GranolaBarrage

"Why, such untruths," says the Minotaur, stroking my cheek with a waxen claw. "What reason have I to murder and, ugh, how I shudder to say it," (he provides a theatrical little twitch of fur) "eat my guests?" "That is merely what they say." "They, they, they. And who is they, and how do you suppose they know? Have they been here? Do they dine with me?" "Well, no, sir, but . . ." "You silly little girl. So silly. So charmingly silly." He holds my entire chin now in his massive hand, and I know he can feel my frantic swallows like a sparrow's heartbeat against his flesh. "Why do you suppose I request only maidens and unwed men?" "I... I do

Beware the crossroads, mortal fair, For we are always watching there; But who, indeed, thou ask, are we? Hecate, not one, but three— Thrice the fury and the spite, Thrice the everlasting night That fast shall cling like specks of coal, Or like the sand upon a shoal, Unto the edges of thy soul— Thy bond to us complete. Beware the crossroads, mortal fair, For suicides are buried there, And their ghastly voices sound In the darkness all around— Listen not! lest they entice Thy fickle hand thy own throat slice, And join in their fetid ranks Beneath a cross of crooked planks— Meander not into their flanks, Pa