Nettlewooz Vol. 1. Stefan Seitz

      Prolog

      This is what it said on the final pages of a little yellowed book:

      In days gone by, so long ago,

      The forest lay there deep and dark.

      What happened then we do not know.

      A secret that has left its mark.

      A Crescent Moon, so slim and bright,

      Cast its glow on the dark night.

       The valley, too, and all the hills

       Bathed in silver. And the rills

      Gleamed and twinkled, flashed and shone.

      The forest dark, it slumbered on.

       But what was this? So suddenly

       Tree and flower, land and sea

       Fell silent. From the forest floor

       Arose a mist and then before

      They knew it, all the grass turned pale.

      The mist, it then became a veil.

       Those years ago, on that dark night

       In the clear glow of the starlight

       A white dress from the mist arose

       And then some hair, and then a nose:

       A fairy bright, who must have been

      More beautiful than any seen.

       Through tears, the wispy fairy fine

      Saw the light of the moon shine.

       She loved this moon, though it was fain

       To give her always naught but pain

      Of every sort. How hot it burned,

      And still her face she to it turned.

       Full moons, they caused her so much pain –

       She only danced when it was plain

       That nought would be there that night present

      Except the slender little crescent.

       And so she dancéd in its light

      And never thought of taking flight.

      But in the darkness, hiding there,

       A stranger watched her. O beware!

       The south wind cried. Alas, alack!

       The fairy never lookéd back

      To see the man with dev’lish frown.

      Sheer evil with an icy crown.

       The dawn broke then, and the dark night

      Turned into a morn so bright.

       The veil of mist vanished anew

      And landed on the grass as dew.

       Soft and distant came the sound

      Of sobbing, deep and so profound.

       The next night fell – but o, so strange!

       New Moon was due – but what a change!

       The crescent’s rays felt very cold;

      They shone into the forest old.

      The fairy dancéd, full of glee,

       “The rays – they are not hurting me!”

       The south wind cried: “Look out! Now run!”

       The fairy turned – but it was done

      Too late. A clap of thunder filled the land.

       An evil laugh. An icy hand

      Took her away. She knew not where.

      And there was no more fairy fair.

      But then came one almighty crash.

       The moon fell down and it did smash

       The earth in two. The thunder roared;

       The lightning flashed. With one accord

      The tall trees rocked and swayed and fell.

      The forest croaked its own death knell.

       And hail and snow as ne’er before

      Smote the land so very poor.

      The crown it fell, and darkness, too.

      An Ice Age dawned. And then anew,

      From years of frozen sadness felt,

      The ice and snow began to melt.

       The years they passéd by the horde

      Until the land could be restored.

       But ne’er again was there a sight

      Of fairy fair by pale moonlight.

       And not even the wind doth know