Eerie, Indiana fanfiction: The Neck
Oct. 23rd, 2015 12:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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Written for Day 23 of the
31_days October Challenge. The prompt was "Pocket full of rye"
The Corn Mother was a small, vaguely humanoid figure finely plaited from long hollow stalks of rye straw, lying at the bottom of Mister Chaney's pocket as she waited for the sowing season to return. Bound in red yarn to mark the coming of the king whose blood would quicken her again, she had retreated deeper and deeper into her golden fields as the harvest progressed, 'til finally there was only a single sheaf remaining. When they cut her down and the traditional cry of "The neck! The neck!" had rang across the bare fields, she coiled deep into the last of the summer's growth and half-dozed as the nimble fingers of the Harvest Maiden wove her into the shape she would inhabit for the winter.
In the spring, they would plough her into the first furrows and all her magic would return to the land, waking it from it's long, cold sleep. For now, the tightly woven Corn Dolly was content simply to rest for a time, as the Harvest Moon rose over Eerie and the scarecrows, freed at last from their months-long vigil, drank potent whiskey distilled from her essence and danced in her honour.
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The Corn Mother was a small, vaguely humanoid figure finely plaited from long hollow stalks of rye straw, lying at the bottom of Mister Chaney's pocket as she waited for the sowing season to return. Bound in red yarn to mark the coming of the king whose blood would quicken her again, she had retreated deeper and deeper into her golden fields as the harvest progressed, 'til finally there was only a single sheaf remaining. When they cut her down and the traditional cry of "The neck! The neck!" had rang across the bare fields, she coiled deep into the last of the summer's growth and half-dozed as the nimble fingers of the Harvest Maiden wove her into the shape she would inhabit for the winter.
In the spring, they would plough her into the first furrows and all her magic would return to the land, waking it from it's long, cold sleep. For now, the tightly woven Corn Dolly was content simply to rest for a time, as the Harvest Moon rose over Eerie and the scarecrows, freed at last from their months-long vigil, drank potent whiskey distilled from her essence and danced in her honour.