Hi all.
It's that time again, where we gather around our virtual campfire, under a starry digital sky, to share a story. Tonight, I have a tale that weaves threads of mystery, cunning, and courage.
The warlock:
Once upon a time, in a village shrouded in whispers and secrets, there lived a peasant. He was no ordinary man, for the villagers whispered that he possessed powers beyond mortal understanding. Some even dared to call him a warlock.
As time caught up with the old peasant, he knew his days were numbered. But before he left this world, he devised a peculiar plan for his sons and their wives. He demanded that after his passing, his daughters-in-law would keep vigil over him for three nights, one night each. His body was to rest in the outer chamber, and they were tasked with spinning wool to create a robe for him. There was one unusual condition: no cross was to touch his body, and none should be worn by his daughters-in-law.
On the fateful night of his passing, the eldest daughter-in-law took her place beside him with her spindle and gray wool. Midnight rang out, and a heavy silence draped the room. Unexpectedly, the coffin whispered with a voice that chilled her to the bone.
"Daughter-in-law, art thou there?" The voice croaked.
With a trembling voice, she replied, "I am."
"Art thou sitting?" The voice continued its haunting inquiry.
"I sit."
"Dost thou spin?"
"I spin."
"Grey wool?"
"Grey."
"For a robe?"
"For a robe."
With each response, the voice in the coffin drew closer. She attempted to back away to the corner's refuge, but time wasn't on her side. Within seconds, his grip tightened around her neck, leaving her motionless.
The next evening, the second daughter-in-law assumed her watch. She too met the same fate, strangled by the unseen hand of her father-in-law.
But the third daughter-in-law was clever and courageous. She secretly kept her cross, despite her father-in-law's decree. As she spun her grey wool and recited prayers to herself, the room was again shrouded in midnight's darkness. The voice emerged once more, asking the familiar questions.
With each query, she answered honestly, and as the voice threatened to draw near, she placed her cross upon the coffin. In that moment, her father-in-law fell lifeless, vanquished by the power of her faith.
She looked into the coffin and discovered it filled with riches beyond imagination. The old man had intended to take it with him, or perhaps leave it only to someone who could outwit him in cunning.
Meaning:
The moral of this story can be interpreted as a cautionary tale about the consequences of deceit and treachery. The old man, who is considered a warlock by the village, attempts to manipulate his daughters-in-law into giving him their wealth after his death. He sets a cunning trap, instructing them to keep vigil over his body for three nights and forbidding the use of crosses.
The first two daughters-in-law fall victim to his scheme, as they comply with his orders and are strangled when they least expect it. However, the third daughter-in-law, through her cleverness and resourcefulness, prevails. She secretly keeps her cross and uses it to protect herself from the treacherous old man, ultimately outsmarting him.
The story underscores the idea that deceitful intentions and actions can lead to one's downfall. In contrast, honesty, resourcefulness, and the ability to see through deception are qualities that can lead to success and triumph over adversity. It serves as a reminder that cunning and manipulation may work temporarily but are ultimately defeated by wisdom and righteousness.
Conclussion:
As we conclude our story by the virtual campfire tonight, I want to thank each of you for joining me once again. It's in these moments, as we share stories and reflections, that we come closer to understanding the intricate tapestry of human existence. So, until next time, keep the fire of curiosity burning bright within you. Goodnight and sweet dreams.
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