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Subject:
From:
Margaret Merchant <[log in to unmask]>
Date:
Wed, 29 Mar 2006 07:45:35 -0600
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There is a legend of an old crone whose magical ability was known far and
wide.  And even though she was quite wise and could easily tell when she
was being misled, she sometimes saw good in the person and would try to
bring it out.  One day a gorgeous young man came to her encampment and
professed a willingness to be her servant and student.  Although with her
special sight, the crone knew the man for the thief he was, she also saw
a shining light in him.  She welcomed him into her camp and made him her
student.
 
After but a few days, the man could not stand the waiting and in his
impatience and mistrust, he decided the old woman was just using him.  He
did know of a powerful amulet of hers that would protect the bearer from
any physical harm.  The amulet was a small length of bone and he decided
to replace it with a found bone, trying to fool the old crone.  His
treachery done, he crept away in the middle of the night.
 
Now, the crone knew instantly what he had done.  But because the thief
was bearing the amulet, she also knew she could bring no physical harm to
him.  She spoke to the spirits of her animal familiars of times past and
asked a great favor of them.
 
That night the thief was visited, in his dreams, by war dancing weasels,
who danced on his belly causing great pain and discomfort in his bowels.
The nightly visions where so real they caused the thief great anxiety and
upset, even if they could cause no real physical harm.  But every night
he would cramp and bellow in extreme pain from the prancing on his guts,
giving him foul air for his dreams.  Every morning he would awake fine,
but without true rest.  After a fortnight, he stole back into the old
crone's camp and replaced her amulet and has never been heard from again.
 
The moral to this story is never give an old crone your bacula else you
get it in the end.
 
_____________________
 
This is a reprint of an old story of mine.  I am working on some new
installments, so I thought I would start it all off with this one.
 
Blessings,
Margie
[Posted in FML issue 5197]

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