"M. Rickert - Cold Fires" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rickert Mary)

witch and which, the bewitched.

"About this time, in the midst of a hushed ongoing debate amongst the villagers regarding when to best
proceed with the witch burning (after the baby, whose lineage was uncertain, had been weaned seemed
the general consensus) Great-great-Grandfather returned and brought with him a shipload of
strawberries. The heavy scent drove the dogs wild. Great-great-Grandfather drove the villagers mad with
strawberries and then, when the absolute height of their passion had been aroused, stopped giving them
away and charged gold for them, a plan that was whispered in his ears by the two wives while he held his
baby who sucked on strawberries the way other babies sucked on tits.

"In this way, Great-great-Grandfather grew quite rich and built a castle shaped like a ship covered in
strawberry vines and with a room at the back, away from the sea, which was made entirely of glass and
housed strawberries all year. He lived there with the two wives and the baby daughter and nobody is
certain who is whose mother in our family line.

"Of course she did not stay but left one night, too cruel and heartless to even offer an explanation.
Great-great-Grandfather shouted her name for hours as if she was simply lost until, at last, he collapsed in
the strawberry room, crushing the fruit with his large body and rolling in the juice until he was quite red
with it and frightening as a wounded animal. His first wife found him there and steered him to a hot bath.
They learned to live together again without the strawberry maid. Strangers who didn't know their story
often commented on the love between them. The villagers insisted they were both bewitched, the lit
candles in the window to guide her return given as evidence. Of course she never did come back."

Outside in the cold night, even the Moon was frozen. It shed a white light of ice over their pale yard and
cast a ghost glow into the living room that haunted her face. He studied her as if she were someone new
in his life and not the woman he'd known for seven years. Something about that moonglow combined
with the firelight made her look strange, like a statue at a revolt.

She smiled down at him and cocked her head. ├втВм┼УI tell you this story,├втВмтАв she said, ├втВм┼Уto explain if
ever you should wake and find me gone, it is not an expression of lack of affection for you, but rather,
her witchy blood that is to be blamed."

"What became of her?"

"Oh, no one knows. Some say she had a lover, a pirate from a nearby cove, and they left together, sailing
the seas for strawberries. Some say she was an enchanted mermaid and returned to the sea. Some say
she came to America and was burned at the stake."

"Which do you think is true?"

She leaned back and sighed, closing her eyes. ├втВм┼УI think she's still alive,├втВмтАв she whispered,
├втВм┼Уbreaking men's hearts, because she is insatiable."

He studied her in repose, a toppled statue while everything burned.

"Now it's your turn,├втВмтАв she said, not opening her eyes, and sounding strangely distant. Was that a tear at
the corner of her eye? He turned away from her. He cleared his throat.

"All right then. For a while I had a job in Castor, near Rhome, in a small art museum there. I was not the
most qualified for the work but apparently I was the most qualified who was willing to live in Castor,