Have you heard of the Chauns?
These tiny, grey leprechauns are close to impossible to notice, but one day – as my luck would have it – I managed to find one called Connie. Join me as I hear about their life of fun chasing fake cherries, exploring city streets, prying into a snail trial and being always carefree… or are they? When strange lights suddenly appear wherever Connie goes change begins to draw closer to them, but is it all for better or worse for the unwitting Chauns?
About the Author
Ilona Slack always loved drawing, English and books but it wasn’t until late 2015 that she began combining the three together after sketching her first Chaun, Connie. She worked on and completed her first book, Chauns.
In any spare time she can find, Ilona likes sketching on paper but spends most of her creative time working digitally. She also enjoys long walks, small birds and the deep scents of the sea.
Ilona has a Master and a Batchelor of Arts from Nottingham Trent University.
One fine day whilst filming at dawn,
I stumbled upon a leprechaun!
I aimed for a bee, my camera on zoom,
and saw him sat on top of a bloom.
I could not believe my eyes,
His pointy ears, his tiny size,
weren’t like the myths have told
of bearded men with pot of gold.
He was so deep in thought,
That my presence wasn’t caught,
I could take a really good look
As deep breaths he slowly took.
His solemn eyes were bright,
His short slacks quite tight.
He was grey and hard to spot,
even on a close up shot.
I went to greet him with an hello,
But I scared the little fellow.
He hid behind a leaf nearby,
I had a feeling this was goodbye.
I was to go and leave him be,
When he took a peek at me,
I rushed to say “Don’t run away!
I want to greet you if I may.”
He came closer, nothing to say,
But at least it meant I could stay.
I wished for him to be my friend,
And hear stories from his homeland.
He saw right through me there,
And told me with a stern glare,
“I have no stories yet to share.
Tell me a tale, this price is fair.”
I thought of one there and then
lucky he didn’t ask for ten.
Silly it may be, funny might not,
Sadly one chance was all I’d got.
“Wacky Wind,” I blurted out,
a strange title without doubt.
And so I began the tale,
That would either win or fail.