-from The Book of Yelps and Growls

Once upon a time there was a red castle on an island in the middle of the ocean. In the castle lived a sour man who liked to call himself The Negation of Everything.
He wore long pants with stripes and kept his fingernails short. He had a passion for chess and dead art. With these two interests he passed the time while he waited for his seven wives to awaken. They had been sleeping for seven years.
This he attributed to woman's laziness.

The Negation of Everything had a stout old servant named Gelda. In the evenings when she brought him his dinner he would sometimes try to seize her and kiss her, but she would push him away saying "Ach! You are as sour as old milk! Don't touch me." Then he would glower at her with hunched shoulders and imagine her suffering evils. But Gelda did not care because she was like an old horse with thick hooves.

One night a man came to the door of the castle. He was a pilgrim and was looking for suffering. Unfortunately, he was unlucky, and could not get what he wanted.
He knocked - Clang! And thunder-echo! - on the great wooden door.
"Gelda! Open the door!" cried The Negation of Everything, pointing his finger.

--(Untranslateable section including several colloquialisms and one proverb concerning ideas specific to the culture in which the story originated.)--

The next day The Negation of Everything took the pilgrim arm-in-arm to show him the Garden of Dead Sculptures. It was here that the pilgrim's bad luck left him, for he fell in love with a dead statue and found his suffering. She was cold and beautiful and dead-weight marble, and when he tried to steal her later that night (for of course he had to have her) she fell upon him and broke his head. In the morning Gelda found him and her screams woke the seven sleeping wives of The Negation of Everything. They flew out of the castle window and into the trees and the unhealthiness of their arguments brought pestilence upon the island.

walk outside and skin alive

Tighened ropes around her ankles , they were ready. security of the pole held against her pull away . Her mind never giving in to the resignation of what was to happen . She knew them . One of them was sure to look into her eyes yelling "STOP!" , but her audience was silenced, afraid of that they too would be branded to burn .

Hoping against hope that they would have understood their absurdity , her lips were moving in a silent prayer.

They had told her that man was nowhere to be found, he'd taken off for the hills , disgraced . His family angry and distraught that he might not ever return , captured by the savages.

"Burn Burn the Witch"

Two years earlier, looking out of the doorway of the cabin , her day and night's abode of toil, at the progress of her processes from the yeast to bake the bread, the animal fat soap , the brewing of beer , growing a garden , cooking , laundry , weaving cloth , sewing clothes and mending , wool blocking , spinning , quilting , the care of her younger siblings , keeping chickens , and making candles to burn to see it all with.

That was the magic she did.

Menfolk would go off hunting . Trails to discover and camp . The whole land open to exploration with their dogs chasing after the game.

He taught her to read , sharing with her stories of exploration trips . In a year or two before they knew it , they'ld be married and living in dreams of their wild country.

Washing residue of the days work off in the nearby stream, the soap making irritated her skin and made her hands red swollen and sore. A dog and man came up over the rise of the steep enbankment . He'd never had seen her in the forest light of his travels now returning reluctantly home to marry and settle down. Working herself to death on her parents homestead , she lived only to hear his tales of travels that brought the light to her eyes.

The excited entourage of his dogs barking out to exclaim an encounter was silenced by his loud whistle.

..............

He walked up to her, she waited. speechless for words and having to touch, he took her hands turning them over looking at them. With the light of an idea he looked into her eyes , grabbed his hands tight around her waist, and literally swooped her up to the sky her laughter dropping with her down to be his audience sitting as he moved about stick in hand, drawing her maps and recanting in detail an account of his journey and discoveries he'd made .

A quick touch of his lips to her hair, he pressed an indian amulet into her hand, and with the dogs crunching through the woods around him , a plan to work out , every bone in his body telling him he shouldn't be trusting to fate and taking her with him.

Her eyes blinked back tears, she hadn't had a chance to tell him that she needed him and his being away was an ache more raw than any pain of her flesh or her death , opening her hand, she studied the odd amulet as she walked .

.........................

.........................

"hey, I'll trade you this mule of furs... and my indian guides will let you keep your scalps "

Silhouetted against the cold gray sky, the towns fear of the approaching winter on the horizon; the furs were needed , and keeping peace with the indians

...the church elders swinted their eyes trying to focus, their control over the congregation was being called into question .

" Did you plan on marrying her ?"

The towns people were already running their fingers over the furs , the question lost in the present tense as a negotiating point .

"Nah, I can start a new settlement trading them to the next shipload of fools that lands up the shore . Untie her " now" and keep your hands off of my furs.

.

She looked at him like it was his fault they were trying to burn her.

.

The amulet he had given her, made out of bone, to their eyes was a Saint's relic the devil had sent to chase their souls, a reminders from the old world's days of destruction and persecution. It had shaken their faith in a time when they were vulnerable with fears .

.

Unsheathing his bone handled hunting knife he slashed at the last rope.

.

"You're not going to burn her... today" .