a thousand and one tales

Tale #137: The Snow Daughter, or The Voice Beneath The Snow

The whispers come up from beneath our feet, every step another sigh, every sigh a plea, a cry. But the mistake would be to listen, to stop, to try and find the source. For the voice is a trap, to catch the caring. To steal that final flicker of warmth from your trembling desperate heart, to turn your soul to ice.

Better instead to ignore that snow siren’s cry. Better instead to let your own heart turn to stone.

________

Notes:

1. Written on April 1st, 2019
2. See not only Sirens, obviously, but also the Yuki-onna.

__________

Support An Accumulation Of Things

If you like the things you've read here please consider subscribing to my patreon or my ko-fi.

Patreon subscribers get not just early access to content and also the occasional gift, but also my eternal gratitude. Which I'm not sure is very useful, but is certainly very real.

(Ko-fi contributors probably only get the gratitude I'm afraid, but please get in touch if you want more).

Thank you!

Tale #136: The Bull And His Bride, or The Maid And Her Man (fragment)

“If there’s doubt, say no.”

“How’s saying no going to help, mother? A big bull like that, once his head’s all addled by lust, ain’t no one’s going to stop him.”

“It’s up to him if he won’t hear you. You’ve done your part. Given him fair warning to stop.”

“And then what? Just lie back and let him have his way, safe in the knowledge that at least I protested?”

“Of course not, dearie,” the maid’s mother said. “You’ll gently put your hands around his neck, and with those lacquered nails of yours, slice those throbbing veins of his apart.”

She put down her scissors, and showed her daughter the mirror.

“That’s how I brought your father down to size.”

__________

Notes:

1. Written in February 2019
2. Upon waking from a dream.
2. Although the rest of the story faded quickly away

__________

Support An Accumulation Of Things

If you like the things you've read here please consider subscribing to my patreon or my ko-fi.

Patreon subscribers get not just early access to content and also the occasional gift, but also my eternal gratitude. Which I'm not sure is very useful, but is certainly very real.

(Ko-fi contributors probably only get the gratitude I'm afraid, but please get in touch if you want more).

Thank you!

Tale #135: What Is A Child Worth?

There lived a lord who was so worried by his wife’s failure to produce an heir that he sought out a witch and tried to secure her aid.

The witch said, “The price of my help is that, while any son shall be yours, any daughter shall be mine.”

The Lord agreed, and soon he was the father of twins. The lord looked on in pride as his children were delivered. The boy was the image of the Lord, with black hair, a stern face, and a tendency to turn to tears and tantrums.

The daughter looked exactly like her mother. Skin as dark as night, hair as red as blood, a smile as joyous and free as a bird, and a nature as fierce as any wolf.

The lord soon returned to his duties, and left the child’s care to his wife, for he was a busy man, and had no time for the trifles of domesticity. And while the Lord’s paling wife found love in her heart for them both, she could not find in herself any forgiveness for her husband.

__________

Notes:

1. Written on July 1st, 2019

__________

Support An Accumulation Of Things

If you like the things you've read here please consider subscribing to my patreon or my ko-fi.

Patreon subscribers get not just early access to content and also the occasional gift, but also my eternal gratitude. Which I'm not sure is very useful, but is certainly very real.

(Ko-fi contributors probably only get the gratitude I'm afraid, but please get in touch if you want more).

Thank you!

Tale #134: The Three Wives

There were three wives, who had married three brothers. The priestly wife was jealous of the princess wife, for the princess had a vast castle and abundant riches and the most splendid food cooks could cook, and did not need to worry about the strictures of poverty that held her in place like shackles.

The princess wife was jealous of the priestly wife, for the priestly wife had no politics to preside over, nor no courtly judgements to make, nor any of the other responsibilities that held her in place like shackles.

The dead wife was jealous of no one, for she was a corpse, and free.

__________

Notes:

1. Written May 15th, 2016
2. At the same time as last week’s tale
3. To which this is a sequel
4. Of sorts
5. And the same apologies and excuses apply here as they did there

__________

Support An Accumulation Of Things

If you like the things you've read here please consider subscribing to my patreon or my ko-fi.

Patreon subscribers get not just early access to content and also the occasional gift, but also my eternal gratitude. Which I'm not sure is very useful, but is certainly very real.

(Ko-fi contributors probably only get the gratitude I'm afraid, but please get in touch if you want more).

Thank you!

Tale #133: The Three Sons

A lord had three sons. One day, when they were fully grown, he took them to the top of the tallest tower of the castle and made them fire an arrow over the parapet and into the town. And wheresoever the arrow fell, there his son would find his wife.

The first son, the lord’s favourite, and upon whom the lord had lavished his entire life’s fortune and love, fired his arrow and his strength was such that the arrow flew out beyond the town to the castle of the neighbouring kingdom. It flew through the window and struck the headboard of the bed where the king’s fairest daughter was sleeping. And so the lordling and the princess were married that very afternoon.

The next day, the second son, about whom the lord was largely indifferent, fired his arrow, and his strength, though not as great as his elder brother’s, was still such that the arrow flew out over the town towards the church, where it struck the gate of the vicarage. The bishop’s only daughter was cleaning in the yard, and so the second son and the bishop’s daughter were married that very afternoon.

On the third day, the youngest son, who the king despised, fired his arrow. After years of abuse and neglect, the young man was so weak and useless that the arrow tumbled straight down into the market place below, where it struck a travelling merchant in the throat and killed her instantly. And so the third son and the corpse were married that very afternoon.

__________

Notes:

1. Written on the 18th May, 2016
2. So I’m not sure why it’s taken me so long to include it here.
3. Perhaps cause it was a bit too bleak and cynical
4. Even for me.
5. (And the same applies for next week’s one, too)

__________

Support An Accumulation Of Things

If you like the things you've read here please consider subscribing to my patreon or my ko-fi.

Patreon subscribers get not just early access to content and also the occasional gift, but also my eternal gratitude. Which I'm not sure is very useful, but is certainly very real.

(Ko-fi contributors probably only get the gratitude I'm afraid, but please get in touch if you want more).

Thank you!