Grandma Grimm's swamp shack in the Witches' Swamp ---sc24
A BUILDING ASSOCIATED WITH JOY AND FUN
Grandma Grimm's swamp shack in the Witches' Swamp
Deep, deep, in the dark, dank dregs of the Witches' Swamp, a bright green light always shimmered and shined from the depths of the wishing well that marked the property of Grandma Grimm's swamp shack.
Three little girls stood looking over the rim of the stone well. "How does it shine like that?" the youngest one said as she pushed to her tip-toes to get a better look.
"Grandma poisons it," the tallest one said as she lowered in the wooden bucket grandma had tied to a string.
The heels came down and the little girl looked confused. "I thought she poisoned apples."
"She does. She throws an apple a week into the well to keep it poisoned," the eldest one said as she turned the handle on the winch to lift the filled bucket from the well.
"Ooooh," the youngest nodded. "That makes sense."
The tallest grabbed the filled bucket as it reached the top of the well.
Music filtered from the shack the girls called home. Grandma Grimm's favorite fiddler sounding from her scry-phone. Meanwhile Grandma Grimm sat in her favorite outdoor rocking chair and puffed on a long, thin pipe. She watched them from the porch, took an inhale and called out, "Mind that water, girlie, I got potions ta make wit it."
"Yes, grandma," Brunhilda answered.
"Go on now and give it Grissy. Gris, you put that in the cauldron," Grandma ordered, "and tend the fire. Tell me when it boils and turns gold."
Brunhilda handed the bucket to Griselda and the cousins shared a look of wonder.
"Gold?" Griselda questioned. Grandma had never asked them to wait until gold before.
"You heard me. Hildy you go on and help Bellatriix collect some wild jewel weed moss and morels. Now go on and git ta yer chores."
The girls did. Laughing and giggling and casting spells and catching frogs and listening to grandma's favorite fiddler while grandma smoked her pipe and pressed her juices and poisoned her apples. The girls knew life in the swamp with grandma was good for them. so long as green juice flowed and the well stayed poisoned life was good with grandma.
"And don't go lowerin my music, girlie," Grandma called to Griselda. "You know it gives me reason to tap ma feet!"
Grandma Grimm's swamp shack in the Witches' Swamp
Deep, deep, in the dark, dank dregs of the Witches' Swamp, a bright green light always shimmered and shined from the depths of the wishing well that marked the property of Grandma Grimm's swamp shack.
Three little girls stood looking over the rim of the stone well. "How does it shine like that?" the youngest one said as she pushed to her tip-toes to get a better look.
"Grandma poisons it," the tallest one said as she lowered in the wooden bucket grandma had tied to a string.
The heels came down and the little girl looked confused. "I thought she poisoned apples."
"She does. She throws an apple a week into the well to keep it poisoned," the eldest one said as she turned the handle on the winch to lift the filled bucket from the well.
"Ooooh," the youngest nodded. "That makes sense."
The tallest grabbed the filled bucket as it reached the top of the well.
Music filtered from the shack the girls called home. Grandma Grimm's favorite fiddler sounding from her scry-phone. Meanwhile Grandma Grimm sat in her favorite outdoor rocking chair and puffed on a long, thin pipe. She watched them from the porch, took an inhale and called out, "Mind that water, girlie, I got potions ta make wit it."
"Yes, grandma," Brunhilda answered.
"Go on now and give it Grissy. Gris, you put that in the cauldron," Grandma ordered, "and tend the fire. Tell me when it boils and turns gold."
Brunhilda handed the bucket to Griselda and the cousins shared a look of wonder.
"Gold?" Griselda questioned. Grandma had never asked them to wait until gold before.
"You heard me. Hildy you go on and help Bellatriix collect some wild jewel weed moss and morels. Now go on and git ta yer chores."
The girls did. Laughing and giggling and casting spells and catching frogs and listening to grandma's favorite fiddler while grandma smoked her pipe and pressed her juices and poisoned her apples. The girls knew life in the swamp with grandma was good for them. so long as green juice flowed and the well stayed poisoned life was good with grandma.
"And don't go lowerin my music, girlie," Grandma called to Griselda. "You know it gives me reason to tap ma feet!"
Type
Cottage
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