Archive for creepy

The Widow and the Blacksmith with the heart torn out

Posted in Short fiction stories with tags , , , , , , on 30/12/2011 by Cindy Vaskova

Flash fiction story this Friday .. and last for this year!  Before that- Happy New Year celebration! Got your resolutions ready? Don’t forget to make a wish! Cheers x and see you next year :-)

Now back to the story. Never written a thing like it, and I dearly hope it worked out well & good enough for you to like. I dare say its a fairy tale of sorts, or a folk tale. Could be both. Well fantasy it is ! Might spot a few rhymes, no real intention to make ones. I’m rubbish at those :-D   Too much babbling from me :) Do enjoy your stay and your read :)  Here begins a story about….

 The Widow and the Blacksmith with the heart torn out 

Somewhere in the East there was a stream

One born of magic and of wisdom

with waters flowing with pure gold

Time passed and a group of people settled down near by it, but alas they never knew about it

Until one day the blacksmith’s wife was picking herbs and flowers

deep into the great dark woods

And then there was the sound of flowing stream

its ringing sound caught up with her

She stood up with a wonder

What sound is that, what river flows?

She felt she must go see

for curiosity was strong with her

So she followed down the sound

More deep into the woods

What she found made her froze

Made her shiver, breathless for unspoken words

for the stream was glimmering in gold

She then decided

to kept it silent, and rushed home right away

She told her husband only

what wealth the forest hid

He took the blazing sword he forged

and ran into the woods

with his eyes to see

The waters of the stream were gold, the magic true as well

But wisdom was the one thing that the blacksmith cared for less

He put his sword away

kneeling down to touch

the golden waters of the stream

And what he did not see

were the sacred beasts

who roamed to forest

the guardians of magic

the protectors of the stream

He heard a grow, and took his sword

turned around and faced a roar

teeth went deep, flesh turned red

the blacksmith fell down dead

with his heart in three feet to the left

*  *  *

His wife went worried

Much time had passed

and

Night had fallen

She ran in to the forest too

went straight down to the stream

The water was still gleaming

reflecting on a stone cold face

She found her husband dead,

she found his heart apart

The silence was then broken

by a misty choir of ancient voices

-       We the beasts of this forest speak now to you. Human you were greedy, wanted magic for yourself. Woman you went silent didn’t share the wealth. Your husband had no wisdom, we took his heart away. You should have told the people, the ones that live with you. You should have shared the secret of this stream, for it was made for all of you. You will feel our punishment, our curse upon you. Your husband’s dead, now what will you do?

The woman felt ashamed

she felt the wrong

and started crying

Her tears fell down on the bleeding heart

With heart as heavy as a stone

she then stood up, and took her husband’s sword

Raised it high and struck herself

straight into the chest

-          Pity, woman for you lack wisdom too. Look with your dying eyes; this torn heart beats for two. Now you die, while your husband lives; you paid a price, and he did too. Alas there is more for you to do. Your souls will echo, stay forever here, until you find out the secret of how to save each other.  Vice versa may it be. For your punishment for greed was never death- it was living with this unknowing and regret.  You will not remember how each time you die. You must feel it in your heart and do the right. Farewell for now, oh mortal ones, farewell to your sin until the dawn.

*  *  *

Years had passed. Centuries if must. People found the stream, found the gold laying there on its bottom. They lived happy, lived blessed and the small town soon progressed. But every time they went to pay respects to the sacred beasts who led them to the stream, they felt a presence, one that seemed to linger, and seemed not to go away -the one of the Widow and the Blacksmith with the heart torn out heart.

Fairy tale gone bad perhaps :-D

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