December 4, 2011

Once upon a time, and a very fine time it was, there lived at the edge of a forest in a faraway land a wealthy woodcutter and his two daughters. The sisters were twins, one comely, the other goly. They ran a boutique doublet shoppe next to the sawmill and were quite content. The comely twin sat all day, sewing and singing happily. The goly twin went out and about to fetch the finest wool from local and not so local shepherds. Sometimes princes stopped by in snow-white coaches pulled by six gold horses to ask the comely sister to wed.

“I’ll only wed when the moon is dead, and a dragon files my teeth,” the comely sister would say.

“All righty then,” princes would reply, backing away and going off to find a maiden somewhat less insane to marry.

This went on for years until the comely sister was a cackling crone and the goly sister had built herself a mud hole to live in next to a lake. A long time passed, and the sisters were buried, both of them having previously died. From the comely sister’s grave grew a hedge which cackled when the wind blew. From the goly sister’s filled in mud hole of a grave grew a shrieking hedge. And to this day, if you stand on a spot halfway between the cackle and the shriek, your feet will get wet. You’ll be standing in a creek.

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