Once

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Once upon a time--of all the good days in the year, on Christmas Eve--old Scrooge sat busy in his counting-house. It was cold, bleak, biting weather: foggy withal: and he could hear the people in the court outside, go wheezing up and down, beating their hands upon their breasts, and stamping their feet upon the pavement stones to warm them. The city clocks had only just gone three, but it was quite dark already--it had not been light all day--and candles were flaring in the windows of the neighbouring offices, like ruddy smears upon the palpable brown air. The fog came pouring in at every chink and keyhole, and was so dense without, that although the court was of the narrowest, the houses opposite were mere phantoms. To see the dingy cloud come drooping down, obscuring everything, one might have thought that Nature lived hard by, and was brewing on a large scale.

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Once upon a time there was a watchfob who didn't have a chain to keep him in place and who didn't have a watch to keep him on time.

He missed appointments and frequently fell on the floor and rolled under the bed.

But he was a happy watchfob.

Once upon a time.

All the best stories begin »Once upon a time...«.

once we met
something happened
and somehow
something
changed

forever.

You only live once.....Jeez, I couldn't cope with another one.

Once upon a time, there was a little man named Norman. He was a wrinkled old man, and lived a long happy life. His secret? Three pints of Guinness a day, a different woman every week, and no children to wear him down.

Norman may have lived a long happy life... but he died a lonely man, his last word consisting of a single tear falling from his left eye onto the satin pillowcase beneath his head.

once upon a time is how fairy tales start. does that mean that all good things and sexy princes are parts of the past?