Guest Post – Bronwen Logan
At the bottom of the mountain in the valley, where looking up you could imagine the giants of the world had built a garden wall, three sisters walk. They move dangerously close to the borders of their tribe. But here, amongst the dense wetlands are mushrooms to die for. In a line they step, elder sister, middle sister, younger sister, collecting fruits and nibbles along the path.
There is a noise and as elder sister turns she is clobbered by a branch with a large nobbly head. She falls, unconscious. Middle sister watches, terrified into paralysis as younger sister is dragged by her long, curly hair, a full handful of it, down a track and away.
Middle sister spits upon her sister’s face, slapping and crying, snot dribbling. The fear, finally touches inside elder sister, telling her to wake, to see what has become of her youngest charge.
The girls go to father, fast, yet he turns his back on their badness. They went where they shouldn’t and now younger sister is lost to them.