The Tale of Altrudie
Deep in the delta, the south of the world,
They tell all their children this tale.
Of the night young Altrudie came running
When the moon waxed above, high and pale.
Now Altrudie did not lack for suitors,
And she’d lingered too long with one man.
For she knew the old rule that that they spoke in the marsh:
“Come home in the day, while you can.”
So the foolish lad gave her a candle.
A foot long it was, and bone-white.
“Remind you of anything else long and hard?”
And the girl, being kind, said “That’s right.”
Now the paths through the marshes are tricksy at best
With the safe route oft hid from the eye.
For each life it claims there’s a flickering flame
To lead weary travellers aside.
The will o’ the wisps Altrudie did spot
With her own steady flame in her hand.
The wax melting fast, the wick burning through,
As she picked her way over the land.
The flames whispered soft in the words of the dead,
“Come child toss your candle aside.”
The wax melting fast, the wick burning through,
Else she’d drown in the deep marshes wide.
Frightened, Altrudie broke into a run
And the mud slipped and splashed neath her feet.
The wax melting fast, the wick burning through,
And a soft hiss of fear through her teeth.
The flames of the dead watched the girl flee
And blazed in their vicious delight.
The wax melting fast, the wick burning through,
Inch by inch, she was losing the light.
Altrudie, she finally panicked
And bolted along as though blind
The wax melting fast, the wick burning through,
For the true path she’d never more find.
Her swains found the candle much later,
A grave marker, though without her name.
The wax melting fast, the wick burning through,
And above it, a new flick’ring flame.
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