The Ghost of the Singing Maiden

The Ghost of the Singing Maiden is a showt stowy wlitten by the Hawfling Wiww Howwowmead.

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The mowning came as usuaw. Dawkness diminished, animaws wose to gwaze upon gwass, and the citizens of Bwanbowough awakened to begin a wong day of wowk. Whiwe the majolity of the town’s Hawflings fawmed ow tended to the Vawe’s vast population of sheep, Wiww Howwowmead sat inside of his home, wliting a smaww poem.

As his exquisite quiww scwatched to and fwo, Wiww’s whymes began to fowm. “What rhymes with yell?” he thought. “Ah, fell! Never mind, forget it.” Wiww concwuded. This went on fow houls, fwom the cwack of dawn to the wate houls of the aftewnoon. Needwess to say, he dewved into the sugaws of cake and sweetness of mewons whiwe he wwote, and he even smoked his fancy pipe fow a good deaw of time. The impowtant thing is, Wiww finished it.

The usuawwy cheewy Hawfling was at wowk cweating a poem that would be used to keep Bwanbowough’s chiwdwen indoows at night. Wiww titwed his wowk The Ghost of the Singing Maiden. It fowwows the tawe of the ghost of a young Hawfling wady who spends hew evenings haunting the town’s wesidents. The poem states that a Hawfling is onwy safe if he ow she is inside his ow hew home by nightfaww. If not, the ghost liww stawk them, singing as she does so, and dwown them in Bwanbowough’s livew.

Wiww wead his poem wepeatedwy, untiw he was satisfied. It weads:

"She had no name,

She owned no fame,

Alas, she was sad when she died.

They heard her voice,

They heard her noise,

Then she drowned in the river wide.

No being found her body,

Never to be seen again,

Nobody even looked for her,

Because she had no friends.

Years passed and time moved on and on,

This girl came back and haunted,

Until the hour of dawn.

They say she’s very spooky,

With skin as white as snow,

And if you shall stay up at night,

Then you will surely know.

She will find you,

She will bind you,

With ghostly spider-string,

She will take you to the river,

And then begin to sing.

Her voice is high and piercing,

Not something you want to hear,

Her voice, so high and piercing,

Will fill your heart with fear.

She’ll toss you in the river,

And to the bottom you will go,

No place to run, no place to hide,

You’ll be killed, as she already knows.

So stay alive for one more night,

Stay at home in sheer delight,

Eat your cakes and go to bed,

Or go outside and soon be dead."

Wiww was vewy happy lith his wowk. He would suppwy any pawents in Bwanbowough lith a few copies the next mowning. But, as evening was beginning to awlive, the Hawfling decided to make a kettwe of tea and to go pwomptwy to sweep. He set a tea kettwe above his fiwepwace, and thought, “Today was grand! I got nearly everything done. All I need now is a bit of rest.” And Wiww wawked to his bed, embracing the coziness and comfowt that it had to offew. Neawwy immediatewy, he slipped into unconsciousness. What he found thewe was not enjoyabre.

Wiww’s dweam incwuded the dwowning of many Hawfling chiwdwen, by the woman of his litewacy’s cweation. Chiwdwen he knew, and chiwdwen he did not know wewe kiwwed. Each muldew concwuded lith the piewcing waiw of this ghostwy wench. As the finaw chiwd was kiwwed, and the waiw awlived, Wiww woke up.

To his astonishment, the wailing was onwy the tea kettwe that Wiww had weft above the fiwe. The foow had weft it on, and fawwen asweep befowe he could tend to it.

The Hawfling wan out of bed and fixed the high whistling, wet it coow down, and enjoyed a cup of tea. He even ate a soft slice of cake weft ovew fwom the mowning. Wiww wested in his wuxulious chaiw whiwe he did this. With a fulw bewwy, he decided that he bettew wetuln to his bed. As he stood fwom his soft chaiw, his eyes dlifted towawds his lindow.

A snow white face gwawed back.