing. Felt like my head just wasn't in it. Like I was meant for better things than hunting fish and making panels for Ms Gilliweeds extension.

I'll be damned if I know what though, all I know is I sure do love thinking of stories and playing music on my guitar.

The day I met 'Wynona' was a mighty fine one, mighty fine one indeed.

Can't say it started out that way though.

"Creedence"

Why if I remember correctly

"Creedence!"

my Pop has just decided today we was

"CREEDENCE!"