Penny Willan and the Well Quotes

“Painful memories, they can mend,
love’s powerful, but it can rend,
through the treacherous act of jealousy.
A passion that seeks to destroy,
the soul when it deploys,
the vicious sin that is envy.

Take heed my friends,
when contemplating the end
of an imagined rival for the heart’s true amour.
Acts of envy bode not well,
for they cast an evil spell,
and in the end you’ll suffer forevermore.

For jealously can blight,
the harmonious light
of all the love you’d hoped to see,
because envy has power,
and can inhumanly devour,
everything you wanted from love, for thee.”
― A. Lee Brock, Penny Willan and the Well: A Fairy Tale of Ode

“Rain turned to ice,
and lightning splintered, it spliced
the black sky, it seeped a bright white.
All animals they fled,
from the sky as it bled,
pale death that fell veiling the night.”
― A. Lee Brock, Penny Willan and the Well: A Fairy Tale of Ode

“In hundreds of years of wish fulfillment,
never once to the demon’s bereavement,
had a wish gone unable to be yielded.
It was love this day, which defeated the curse,
and there in Hell there was little worse,
than the dark forces of evil gone unwielded.”
― A. Lee Brock, Penny Willan and the Well: A Fairy Tale of Ode

“Envy said, “Girl, I remember well,
ye, who I flung from Hell,
and not a day has passed, I haven’t missed
the loss of your soul that I mourned,
I’ve been bereft and forlorn,
for the sweet taste of your flesh I’ve yet to kiss.

But no worries—bygones,
that’s the past—long gone,
I don’t hold a grudge, no, in no way.
And though your family they did swindle
my joy of flaying ye on a spindle,
I begrudge ye not a little, so let’s play.

So, merely toss your token in my well,
and all your dreams I will unveil,
for ye alone, them I’ll grant.
Come closer, little Penny,
your hands I know are not empty,
ye have something I dreadfully want.”
― A. Lee Brock, Penny Willan and the Well: A Fairy Tale of Ode

“Wrath crawled out from the well,
on direction from Hell,
to get back what it once lost.
With vengeance in mind,
it set out to find,
a specified soul to accost.

When the Hell-well beckoned,
Mother’s will now reckoned,
her dead soul now wholly enslaved.
Embodied in a rotting husk,
the corpse reeked of putrid musk,
her being wholly depraved.”
― A. Lee Brock, Penny Willan and the Well: A Fairy Tale of Ode