The Night the Girl Howled
The night revealed no moon. The rustle of the wind blew through the tall boughs of trees that hid the stars. And down on the ground a girl sat waiting for the world to right itself. For that was what she did every night, since the day she had been chained to the thickest trunk of the tallest tree in the forest. She was in tune to the earth’s turning, and it was what kept the monotony of her imprisonment at bay. By keeping tap to the rotating rhythm, she could wait for day, when her chains would melt, and she was free to do as she wished, until once again, night would fall, and she would come, bidden by some unknown spell, and let the chains wrap around her wrists. How came she to be chained, she knew not, but concocted a story of some loving parents who, for want of a fire in their hearth, had felled a young tree to the great forest’s displeasure. She repeated this story to herself night after night, until she almost believed that it was true. The truth, h