Butter Rum Cartoon

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Thursday, January 15, 2009


In her school art class, our 12-year-old daughter Julia made a cottage out of clay, then glazed it and fired it in a kiln. I wanted to share her work with you, but wanted to put more than just a picture of it here. So I asked Julia to tell me a story about it, and she came up with "The Abandoned Cottage." She said:
"There used to be an old lady with an only child named Alice who lived there. Her daughter had long black hair to her knees and she was a hunchback and so the old lady put her up in the attic to keep her away from the world and how it would react to her. The old lady would bring her only bread and water for each meal. Then one day the old lady didn't want to put her through life suffering, so she brought her daughter to the well, and when she was about to push her in, the daughter grabbed hold of the old lady and both fell in. No one lived long in the cottage after that, because you can still see the old lady and Alice standing by the well, staring at you."
I put this story to rhyme, and now we have a blog.


Artwork and Story by Julia Lund. Composed by Dale Lund.

The cottage is abandoned, the cottage sits there still,
Along a road that's no more used, a mile from the mill.
Folks knew of one who lived there, but really there were two--
The old and wrinkled widow was the only one they knew.

But her only child, Alice, born a hunchback, lived above,
Hidden lonely in the attic, forsaken, without love.
Fed only bread and water, this poor girl with long black hair
Could only dream what lay beyond the walls that kept her there.

The widow knew her daughter's suffering, but the world would hurt her more,
Folks would point and laugh and cringe, she was safe behind that door.
But by the time her hair grew to her knees, poor Alice had withdrawn;
The mother turned her desperate thoughts to the well across the lawn.

Instead of condemnation, death would save her from this hell;
Deformity would not exist at the bottom of the well.
No longer still and silent, Alice struggled and she cried,
And at the well she grabbed her mother. Both fell in. Both died.

Few have dwelt within this cottage since that dreadful day,
But after seeing what some have seen there, no one dared to stay.
The specters seen by some of them, those who were more daring,
Were of a hag and hunchback daughter, beside the old well, staring.

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