Can you imagine

A young girl on a farm, about seventeen years old. Beautiful and full of life. Long gilded locks, shinning eyes the color of a deep spring. Skin so smooth and perfect that it looks as though the angels themselves crafted every inch. Her name was Beatrice, the daughter of a wealthy farmer in the Scottish countryside.

And could you imagine,

Every man in the village, pining for her day and night. Offering gifts, great deeds, land and more just for a lick of her attention. Though she keeps them at arms length while teasing them with midnight dances under the stars. Beatrice grew tired of the gifts and the gawking. It was constant and tiring. She wanted rid of them.

She hated it.

One day while walking the market with some other girls from the village she heard a rumor the witch in the north woods. Could grant any wish they say. Only cost a copper. Beatrice was intrigued by the rumor of the witch. She believed her problems could be solved.

So, In the dead of night.

She snuck into her fathers office and stole a single copper. She took her coin and headed into the woods north of town. Wrapped in darkness she walked. She walked for a long while. Long enough for the sun to rise and warm her face. She had lost hope. The rumor was fake. She decided to turn back but when doing so she saw a small hut. It hadn’t been here the moment before.

Right?

She trudged up to the door and knocked. When no answer came she knocked again and on this time the door opened. Inside was a dusty stone flood and a fire pit of dying embers. Nobody was seen inside. She took a step into the hut, the floor then fell out from beneath her. She was so startled the air was sucked from her lungs denying her a scream as she fell.

She landed.

Not on a pile of soft hay or woolen blankets. But on a pile of thorns and sticks. She lay motionless and limp. No more problems of men, no more of the village. Her wish was granted.

Back at the village.

Nobody could recall who was missing at events or at the market. The men focused on other women and the family once belonging to Beatrice lived without grief. Beatrice, was gone.

And could you imagine,

That at the edge of the village they say, a blonde dancing girl at the dead of night wails at the north woods.