The Headless Maiden: A Little Witch Tale
“With the Harvest Moon as their dance floor, Ariadne and Dionysus danced...””
Once upon a Harvest Moon, the miller made a wish…
“Make me a rich man,” he begged, eyes to the stars, “with more jewels in my home than wheat in my fields.”
The man's soul ached even more than his bones. He was tired of working the family millstone. So on that night, the miller petitioned the old gods. When Dionysus responded, pleasure seeker that he was, the man was relieved. The god agreed to shower the miller in gold and silver so long as he agreed to one thing:
“Give me what sits behind the millstone,” he said. “If you do that, all the riches will be yours.”
Without hesitation, the miller nodded. The moon was high in the night sky, and the man assumed only a few moldy bushels lay near the stone. The god and the miller exchanged trinkets, binding themselves to their word. Dionysus gave the man a handful of pumpkin seeds, and the miller offered the god a knife chiseled from the family millstone.
“It’s much sharper than it looks,” he promised.
With the terms set, Dionysus danced off into the darkness. The miller walked home, where his wife called out from the porch.
“We’re rich, we’re rich!” she yelled when she saw her husband. “Gold coins frame our windows, and diamonds are raining down from the rafters! Quick, go get Ariadne! She’s at the millhouse, sweeping the leftover wheat from today’s harvest.”
“This is too predictable,” Little Witch interrupted from the sunny spot near the window. She decided Mother's new story would have to wait, she had questions!
“This is too predictable,” Little Witch interrupted from the sunny spot near the window. She decided Mother’s new story would have to wait; she had questions!
Persephone purred and wrapped her tail around the girl’s feet. “I was about to ask the same thing!” She booped her familiar’s velvet nose.
Mother raised an eyebrow at Little Witch, who rushed on, “It’s the job of the beta audience to give feedback.” She gestured to the coven of creatures and fairies in the room. “And I already know what happens next.”
“Pish posh you do!” Madam Spider slid down from a silken strand and into Little Witch’s waiting palm. “This is a brand-new story! Your mother wrote the last line this morning!”
“That is true,” said Mother. “But this is a story inspired by my love of fairy tales and old myths. I mashed them together in my cauldron,” she tapped her head, “and came up with a new potion.”
At the mention of ‘potion,’ something sparked in Little Witch’s eyes and she turned to her grimoire. She made a note under the section titled, “Words are Spells.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so earlier?” Little Witch said, switching out her purple pen for one the color of fire. “As your editor, I need to know these things.”
From the corner of Little Witch’s eye, Madam Spider tapped her specter impatiently. "Are you finished with the interrogation? She asked. “Because this next chapter is important!”
TO BE CONTINUED…
