Musings

The Tongue of the Dead

Halloween is upon us.  Tonight I will be telling at a wedding, where the bride wanted some spooky stories, and asked me to come up with one about the venue.  I will record that one at some point, but in the meantime, here is a story I always bring out at Halloween, or at other times when people want their spines tingled.  It is an old Arabic folktale, which I found in a book of stories from Iraq.

 

 

Riddle of the day

Riddle of the day:
It twists and turns in the man's hands,
and he gains nothing.
Happy, he cleans it,
and puts it away, to use another day.

Riddle of the day

Riddle of the day:
My silent chimes greet the summer,
a sky carpet under the boughs.

Riddle of the day

Riddle of the day:
I do not lie in a circle of stone,
I rise up high, and rarely alone.
My flesh is pale, my fingers dark,
Enjoy me in the park.

Riddle of the day

Riddle of the day:
 
In a lounge lurks a two-toned thing,
It will hide anything unless overthown.

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