Rebecca's PenThe creative works of R.E.W.

About R.E.W

I am author, artist, history buff, wishing to share these three passions of mine with anyone who cares to read this blog. The main drive between these three deep interests of mine is imagination.

History isn't just people and events in a dusty book. Writing isn't just words in a tome. Art isn't just random images in a photograph, sketch or painting. I'll give you examples of what they really are.

This short story was an English assignment when I was probably in about fifth grade.  I was supposed to look at a picture and make a story out of it.  Well, I believe the picture was fairly pleasant, of great, tall white mountains, but I turned it into something haunting.  I always must have an eerie mystery.

Mystery of the Alps

Rebecca Williams


“Did you hear that?” Merle asked.  A howling wind whistled through the window.  Her husband, Franz, laughed merrily, “Oh it’s just the wind.”  The house seemed to sway in the violent gusts.  “This is a good time for a story,” Franz alleged.  His men companions gathered around him along with his vexed wife.  “Now, up in those Alps, right by our house,” Franz began, “lived two sisters.  Each night the two girls would lock up their house so no hideaway mountain vandals would break in.  One evening, the most furious storm was a brewing, and one of the sisters decided to go herd the sheep and goats into the balmy stable, where they’d be safe.  The other sister waited for hours for her sister to come back in.  The storm became even more and more violent every minute.  Just as the other sister was locking up, she noticed something stumbling towards the door.  It was her sister!  But her sibling didn’t look normal, she looked pallid and dazed.” Merle listened attentively as she gave the men some luscious stew.  As she placed the platters before them, she noticed something out of the window…

Anyways, the other sister, the pale one, pulled Merle (the normal sister) outside. Elizabeth (the pale sister) pointed to a body on the ground.  Elizabeth disappeared.  Merle bent down.  It was Elizabeth who, fortunately wasn’t dead, but she was greatly ill and Merle got one of the goats to help her in the house.  It’s said that the ghost of Elizabeth still wanders around in the Alps finding ill or injured people and leads other people to them.  But if you get on Elizabeth’s bad side, she’ll lead you into danger, maybe off a cliff of worse.”


Oh yeah, Merle, Franz’ wife, went out that night to gather up the sheep, but she NEVER CAME BACK!!!

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