The Witch in the Stone Boat

The Witch in the Stone Boat - from- http://oaks.nvg.org/pega4.html

THERE were once a king and a queen, and they had a son called Sigurd, who was very strong and active, and good-looking. When the king came to be bowed down with the weight of years he spoke to his son, and said that now it was time for him to look out for a fitting match for himself, for he did not know how long he might last now, and he would like to see him married before he died.

Sigurd was not averse to this, and asked his father where he thought it best to look for a wife. The king answered that in a certain country there was a king who had a beautiful daughter, and he thought it would be most desirable if Sigurd could get her. So the two parted, and Sigurd prepared for the journey, and went to where his father had directed him.

He came to the king and asked his daughter's hand, which he readily granted him, but only on the condition that he should remain there as long as he could, for the king himself was not strong and not very able to govern his kingdom. Sigurd accepted this condition, but added that he would have to get leave to go home again to his own country when he heard news of his father's death. After that Sigurd married the princess, and helped his father-in-law to govern the kingdom. He and the princess loved each other dearly, and after a year a son came to them, who was two years old when word came to Sigurd that his father was dead. Sigurd now prepared to return home with his wife and child, and went on board ship to go by sea.

They had sailed for several days, when the breeze suddenly fell, and there came a dead calm, at a time when they needed only one day's voyage to reach home. Sigurd and his queen were one day on deck, when most of the others on the ship had fallen asleep. There they sat and talked for a while, and had their little son along with them. After a time Sigurd became so heavy with sleep that he could no longer keep awake, so he went below and lay down, leaving the queen alone on the deck, playing with her son.

A good while after Sigurd had gone below the queen saw something black on the sea, which seemed to be coming nearer. As it approached she could make out that it was a boat, and could see the figure of some one sitting in it and rowing it. At last the boat came alongside the ship, and now the queen saw that it was a stone boat, out of which there came up on board the ship a fearfully ugly Witch. The queen was more frightened than words can describe, and could neither speak a word nor move from the place so as to awaken the king or the sailors. The Witch came right up to the queen, took the child from her and laid it on the deck; then she took the queen, and stripped her of all her fine clothes, which she proceeded to put on herself, and looked then like a human being. Last of all she took the queen, put her into the boat, and said –

"This spell I lay on you, that you slacken not your course until you come to my brother in the underworld."

The queen sat stunned and motionless, but the boat at once shot away from the ship with her, and before long she was out of sight.

When the boat could no longer be seen the child began to cry, and though the Witch tried to quiet it she could not manage it; so she went below to where the king was sleeping with the child on her arm, and awakened him, scolding him for leaving them alone on deck, while he and all the crew were asleep. It was great carelessness of him, she said, to leave no one to watch the ship with her.

Sigurd was greatly surprised to hear his queen scold him so much, for she had never said an angry word to him before; but he thought it was quite excusable in this case, and tried to quiet the child along with her, but it was no use. Then he went and wakened the sailors, and bade them hoist the sails, for a breeze had sprung up and was blowing straight towards the harbour.

They soon reached the land which Sigurd was to rule over, and found all the people sorrowful for the old King's death, but they became glad when they got Sigurd back to the Court, and made him King over them.

The king's son, however, hardly ever stopped crying from the time he had been taken from his mother on the deck of the ship, although he had always been such a good child before, so that at last the king had to get a nurse for him – one of the maids of the Court. As soon as the child got into her charge he stopped crying, and behaved well as before.

After the sea-voyage it seemed to the king that the queen had altered very much in many ways, and not for the better. He thought her much more haughty and stubborn and difficult to deal with than she used to be. Before long others began to notice this as well as the king. In the Court there were two young fellows, one of eighteen years old, the other of nineteen, who were very fond of playing chess, and often sat long inside playing at it. Their room was next the queen's, and often during the day they heard the queen talking.

One day they paid more attention than usual when they heard her talk, and put their ears close to a crack in the wall between the rooms, and heard the queen say quite plainly, "When I yawn a little, then I am a nice little maiden; when I yawn half-way, then I am half a troll; and when I yawn fully, then I am a troll altogether."

As she said this she yawned tremendously, and in a moment had put on the appearance of a fearfully ugly troll. Then there came up through the floor of the room a three-headed giant with a trough full of meat, who saluted her as his sister and set down the trough before her. She began to eat out of it, and never stopped till she had finished it. The young fellows saw all this going on, but did not hear the two of them say anything to each other. They were astonished though at how greedily the queen devoured the meat, and how much she ate of it, and were no longer surprised that she took so little when she sat at table with the king. As soon as she had finished it the giant disappeared with the trough by the same way as he had come, and the queen returned to her human shape.

Now we must go back to the king's son after he had been put in charge of the nurse. One evening, after she had lit a candle and was holding the child, several planks sprang up in the floor of the room, and out at the opening came a beautiful woman dressed in white, with an iron belt round her waist, to which was fastened an iron chain that went down into the ground. The woman came up to the nurse, took the child from her, and pressed it to her breast; then she gave it back to the nurse and returned by the same way as she had come, and the floor closed over her again. Although the woman had not spoken a single word to her, the nurse was very much frightened, but told no one about it.

Next evening the same thing happened again, just as before, but as the woman was going away she said in a sad tone, "Two are gone, and one only is left," and then disappeared as before. The nurse was still more frightened when she heard the woman say this, and thought that perhaps some danger was hanging over the child, though she had no ill-opinion of the unknown woman, who, indeed, had behaved towards the child as if it were her own. The most mysterious thing was the woman saying "and only one is left;" but the nurse guessed that this must mean that only one day was left, since she had come for two days already.

At last the nurse made up her mind to go to the king, and told him the whole story, and asked him to be present in person next day about the time when the woman usually came. The king promised to do so, and came to the nurse's room a little before the time, and sat down on a chair with his drawn sword in his hand. Soon after the planks in the floor sprang up as before, and the woman came up, dressed in white, with the iron belt and chain. The king saw at once that it was his own queen, and immediately hewed asunder the iron chain that was fastened to the belt. This was followed by such noises and crashings down in the earth that all the king's castle shook, so that no one expected anything else than to see every bit of it shaken to pieces. At last, however, the noises and shaking stopped, and they began to come to themselves again.

The king and queen embraced each other, and she told him the whole story – how the Witch came to the ship when they were all asleep and sent her off in the boat. After she had gone so far that she could not see the ship, she sailed on through darkness until she landed beside a three-headed giant. The giant wished her to marry him, but she refused; whereupon he shut her up by herself, and told her she would never get free until she consented. After a time she began to plan how to get free, and at last told him that she would consent if he would allow her to visit her son on earth three days on end. This he agreed to, but put on her this iron belt and chain, the other end of which he fastened round his own waist, and the great noises that were heard when the king cut the chain must have been caused by the giant's falling down the underground passage when the chain gave way so suddenly. The giant's dwelling, indeed, was right under the castle, and the terrible shakings must have been caused by him in his death-throes.

The king now understood how the queen he had had for some time past had been so ill- tempered. He at once had a sack drawn over her head and made her be stoned to death, and after that torn in pieces by untamed horses. The two young fellows also told now what they had heard and seen in the queen's room, for before this they had been afraid to say anything about it, on account of the queen's power.

The real queen was now restored to all her dignity, and was beloved by all. The nurse was married to a nobleman, and the king and queen gave her splendid presents.

--I love that the nurse is more courageous and approaches the king than the gaurds are! XD way to go nurse!!

Part II of a Collaborative Fairytale

At long last, forgive me. I also humbly apologize for the rushed nature of these lines. They were composed this morning at a coffeeshop while under the influence of the wares sold at such places.

Straightening out her cloak, the princess checked around her to make sure no one had seen her clandestine arrival. There was no one about the courtyard. "Strange." she thought to herself as she reached to pick up her bag. "There is always at least someone around. This is a castle afterall." Despite this the courtyard and arched doorways leading into the entrance halls of the castle were deserted. Dusk was beginning to fall creating long bars of shadow arcoss the courtyard green. The princess began walking along these lines of shade to keep herself as hidden as possible, in case someone should come roaming. "Why should I walk in shadow?" she thought. "I am disguised! No one shall know me, they will think me a servant!" With new resolve the princess raised her head and marched right out of the courtyard and into the castle's township.

Because the Night, in her infinite mystery and depth, was coming on fast over the tiny kingdom the princess felt it best to make haste, but to where? Where to go? The coast was near, perhaps a ship! To take a ship! Oh, the quixotic nature of a sea voyage quickened her heart, and her pace, as she passed castle merchants taking down their stalls for the night. Then a thought struck her. Pirating adventures and sailor's tales are only truly romantic in books or via the honeyed throats of troubadours when a fair princess is snuggled next to a fire or wistfully leaning on the railings of her balcony. In reality, sea voyages are tedious, damp with a strong hint of brine, and too much sun. None of which are pleasant for a fair maid who too easily slips into ennui, and when sailors by there very nature are a gruff peoples who are usually smelling of piss, and after all; salt spray and an over abundance of sun are never good for the skin. "Perhaps, a ship is not so suiting to my taste after all." She thought.

While she was thinking these very juvenile and yet practical thoughts our princess still had not made her way through the castle village to the main gate which would then lead her into the wild beyonds of her realm and the things she knew. Her boots stirred up the dirt in a huffy-scuffy sort of way. One could tell that her step was intentionally careless. She tugged in an amateurish way at her shift as the coarse wool beat gently against her collar. The people passing her were ordinary enough. Dull roars issuing forth from taverns as she passed towards the castle gates. Music also accompanied the loud voices as the townspeople made their way home about her. Never had she stopped to look at her surroundings when she had been allowed to enter into the town. She had always been ushered about by guards or her companions from stale to stale, especially on festival days. The princess found a small doorway with a generous wood covering from which she could place herself, at least for a moment, and observe those peoples and their happenings. Nestling herself in this manner, one shoulder slouched against the side of the frame, she watched, smelled, and drank with all of her senses the new world into which she had transplanted herself.

Lamps were being lighted in windows. Through doorways she could see fires being built up for the evening meal by disgruntled matrons too used to this daily ritual, and contrasting with young wives still tending lovingly to every careful timber placed within the hearth. Tender caress passing from husbands and wives, reunited after a day of separate tasks. Children running in and out of these same doorways, through the narrow streets, causing their last bits of mischief for this sun's cycle. Animals began nestling into doorways, in a fashion similar to her current position. She became aware of the feeling of being watched and our voyeureuse checked herself and began to look around more closely. Scanning the upper story windows of the structure under which she stood. A pale colored cat sat in one such window and was eying her suspiciously, as if it knew she was a stranger in this familiar place. The cat's coat was a dirty white and the hair about it's shoulders bristled, giving the appearance of a disgruntled mantle. Despite these poor elements of appearance the cat still sat erect, as if presiding over all that passed beneath it. The natural pretension and arrogance of cats would rival that of any despot and this cat was no exception. Suddenly, a light came on in the darkened room which framed the cat. Its eyes flashed momentarily as it turned to face whomever had lightened the room before descending from the window, and by a series of cleverly planned jumps landed without so much as a thump on the road. The cat took one more look up to the window from which it had just flown before once again locking eyes with our princess. While not at all together unusual for a cat to do any of these activities something in the aura of this cat was strange and haunting to our princess. The creature began to move towards her, never breaking its gaze. The princess too began to move, very naturally stooping to give the puss a friendly pat once it should reach her. Suddenly the cat stopped in its tracks and issued forth a most ferocious hiss, its ears pricked and its hackles raised. Startled, the princess made to turn to see what had upset her new acquaintance. But as she made to move, two rough hands grabbed her about the arms, flinging her into the darkness beyond the dusky doorway, before she had even a chance to cry out.

A very cool little baba yaga video!
How more fitting for 'Huts on Fowl's Legs'?



I hope it makes you smile as much as I did!!
-Clarabella

The Mermaid Wife (The Selkie Wife)

---This is a fun little story that shows more of the Selkie's point of view than we've gotten in the usual tale---

A story is told of an inhabitant of Unst, who, in walking on the sandy margin of a voe, saw a number of mermen and mermaids dancing by moonlight, and several seal-skins strewed beside them on the ground. At his approach they immediately fled to secure their garbs, and, taking upon themselves the form of seals, plunged immediately into the sea. But as the Shetlander perceived that one skin lay close to his feet, he snatched it up, bore it swiftly away, and placed it in concealment. On returning to the shore he met the fairest damsel that was ever gazed upon by mortal eyes, lamenting the robbery, by which she had become an exile from her submarine friends, and a tenant of the upper world. Vainly she implored the restitution of her property; the man had drunk deeply of love, and was inexorable; but he offered her protection beneath his roof as his betrothed spouse. The merlady, perceiving that she must become an inhabitant of the earth, found that she could not do better than accept of the offer. This strange attachment subsisted for many years, and the couple had several children. The Shetlander’s love for his merwife was unbounded, but his affection was coldly returned. The lady would often steal alone to the desert strand, and, on a signal being given, a large seal would make his appearance, with whom she would hold, in an unknown tongue, an anxious conference. Years had thus glided away, when it happened that one of the children, in the course of his play, found concealed beneath a stack of corn a seal’s skin; and, delighted with the prize, he ran with it to his mother. Her eyes glistened with rapture—she gazed upon it as her own—as the means by which she could pass through the ocean that led to her native home. She burst forth into an ecstasy of joy, which was only moderated when she beheld her children, whom she was now about to leave; and, after hastily embracing them, she fled with all speed towards the sea-side. The husband immediately returned, learned the discovery that had taken place, ran to overtake his wife, but only arrived in time to see her transformation of shape completed—to see her, in the form of a seal, bound from the ledge of a rock into the sea. The large animal of the same kind with whom she had held a secret converse soon appeared, and evidently congratulated her, in the most tender manner, on her escape. But before she dived to unknown depths, she cast a parting glance at the wretched Shetlander, whose despairing looks excited in her breast a few transient feelings of commiseration.

“Farewell!” said she to him, “and may all good attend you. I loved you very well when I resided upon earth, but I always loved my first husband much better.”

The Black Bull of Norroway

This is one of my favorite fairytales. My mother read this to me when I was little but I had since lost that book of fairytales and believed the story to be lost to me since I could not remember the title. I only knew that a princess had iron boots to climb a glass mountain, she rode on the back of a bull who was a prince, and the sky would turn shades of blue and red.

This is the fairytale taken from Sur La Lune (a fairytale website). http://www.surlalunefairytales.com/eastsunwestmoon/stories/norroway.html

It is horribly annotated. But it is still a wonderful read. I would encourage you all to read the original fairytale in full. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this for a little Tuesday morning read!

Black Bull of Norroway(An EnglishTale)

IN NORROWAY, long time ago, there lived a certain lady, and she had three daughters: The oldest of them said to her mother: "Mother, bake me bannock, and roast me collop, for I'm going away to seek my fortune." Her mother did so; and the daughter went away to an old witch washerwife and told her purpose. The old wife bade her stay that day, and look out of her back-door, and see what she could see. She saw nought the first day. The second day she did the same, and saw nought. On the third day she looked again, and saw a coach-and-six coming along the road. She ran in and told the old wife what she saw. "Well," quoth the old woman, "yon's for you." So they took her into the coach and galloped off.

The second daughter next says to her mother: "Mother, bake me a bannock, and roast me a collop, for I'm going away to seek my fortune." Her mother did so; and away she went to the old wife, as her sister had done. On the third day she looked out of the back-door, and saw a coach-and-four coming along the road. "Well," quoth the old woman, "yon's for you." So they took her in, and off they set.

The third daughter says to her mother: "Mother, bake me a bannock, and roast me a collop, for I'm going away to seek my fortune." Her mother did so; and away she went to the old witch. She bade her look out of her back-door, and see what she could see. She did so; and when she came back, said she saw nought. The second day she did the same, and saw nought. The third day she looked again, and on coming back said to the old wife she saw nought but a great Black Bull coming crooning along the road. "Well," quoth the old woman, "yon's for you." On hearing this she was next to distracted with grief and terror; but she was lifted up and set on his back, and away they went.

Aye they traveled, and on they traveled, till the lady grew faint with hunger. "Eat out of my right ear," says the Black Bull, "and drink out of my left ear, and set by your leaving." So she did as he said and was wonderfully refreshed. And long they rode, and hard they rode, till they came in sight of a very big and bonny castle. "Yonder we must be this night," quoth the Bull; "for my elder brother lives yonder;" and presently they were at the place. They lifted her off his back, and took her in, and sent him away to a park for the night. In the morning, when they brought the Bull home, they took the lady into a fine shining parlour, and gave her a beautiful apple, telling her not to break it till she was in the greatest strait ever mortal was in the world, and that would bring her out of it. Again she was lifted on the Bull's back, and after she had ridden far, and farther than I can tell, they came in sight of a far bonnier castle, and far farther away than the last. Says the Bull, "Yonder we must be this night, for my second brother lives yonder;" and they were at the place directly. They lifted her down and took her in, and sent the Bull to the field for the night. In the morning they took the lady into a fine and rich room, and gave her the finest pear she had ever seen, bidding her not to break it till she was in the greatest strait ever mortal could be in, and that would get her out of it. Again she was lifted and set on his back, and away they went. And long they rose, and hard they rode, till they came in sight of the far biggest castle, and far farthest off, they had yet seen. "We must be yonder to-night," says the Bull, "for my young brother lives yonder;" and they were there directly. They lifted her down, took her in, and sent the Bull to the field for the night. In the morning they took her into a room, the finest of all, and gave her a plum, telling her not to break it till she was in the greatest strait mortal could be in, and that would get her out of it. Presently they brought home the Bull, set the lady on his back, and away they went.

And aye they rode, and on they rode, till they came to a dark and ugsome glen, where they stopped, and the lady lighted down. Says the Bull to her: "Here you must stay till I go and fight the Old One. You must seat yourself on that stone, and move neither hand nor foot till I come back, else I'll never find you again. And if everything round about you turns blue, I have beaten the Old One; but should all things turn red, he'll have conquered me." She set herself down on the stone, and by-and-by all round her turned blue. Overcome with joy, she lifted one of her feet, and crossed it over the other, so glad was she that her companion was victorious. The Bull returned and sought for her, but never could find her.

Long she sat, and aye she wept, till she wearied. At last she rose and went away, she didn't know where. On she wandered, till she came to a great hill of glass, that she tried all she could to climb, but wasn't able. Round the bottom of the hill she went, came to a smith's house; and the smith promised, if she would serve him seven years, he would make her iron shoon, wherewith she could climb over the glassy hill. At seven years' end she got her iron shoon, clomb the glassy hill, and chanced to come to the old washerwife's habitation. There she was told of a gallant young knight that had given in some clothes all over blood to wash, and whoever washed them was to be his wife. The old wife had washed till she was tired, and then she set her daughter at it, and both washed, and they washed, and they washed, in hopes of getting the young knight; but for all they could do they couldn't bring out a stain. At length they set the stranger damsel to work; and whenever she began, the stains came out pure and clean, and the old wife made the knight believe it was her daughter had washed the clothes. So the knight and the eldest daughter were to be married, and the stranger damsel was distracted at the thought of it, for she was deeply in love with him. So she bethought her of her apple and breaking it, found it filled with gold and precious jewelry, the richest she had ever seen. "All these," she said to the eldest daughter, "I will give you, on condition that you put off your marriage for one day and allow me to go into his room alone at night." The lady consented; but meanwhile the old wife had prepared a sleeping drink, and given it to the knight who drank it, and never wakened till next morning. The live long night the damsel sobbed and sang:

"Seven long years I served for thee,The glassy hill I clomb for thee,Thy bloody clothes I wrang for thee;And wilt thou not waken and turn to me?"
Next day she knew not what to do for grief. Then she broke the pear, and found it filled with jewelry far richer than the contents of the apple. With these jewels she bargained for permission to be a second night in the young knight's chamber; but the old wife gave him another sleeping drink, and again he slept till morning. All night she kept sighing, and singing as before:
"Seven long years I served for thee,The glassy hill I clomb for thee,Thy bloody clothes I wrang for thee;And wilt thou not waken and turn to me?"

Still he slept, and she nearly lost hope altogether. But that day, when he was out hunting, somebody asked him what noise and moaning was that they heard all last night in his bedchamber. He said: "I have heard no noise." But they assured him there was; and he resolved to keep waking that night to try what he could hear. That being the third night and the damsel being between hope and despair, she broke her plum, and it held far the richest jewelry of the three. She bargained as before, and the old wife, as before, took in the sleeping drink to the young knight's chamber; but he told her he couldn't drink it that night without sweetening. And when she went away for some honey to sweeten it with, he poured out the drink, and so made the old wife think he had drunk it. They all went to bed again, and the damsel began, as before, singing:

"Seven long years I served for thee,The glassy hill I clomb for thee,Thy bloody clothes I wrang for thee;And wilt thou not waken and turn to me?"
He heard, and turned to her. And she told him all that had befallen her, and he told her all that had happened to him. And he caused the old washerwife and her daughter to be burnt. And they were married, and he and she are living happy to this day, for aught I know.

The First Segment of a Collaborative Fairytale

The Beginning

“Sigh” the golden haired princess gazed out her window, her velvet clad elbows resting on the sill. She looked long and painfully at the verdant rolling hills and thick dark groves of trees, and then miserably down at the procession leaving through the gates below.

“Disgusting.” She frowned down toward the man who couldn’t hear her and wouldn’t look up anyway. Just one more simpering prince from some far away land. She turned her back on the window and cast her wide violet eyes at her bookshelf, one tome in particular stood out from the rest; a large collection of fairy stories her grandmother used to read her as a child.

“Sigh” here she was stuck in her family’s impenetrable stone palace, resigned to a fate of waiting for her parents to decide on a suitor…her brother had no problems like this, he was set to inherit the whole kingdom, and off an one adventure or another every other day! Was she never to have an adventure like the princesses in her stories? She walked over to the shelf and taking the book down she sat upon her down filled mattresses, opening the pages at random she came across a tale she had nearly forgotten. It was the tale of a princess who, while walking in her garden at night had chanced upon a fairy ring and fallen underground to the world of the shidhe. This princess had had many great adventures, but in the end came home whereupon she married the good prince who had been searching for her and settled down.

Slamming the book closed, her eyes narrowed to amethyst slits she looked to the last drawer in her bureau. She spoke in a whisper with a deadly calm. “This is it. I must make my own adventure.” In this last drawer she had hidden several objects she had collected over the years in preparation for any grand quest that might have been thrust upon her as it was for all the brave and wilting princesses alike in her stories. She stood and with purpose strode over to the drawer. Pulling it open she rummaged through the assorted vials of various liquids, clothes, small easily concealed weaponry, and other such items an upstanding young princess should never need have in her possession, and selected a large glass bottle full of blackest liquid and a large pair of silver shears.
She walked quickly to the tall mirror hanging above her wash basin. Her eyes were alight with a wild feverish glow. “This is it.” She repeated to herself as she looked from her reflection in the mirror to the jar and back. Steeling herself, her heart beating wildly in her chest she set the bottle down on the wash table and without pausing for second thoughts she took her long golden locks in one hand and the shears in the other and in just a few seconds her gleaming blonde hair was all around the hem of her pale lavender gown.

The princess looked at her new reflection. Short golden waves reaching just above her shoulders shown out from the mirror. She smiled wryly. “No going back now.” She pulled the cork from the top of the bottle and looked deep into the dark liquid within. She had bought this last summer at the annual fair. The Gypsy woman who sold it to her told her it would dye anything a deep midnight black, be it fabric, wood, leather, or hair. She hoped the Gypsy had been telling her the truth. After staring into the bottle for what felt like ages readying herself for one more plunge she flipped her shorn hair over into to the basin and set to work. She hoped it was working as she rubbed the dye into her hair. Keeping her eyes tight closed was very difficult as she longed to see if it was making a difference, but the Gypsy woman had told her not to let any of the liquid get into her eyes. Once she felt that her hair was thoroughly saturated she stood over the bowl for a few moments as she had been told to do, then rinsed it out into the basin. Once she felt it rinsed enough she cautiously opened her eyes and flipped her hair back into a towel. She dried her now much shorter hair in no time and soon she was looking at an entirely different girl in the mirror. Hardly recognizable! She laughed wildly, running her hands through her now ebony locks.

Spurred on by her new looks she shed her decadent velvet gown and rummaged in her drawer until she found what she had been searching for: A plain grey dress she had lifted from the servant’s laundry ages ago. She slipped in on and then pulled from her drawer a pair of soft grey suede boots and a long black traveling cloak. She went back to the mirror and smiled gleefully at her transformation.

Full of her new wild energy she bounded back to the drawer and pulled out her tiny silver dagger, which she slipped into her boot, all the vials which held tonics, tinctures, and mysterious ointments bought from both reputable and disreputable stalls over many years and a bag of marked stones, the same Gypsy woman had called runes and said would point her in the right direction were she lost. All these she dumped in her least opulent travel bag. She stood, bag in one hand, a long coil of rope in the other, looking for all the world like some mad woman who had just broken into the princess’s room. Suddenly her eyes alighted on the book of fairy stories still lying on top of her coverlet. She grabbed it and tossed it into the bag as well. Still standing next to the bed she tied one end of the rope around one of her four bed posts. She smiled, thanking her ancestors for building most of the furnishings from the same stone as the palace; her bed post was as secure a place as she could wish for. She tied the other end around the handles of her bag and striding briskly over to the window she glanced down to make sure no one was around at the bottom of the palace.

She reached out and dropped her bag straight down. A soft ‘wumph’ sounded as her bag hit the mossy ground three stories down. The princess turned and looked around her room one last time. “Goodbye home – I’m off and I shan’t be returning!” she climbed up onto the ledge and grasping the rope with one hand and steadying herself against the stone wall with the other, she kicked off without a second look back and descended to the ground.

Here ends my segment of our fairytale! Since I got to create her, I leave her naming up to whichever one of you has the next turn – I can’t wait to see what happens next!

'The Great God Pan' and 'The Hill of Dreams'- a book review

I recently finished two short stories by Arthur Machen 'The Great God Pan' and 'The Hill of Dreams'. My overall impression of the works is that while they are original they do not categorize with the traditional fairytale genre. Both tales are set in the English countryside in villages which contain Roman ruins. The stories circulate on this theme of residual Roman beliefs, dark paganism, sexuality, and mystical regeneration in the Welsh nowhere lands.

'The Great God Pan' reads as a horror story and is filled with intrigue and mystery, if however, the execution of the plot was not rather deadpan and lacking in body. The read is not altogether unpleasant but is instead a hallmark of simplicity. The problems with classics is that readers see them as having always existed as highly esteemed works, as if they had sprung fully published and well-received from the author's head. (quotation taken from a wonderful online review of the Dover Thrift 2006 edition of Machen's works-pictured above). Machen was well aware of his own mediocrity as a writer as is proof from his own introduction to the story. Not only does Machen include the incredibly harsh reviews that his work received. One such example comes from the Manchester Guardian which stated that "We are afraid that he only succeeds in being ridiculous. The book is, on the whole, the most acutely and intentionally disagreeable we have yet seen in English. We could say more, but refrain from doing so for fear of giving such a work advertisement." ouch. The author goes on to tell us that he saved every single review his works received (all of them bad) and would look over them with a fondness and memory of things passed and once upon a time dreams.

'The Hill of Dreams' is hauntingly autobiographical. The main character, Lucian, struggles as a novice writer while discovering the caverns of his own inner darkness. Obsession is the fulcrum of the story, balancing Lucian's supposed reality with the counterweight of a believed Avalon. The tale takes on a dreamlike aspect as we follow Lucian's thoughts into a deep and unrecoverable descent.

I do recommend these works to those who are drawn to Victorian-era fairytales. These works are not masterpieces but they contain a seductive charm which emphasizes the era in which they were written. Machen wrote to please himself, 'The Hill of Dreams' however, was born from his attempt at giving the literary public what they wanted and is thus uniquely odd in its origin and construction. Apart from this Machen was concerned only with writing what he saw fit to write. How many writers can say that they have not partially crumbled under the pressure of the public? I believe Machen to be a symbol of inspiration to writers with a voice all their own.