The Witch of the North Star
Every day is a new day. That is how most people see them.
Every day is a boring day. That is how few people see them.
Young Timothy of Summerset Valley is one such person of few. He’d wake up in the morning with the same tired expression and go about his days in household chores and quiet naps under the willow tree.
His father long gone and his mother with a weak back can only rest and amuse oneself with simple hobbies as reading, sowing and such.
Poor young Timothy works to keep the house in order and a meal for three times during the day. He first opens windows and drags the dust away. Then after a simple breakfast for his darling mother off to work he goes. Mopping floors and cleaning dishes and linens is how his morning passes, and after lunch his real work begins.
He works for those wealthier than himself for money to buy food and the like. And most afternoons he works; mopping floors, cleaning dishes and linens and dragging dust away from homes.
Tired he feels and takes a nap later under the willow tree. The tree itself is large and many dozens of branches are submerged a bit in the small shallow river at which it bends forward to. For others the willow tree is sad and wishes to drown itself in the river. However, for Timothy it is actually bored and it being so old and big it can only spend it’s time with his finger like branches playing with the water.
When he wakes he hurries home to make the third meal of the day for his mother and himself.
Unlike most young children his age he hasn’t got any dreams, really he never wanted anything in life. He never wanted to be a farmer and have his own barn. Nor a gardener and grow a big garden. Nor a scholar and learn all about the world. Nor a healer and learn about all the diseases. Nor a knight and slay dragons and rescue princess. Nor a sorcerer, but he really doesn’t possess the gift; nothing really.
But when his eyes lay on his mother a small wish as lovely as a dream slips in his mind. And that dream like wish is for his mother to have a better back side. He wants to spend more days under the willow in peace for a much longer time and to spend more money for himself on sweets and other delicious treats. He loved his mother. However a glutton like want and sloth filled days seem to want to take over. But until his mothers passing, which he dreads, shall not come yet.
Next morning came quickly once again and his morning routines began as the usually do, up until he left the house.
Overnight the town began preparations for its one and only festival ‘The shine of the North Star’.
On this day the most beautiful sunset in the land comes only on the longest day and with it the North Star shines through.
Most days the star shines bright at usual sunsets, but today its shine is so bright and beautiful it captures all dwellers on this land and sea and air in awe.
Many myths portraying the star were brought forth since long ago and only one was mentioned the most, and still is as far as Timothy can remember. And now as he walks through the lavishing decoration know as his hometown it spoken by all the children his age.
Blue flags with a white star on them hang all over buildings and thousands of flowers adorn them as well. Everything was cleaned all the town folks wore their very best and were their very best. Long tables and chairs are placed about here and there, as the people feast on every cook’s best specialties. Performers enchant the crowds that are formed all around them; there were jugglers, clowns, magicians, musicians and singers of every kind. And plenty of wealthy foreigners from all around gathered here to enjoy in the festivities.
They were nice and all, but there was only one performer he really liked and hurried along to find him. Pushing through people he finally reached him with much difficulty seeing as he was the best one there was. It time for the bards tale to begin and as the occasion called for it he told the poem of the most famous myth ‘The witch of the North Star’.
Gather about all of ye! Gather about!
On this night a gift is given and received for and from ones heart.
And the one who blesses and curses,
Shall arrive!
A fair maiden she be and she shine like a star,
Through your flesh your soul she sees.
Through your eyes your wishes she sees.
Through your heart your desires she sees.
And grants them she does but one and for one.
Who shall it be! Oh! Who shall it be!
Her hair like the sunset and skin like the star,
Her garments like the soft pinks and purples’
And her eyes … like the night
Shall deceive you on this dusk
And her small smile that hides terror like no other
Shall trap you forever!
Beware! Beware! Beware!
For all that you want and desire shall destroy your foundations of life!
And with that the poem the bard sang was over and the crowd cheered; but young Timothy left before it was over, For time flew by like a bird and it was time for the third meal of the day.
After their simple dinner and questions’ which his mother asked about the festivities whose he answered short and simple he retired for the day under the willow tree.
But his rest was interrupted and his eyes opened and he was awed. The enchanted sunset had come.
The sky, like a mirage of all colours looked more hand painted than real as the sun displayed them all with its powerful rays. And up high Timothy looked and there was the North Star. Whiter than snow and brighter than the moon, it’s was the same length as that of seven stars. Even the land was gently touched by all the colours and soon the sun set and the star would remain for only a short time.
It was very dark then and the people still celebrated, all but Timothy who was caught by the stars rays. A bit too bright even for him as his hand shot out to cover his vision slightly. Timothy sat there with his hand up high and before his face and his mind wondered, soon his gaze changed as his eyes went cloudy in thought and his face relaxed. His eye lids lowered by a bit as he thought of the life he spent so far, and his mother entered his train of thought.
He was so lost he did not notice the figure before him approach him. By the time he noticed its presence the figure was already before him. His eyes focused and confusion covered his face. A dress made of materials he never knew of pinks and purples was what he saw first, as a memory struggled to be presented could not get out. Second were slightly curled long golden locks, and the memory came again stronger and hurt his head a bit. Third was the impossibly pale hand that steadily approached his still stretched one, and this time he felt bigger pain from the memory and winced a bit. Finally he saw the eyes of her and realization came to him as the memory came through.
And as his eyes widened with fear and a faint deadly smile stretched across her face… her hand held his.
A flash of white was all he saw before he woke. Timothy sprang up and looked around to see that he was still under the willow tree. Only to realize it was day time again and breakfast needed to be prepared.
He ran home sure that all that happened was a dream.
He stopped before his home and thought of the bard’s song, but it couldn’t be true he thought. Why would he be chosen? He laughed a bit and scratched his forehead a bit and stopped suddenly just as he began. He moved his hand before his face and saw a star shaped mark on his palm.
He stared and thought over but couldn’t come up with an explanation. Witches did exist didn’t they?
Confused and scared he entered his home and was greeted with an even bigger shock when he saw his mother smiling softly and standing next to the table with breakfast, standing.
He was so overjoyed that he forgot all about the mark and the witch as he embraced his mother in a tightly.
Today was not a boring day.
And the next days to come he enjoyed them leisurely under the willow tree always stuffed with sweets and other treats, never having to work. He let his mother work and work as he played and spend all the money she worked for.
He couldn’t be happier and never once paid any mind to the mark, for day by day it slowly disappeared.
For you see not all of witch’s and sorcerer’s is absolute.
And he spend months happily and greedily until the mark finally disappeared and he came home again.
And found his mother on the floor as still as stone.
And Timothy as well turned to stone and barely noticed the tears pouring down.
He grieved and grieved and cursed the witch as he held his mothers head in his arms tightly. Why kill her? Oh! Why kill her? He screamed with all his might, all he wanted was his mother well and … he froze in thought.
It wasn’t the witch who killed her but the greed in him.
It wasn’t the witch who killed her but the glutton in him.
It wasn’t the witch who killed her but the sloth in him.
It wasn’t the witch who killed her but the demon in him.
It was the witch who killed her for granting the demons desire.
And now he shall spend his life in waste of constant work to make amends with his mother for abusing her for his desire. And every festival he shall spend cursing the witch and spoiling all the fun for others on that day, but when the star shines he hides in fear away from the light for all his life that’s left.
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