The Song of the Mandrake Queen

The Song of the Mandrake Queen

The simple folk of Ponyville
From whence this story hails
Derive a certain perverse thrill
From dark and spooky tales

In quiet whispers, some may tell
Of evil they have seen:
A vision from the pits of Hell,
The dreaded Mandrake Queen

A banshee made of twisted wood,
Her eyes are jet black holes
She stalks the righteous, hunts the good,
And gobbles up their foals

And ponies claim that late at night
Whilst having pleasant dreams
They have been woken in a fright
By shrill and monstrous screams

Invariably the next day
When folks have heard that sound
A foal, they’ll say, has run away;
But they are never found.

But she was not always that way,
That dreaded, demon mare;
Pure evil walks by light of day
And takes one unaware

So gather friends, for now’s the time
As nights grow cold and long,
To hear this cautionary rhyme:
The Mandrake Queen’s sad song.

CANTO I

Across the bridge and down the roads
As cobbles turn to loam
Just past the pond with croaking toads
There stood a lonely home

And in the home there was a mare
Whose days were full of toil
She cultivated carrots there
In dark and fertile soil

Her cutie mark was just the same
As her delicious crop
It even did inspire her name:
They called her Carrot Top.

She led a very simple life
Monotonous and dull
Enduring hardship, pain, and strife
For one most noble goal

Her dreary life had but one light
One reason to exult
One thing that made the sun shine bright:
A darling little colt

She was his mom, and he her son
Though she was no one’s wife
She worked until the day was done
To win her son's good life

He was an energetic boy
Quite perfect in and out
He brought his mother pride and joy
His name was Carrot Sprout.

Yet their horizon held dark clouds
For just beyond their farm
Beneath the forest’s leafy shrouds
Was one who meant them harm.

It started on one bright fall day
As leaves were turning red
When little Sprout was made to stay
At home, quite sick in bed

His mother did not feel concern
The flu was all it was
But as his fever came to burn
It gave his mother pause

When, after resting one whole day,
Poor Sprout was still so ill
She knew that she would have to pay
A hefty doctor’s bill.

She opened wide her dusty purse
And laid her money bare
She sighed and mumbled out a curse
She could not pay for care

As Carrot Sprout whimpered and cried
While in his bed he laid
She knew she’d have to squelch her pride
And beg the doc for aid

She made the long trip into town
And found the doctor there
She set her threadbare coin purse down
And pleaded for his care

The small-town doc was old and gray,
He also was quite kind
He promptly set off without pay
To see what he could find.

Upon arriving at her stead
The doctor tasted fear
The young colt’s tongue was crimson red
His illness then was clear

He prayed that it was not the case
Ran all the tests he could
They failed, and so he had to face
An outlook far from good

He told the colt he’d be okay
And patted his sweet head
He did not have the heart to say
The child would soon be dead

But still, the mother had to know
Her son’s impending doom
He tried to blunt the heavy blow
With tactful, kind aplomb

His tone was gentle as he spoke
He was direct, not vague
But still the farmer's poor heart broke
At news of foul Red Plague.

The weeping mare fell to the floor
Her agony was pure
Through sobs she managed to implore
The doc to find a cure

The doctor swore to do his best
To save the colt from harm
Advising liquids, soup, and rest,
He left the carrot farm.

CANTO II

The doctor diligently sought
A cure for Carrot Sprout
But soon it seemed ‘twas all for naught
And time was running out

He wrote to colleagues far and wide
Read all the books he had
He looked and searched, but none supplied
Salvation for the lad

The doc's poor wits were near their end
And worked right to the bone
When he received word from his friend
In distant Griffonstone

It seemed the griffons had a brew
For Red Plague and its ilk:
Three cups of frost salts, cold and blue
Mixed with some buttermilk

While those two things were common fare
The potion needed more
Its final part was very rare
And steeped in myth and lore:

Born from the hearts of windigos
That brim with icy chill
A flower grown in bitter snows,
The Crystal Daffodil.

But some old griffons had the skill
To find the bloom of ice
They’d ship some off to Ponyville
If paid the proper price

The letter then went on to state
The flower’s crushing cost
The doctor knew at that high rate
That Carrot Sprout was lost

For Ponyville was not a town
Imbued with massive wealth
And none could put the money down
To save the young lad’s health

He set the letter to the side
And though his stomach churned,
He went to solemnly confide
The news that he had learned.

Meanwhile, the carrot-farming mare
Was doing her utmost
To stop the sick child in her care
From giving up the ghost

Her many friends did what they could
To aid her in this task
They came because their hearts were good,
She didn’t have to ask.

Sprout’s kindly friend from down the way
Brought water from her well
And came to help him pass each day
Her name was Sweetie Belle

Though weak and sick, young Carrot Sprout
Did not fall to despair
He’d smile and laugh, he’d joke and shout
While in his sweet friend’s care

And when poor Sprout needed to sleep
She left most gracefully,
She crept downstairs without a peep
And joined his mom for tea

As they were sharing their Earl Grey
A rap came on the door
The doc arrived with much to say
About the bitter cure

And when he shared the sky-high rate
To get what Sprout would need,
The farmer’s heart was filled with hate;
She cursed the griffons’ greed.

As Carrot Top began to cry
The doctor hugged her tight,
But Sweetie wouldn’t let Sprout die;
She swore that she would fight!

She let the grieving mother be,
And headed home with haste,
For if she wanted victory
There was no time to waste

Though nobody in Ponyville
Alone was rich enough
Together, they could pay the bill
It wouldn’t be that tough!

And so the noble Sweetie Belle
Embarked on her bold quest
To end her good friend’s living hell
And let the poor colt rest.

CANTO III

Young Sweetie gathered up her friends
And shared the plan she’d made
To satisfy her lofty ends
She needed both their aid

And when she told them what to do
To help the colt in need
Both Apple Bloom and Scootaloo
Quite happily agreed

The kindly trio set about
Preparing their campaign
They crafted slogans they could shout
To maximize their gain

And when the sun’s first golden ray
Came heralding the dawn
They set out quick and seized the day
Their fundraiser was on!

They knocked on every single door
Hit every merchant’s stall
“Save Carrot Sprout!” they did implore
To ponies great and small

And soon they found, to their surprise,
Bits filling up their cart
For Sweetie, with her sad, sad eyes
Could melt a frozen heart

And when the day was growing old
Their fundraising was done
They marveled at their pile of gold
That gleamed beneath the sun

Triumphantly, the fillies went
To Carrot Top’s chateau
They laughed and sang with merriment
Their hearts were all aglow

For nothing in this world contends,
As all can plainly see,
With bringing hope to downcast friends
Through generosity.

They knocked on Carrot Top’s front door
And showed her their surprise
The farmer’s jaw dropped to the floor
And tears came to her eyes

The fillies told her of their quest
To help her save her son
She quelled the sobs within her breast
And deeply thanked each one.

Soon Sweetie’s friends excused themselves
They had somewhere to be
And Carrot Top ransacked her shelves
To find her finest tea

The farmer and the filly sat
And sipped at their hot brew
They laughed and had a lovely chat
As good friends often do

Soon Sweetie went bearing a smile
To visit Carrot Sprout
And Carrot Top worked for a while
To count the money out.

She counted stack by golden stack
More than she’d ever seen
The sheer amount took her aback
She felt quite like a queen

But as she counted, she felt fear
Arising in her soul
Could even this cash see her clear
To pay her bill in full?

At last she set the money down
And choked up, lost for words
The alms of the entire town
Could not pay off those birds.

Sure, she was close, but not quite there
Just what was she to do?
To save the young colt in her care
Her options now were few

When Sweetie said bye for the day
She smiled and stroked her mane
She did not have the heart to say
Her efforts were in vain

And once young Sprout was tucked in tight
With much water to drink
His mother stole into the night
To walk around and think

She did not care as she went ‘round
It all was just the same
She cast her gaze down at the ground
And wandered without aim

But soon she gave a frightened gasp
And looked up just to see
That she was in the forest’s grasp
This was the Everfree!

The woods beyond her house, she knew
Were dangerous at night
For monsters slithered, sneaked, and flew
And sought some prey to bite

She did her best to keep her cool
And head back to the east
She prayed she wouldn’t meet a ghoul
Who’d have her for a feast

She’d nearly reached the forest’s edge
When something caught her ear
A calm voice coming from a hedge
Called out, both loud and clear

“Oh please my child, please hear my rhyme,
I do not mean you harm
I’ve watched you now for quite some time
Down on your carrot farm…”

CANTO IV

The strange sound coming from nearby
Gave Carrot quite a scare
She looked around, searched low and high,
And stammered out “Who’s there?”

“Come closer, child, and speak with me,
For I know all about
The deathly crimson malady
Afflicting Carrot Sprout…”

The farmer’s heart skipped quite a beat
At mention of her child
Though instinct told her to retreat,
She stepped into the wild.

The soothing voice, it led her on
As gentle as a breeze,
And soon enough she came upon
A clearing in the trees

The ground was covered with a plant
Of very ill repute
Its leaves hung in a drooping slant;
They called it mandrake root

When uprooted, the stories said,
The mandrake, without fail,
Would knock a foolish pony dead
With one ear-piercing wail

But stranger still, the form it took
Could chill a pony’s soul;
Its twisted roots would often look
Just like a little foal!

And at the clearing’s very core
A worn stone altar stood
It bore the evil runes of yore
To ward off light and good

Poor Carrot shook in fearful dread
At this corrupted place
But still she forged on straight ahead
To see what she must face.

As Carrot Top stepped with great care
Her tired mind ill at ease
She spied the figure of a mare
Emerging from the trees

“Now welcome, child, to my old shrine,
In this forgotten glade.
I think, with your son on the line,
A bargain can be made…”

The ragged mare looked small and old,
Though sturdy as an oak,
To ward herself from wind and cold
She wore an old green cloak

Her milky eyes seemed frail and weak
But held a hidden flame,
When Carrot brought herself to speak
She asked the pony’s name.

“Oh child, I’ve been called many ways
But none that you have seen
For ponies that I meet these days
I’m just the Mare in Green.

I’ve seen the trouble you’ve been through
With your son’s losing fight,
And so I wish to offer you
A chance to set things right.

For I can grant to you great wealth,
Your coffers I can fill,
So you can buy, for your son’s health,
That Crystal Daffodil!”

It all seemed too good to be true
Could such a thing be real?
The farmer asked what she must do
For her end of the deal

The Green Mare’s creepy laughing broke
The silence ‘round the glade,
She reached her hoof beneath her cloak,
And pulled a wicked blade.

“To this shrine, olden ponies came
To offer sacrifice
Now I want you to do the same
To pay this bargain’s price.

An innocent you must bring here
Whose life is at its start
Then lay her on the altar, dear,
And pierce her noble heart

When you’ve done that, I’ll let you see
The secret that I hold,
And you will most assuredly
Start raking in the gold

And once you’ve done it four times more
We’ll both have reached our goals
You’ll have your son back from death’s door
And I’ll have five more souls!”

She offered Carrot Top the knife
But Carrot shouted “NO!”
She swore upon her very life
She’d never sink so low!

“If that’s your stance, dear, I don’t mind
You’re free to walk on out,
Just know that you will never find
A cure for Carrot Sprout.

But should you do right by your son
And child, I think you will,
You cannot stop until you’re done
Once you’ve made your first kill…”

And as she muttered those last words,
She looked up to the sky
A flock of jet black, cawing birds
Came swooping from on high

They covered her from tail to face;
A most disturbing scene,
And when they left, there was no trace
Of any Mare in Green.

Then Carrot Top was wise enough
To quickly run away
And though she’d wheeze and huff and puff,
She didn’t stop ‘til day.

CANTO V

‘Twas dawn when Carrot reached her home
And softly shuffled in
She swore that she would never roam
Into the woods again

She snuck upstairs without a peep
And checked on Carrot Sprout
Her darling boy was still asleep
So soon she too passed out

But when she woke at eight o’clock
Groggy and hating life
Her nightstand gave her quite a shock:
It held the Green Mare’s knife!

She loudly gasped in utter fright
Her body shook with fear
She had not taken it last night,
How had it gotten here?

But Carrot pushed fear from her head
And hid the knife away
With popping joints she rose from bed
And went to face the day.

She made some breakfast for her son
And took it up the stairs
She chatted with him one-on-one
To help ease all his cares

But soon she had to go away;
She had a farm to run
With mouths to feed and bills to pay
She stepped out in the sun

She tended to her tasty crops –
Her usual routine
She sprinkled water on their tops
To keep their lush leaves green

And as she gazed out at her fields
She prayed with all her soul
That harvest time would bring high yields
And keep her coffers full

For earning bits to save her son
Was always on her mind
But through hard work, she’d get it done
And put this trial behind.

She toiled for many hours straight
With countless chores to do
And as the day was growing late
At last she saw them through

But as she settled for the night
She heard a noise outside
And out her door she saw a sight
That she could not abide

Another filly from the school
Was standing on the road
And hurling insults sharp and cruel
At her humble abode.

She’d seen this young pink mare in town
And knew of her high rank
She wore a shining diamond crown
That also marked her flank

Her verbal barbs, so tinged with hate,
Were meant for Carrot Sprout
She mocked the sick child’s ghastly fate
And boasted of her clout

And up above her, Carrot Top
Heard Sprout begin to cry
This monstrous teasing had to stop;
So outside she did fly!

Her heart brimming with fury’s fire,
She stormed out on the lawn
She warned the filly of her ire
If she did not get gone

But to the farmer’s great surprise
The filly did not care
With hatred gleaming in her eyes
She made fun of the mare

Her country bumpkin life was sad
And what was even more
She raised her child without a dad –
She clearly was a whore!

But worst of all was Carrot’s shame
When it was cruelly said
That she deserved to take the blame
When her poor son was dead

For had she planned and saved a bit
Just stored some cash away
She’d be prepared when trouble hit
And Sprout would be okay.

It’s said there is no crueler thing
Than harsh words that are true;
That insult had a truthful ring,
The carrot farmer knew.

So down in Carrot’s timid breast
The mare felt something snap
A rage-filled cry rose from her chest;
She gave the girl a slap!

The filly rubbed her tender cheek
And gasped in disbelief;
The humble farmer, oh so meek,
Was quickly filled with grief

But then the filly gave a frown
And cleared her throat to say
Her daddy owned the whole damn town
And he would make her pay

His legal team was up to snuff
For such an easy suit;
He’d sue the farmer, take her stuff,
And leave her destitute!

Poor Carrot Top was well aware
This was no idle threat
She lost her cool and now the mare
Was swimming in regret

She’d go to jail and lose her gold
To pay the legal cost
Her son would be out in the cold
And surely would be lost

But somewhere deep inside of her
A dark voice made it clear
She’d be safe if this filly were
To somehow disappear…

And plus, the Green Mare in the woods
Would want her soul to steal
She already would have the goods,
So why not make a deal?

She wrestled with that haunting fact
She weighed it in her soul
Could she commit an evil act
To save her precious foal?

In moments, her grim course was set
She cursed the stars above
Then struck her foe without regret
All in the name of love

The filly crumpled to the ground
Under her harsh attack
She dragged her off without a sound
And stuffed her in a sack

She tied the sack up extra tight
Then grabbed the Green Mare’s blade
And then she slunk off in the night
To seek the ancient glade…

CANTO VI

Through underbrush and twisted vine
The farmer ventured on
To find the ancient forest shrine
Before the light of dawn

The bratty filly made no peep
And laid limp in her bag
As she was carried, fast asleep,
To meet the forest hag

And after hours of stumbling ‘round
The forest late at night
The mare saw mandrake on the ground
Lit by the sparse moonlight

She stood up straight and set her jaw
Took in a ragged breath
Then marched right on into the maw
Of this foul place of death

And as she set her weary eyes
Upon her goal at last
The altar, to her great surprise,
Was much unlike the past

The ebon runes carved to and fro
Upon the tablet’s face
Shone with an iridescent glow
As delicate as lace

The stone itself, once split and worn,
Was fresh as virgin snow
As if it had just now been shorn
From bedrock down below.

The farmer hefted up her sack
And dumped the filly there
Upon the altar, cold and black,
She lay there unaware

As Carrot Top beheld her prey
The wind began to blow
The twisted trees began to sway
Leaves shaking to and fro

And on the breeze her ears did catch
A gleeful cackling sound
That drew near to the mandrake patch
As it swirled round and round

The sound grew to a mighty boom
And soon there could be seen
A figure in the midnight gloom
The dreaded Mare in Green!

"My child, I knew you'd see the light,
And do the proper thing.
Now let us bless this sacred night
With your fine offering!

Now, this old rite of sacrifice
Is quite easy to do
As long as you took my advice
And brought the knife with you."

At this, the farmer did display
That blade, so sharp and fierce,
Which hungered for soft flesh to flay
And blameless hearts to pierce.

"Now hold that blade above your head
Reciting after me
These solemn words that must be said
With utmost gravity:

O Father of the ageless wood
Beyond the grasp of time
Devourer both of light and good
I beg thee: hear my rhyme!

Just as the snake consumes the mouse
This soul I offer thee
To serve the glory of thy house
As roots sustain a tree

Just as the chill of winter's breath
Does summer's heat impugn
Your living servant pays with death
To seek thy godly boon

O Father of the verdant hell
Thy hunter calls for aid
With sanguine ink I seal this spell
The sacrifice is made!"

And though the farmer felt so wrong
These words she did recite
The Mare in Green, her voice sing-song,
Then cried out in delight

"You've done it, child, the pact is made,
It's time to do your part.
Raise up your ancient, woeful blade
And pierce the filly's heart!"

The words fell hard upon the mare
It all became so real
She held the blade, but did she dare
To finish out this deal?

She gazed upon the little child
That had to be dealt death
She saw her face so calm and mild
She heard each steady breath

A queasy feeling made her sway
As she thought out her sin
She felt her courage drain away;
A fading fire within

The forest hag soon understood
Poor Carrot's flagging will
She growled beneath her ragged hood
And spoke in tones most shrill:

"I see the way you hesitate
So listen well, you fool,
You must not make the Father wait -
Quick action is his rule.

Stab quickly now with fury's fire
And cut the child's heart out
Or draw the mighty forest's ire
And lose your Carrot Sprout!"

With this, poor Carrot's mind was made
She could not lose her son
She held aloft the gleaming blade
She had to get this done!

She set her eyes once more to see
The sleeping child below
She murmured an apology
Then struck the fateful blow.

The blade fell quickly through the air
Its bloody thirst to slake
But then, to Carrot's great despair,
The filly sprung awake

The child let out a plaintive cry
To all the gods above
It was no use for she did die
All in the name of love

The blade struck home with stunning ease
And silenced her for good
Her blameless blood was shed to please
The Father of the Wood

And as the child's life fell away
Her murderer did spy
Her own reflection on display
Within the child's dead eye

Her face alight with rage laid bare
A strange look in her eyes -
The mare she saw reflected there
She did not recognize.

With trembling hooves she tore apart
The sacrifice's chest
And then retrieved the still-warm heart
From deep within her breast.

The Green Mare cackled without stop
And summoned up a bowl
She placed it on the altar-top
Next to the poor dead foal

"Well done my child, my darling mare,
You did it all with ease.
Now drain the heart in that bowl there -
Just give it one good squeeze!"

So Carrot filled the blood bowl up
Until the heart was dried
And then the Green Mare poured a cup
Of some strange dust inside

A bubbling froth began to rise
And soon it could be seen
The mixture changed before their eyes
To some dark shade of green.

The Green Mare emptied out the brew
Into a golden flask
Then told the farmer what to do
To finish out her task

"By adding in the mandrake root
The potion now is done
And surely now you'll get the loot
To save your precious son

Just take the potion to your field
And pour it on your crop
It will increase your harvest's yield
My dear sweet Carrot Top.

But let me tell you one more thing
That you cannot ignore:
Now that you've made your offering
You must bring back four more!"

The Green Mare gave a laugh most weird
Then lightning streaked the sky
And in the flash, she disappeared
In one blink of an eye

And much to Carrot Top's great fear
The filly was no more
The corpse was gone, the altar clear
Bereft of blood and gore

The farmer did not linger long
On that unholy ground
And even though she felt so wrong
She galloped, homeward bound.

CANTO VII

Poor Carrot ran through wood and hedge
And though she knew not how
She met the profane forest's edge
With dawn's light on her brow

Her muscles tired through and through,
Exhaustion slowed her gait
Yet she still had much work to do;
The potion could not wait

She reached her humble carrot patch
And with a pensive breath
Undid her satchel's rusty latch
And grasped the brew of death

With closely measured careful drops
She poured it to and fro
And as the potion hit her crops
They shone with magic's glow

And once the potion all was gone
She put the flask away
Then trudged across her dewy lawn
Right at the break of day

She went inside her worn front door
To check up on her foal
She found him sleeping with a snore -
A peaceful, happy soul!

The harrowed farmer had a drink
To block out what she'd done
Then went upstairs to sleep a wink
Beneath the morning sun

She shut her eyes and tried to rest
But sleep came fitfully
Her blade within the filly's chest
Was all her dreams could see

And some time hence she heard a noise
That work her with a jolt
She ran downstairs with speed and poise
For it came from her colt

Her sickly son bounced happily
His joyous grin was wide
He bid his mom to come and see
The miracle outside!

And when the farmer's gaze was drawn
Her lips uttered an oath



For all her crops had undergone
A truly massive growth

Their bright green stalks stood tall and proud
At least a sapling's height
Their orange hue was bright and loud
Their ripeness was just right

Each swollen carrot seemed to match
A large wood barrel's width
It did appear the humble patch
Was now the stuff of myth!

With jaw agape she took young Sprout
And, making not a peep
The son and mother both went out
A rich bounty to reap

Despite her incredulity
Her labors did begin
She used her ingenuity
To bring the harvest in

She sent her son to grab supplies
To build herself a winch
For picking carrots of this size
Would never be a cinch

By noon she finished her machine
And yet she labored on
Her carrots, by their stalks so green,
From out the earth were drawn

With all her strength she pulled and pulled
Against each carrot's root
Her muscles strained and sweat drops rolled
To win her orange loot

By three, the steadfast Carrot Top
Had picked her small patch bare
She loaded up her monstrous crop
With tender loving care

And once the cart was loaded in
She turned and went inside
To go prepare her sickly kin
To take him for a ride

In blankets thick she wrapped her sweet
To ward him from a chill
She placed him in the cart's high seat
Then left for Ponyville

And as the farmer pulled her cart
To sell her harvest's yield
She saw a sight that froze her heart
Encroaching on her field

For just beyond the furthest bound
Her carrots had been sown
Within the dark and fertile ground
Some mandrake root had grown!

But Carrot bottled up her fright;
She couldn't let Sprout know
The awful thing she'd done last night
To make her carrots grow.

She set her eyes upon the road
And soon the mighty mare
Had pulled her old cart's heavy load
Into the market square

She quickly opened up her stall
And with a sharp, loud wail
Bid all the ponies, great and small
To come and see her sale

And when she set her carrots down
The townsfolk gasped in shock
And soon the tight-knit, sleepy town
Was all abuzz with talk

A bustling crowd then did appear
To see the spectacle
Their murmurs rife with awe and fear
As Carrot played her role

With showy flair the farmer spun
The tale of poor Sprout's fate
And how she prayed to save her son
Before it was too late

Her pious pleas to keep her colt
Were answered from above;
Her mythic crops the clear result
Of holy, graceful love

She played their heartstrings like a lute
Then named her bounty's price:
Two hundred bits for one whole root
And ten bits for a slice.

The mass of ponies stepped right up
With hunger in their eyes
They threw their coins in Carrot's cup
And claimed their orange prize

And when the old mare first in line
Gave Carrot's crop a bite
She said it tasted quite divine
So juicy, sweet, and right!

The din grew in intensity
The frenzied shouts rang loud
So much that Carrot did not see
A good friend in the crowd

The friend maneuvered her small form
And made it through the row
Soon something soft and oh-so warm
Hugged Carrot from below

The farmer gasped and froze in place
But her defenses fell
When she looked down and saw the face
Of her friend, Sweetie Belle

With blissful laughs the filly chimed
That she was full of joy
That fate had been so very kind
To Carrot and her boy

For Carrot's crops, undoubtedly
Were sprung from Heaven's seed
To save her humble family
In times of pressing need

With one false smile the farmer said
It sure did seem that way
Then Sweetie asked, her smile so wide,
If Sprout would like to play.

Upon the cart, young Sprout slept tight
For he was frail and sick,
Yet hearing Sweetie's voice so bright
Sure woke him up right quick!

The farmer let the children free
To have a bit of fun
As long as they returned to see
The setting of the sun.

So Carrot Sprout came off the cart
His leave had been received!
And Carrot Top, deep in her heart,
Was secretly relieved

For when she looked at Sweetie Belle
So friendly, kind, and fair
The child whose soul she fed to hell
Was all that she saw there

They both were young and full of life
With lovely sparkling eyes
That she extinguished with her knife
To win her current prize

But then the farmer shook her head
And stood herself up tall
She swallowed up her nagging dread
And answered profit's call.

CANTO VIII

By eventide, fair Carrot Top
Sold out of all her stock
She packed away her humble shop
Then glanced up at the clock

She heard the giant tower's bell
Ring out its nighttime song
She hoped that her young son was well
And nothing had went wrong

Then on the tower's final chime
Two young ones trotted in
Her son and Sweetie, right on time,
Came hustling through the din

Young Sprout looked flush and full of joy
Despite his failing health
The farmer welcomed back her boy
While counting out her wealth.

She thanked young Sweetie for her care
And kindness towards her colt
She really was a fine young mare,
A worthy young adult!

The bashful Sweetie gave a shrug
With humble, practiced grace
She gave young Sprout a tender hug
A smile upon her face.

And once the fond goodbyes were said
The farmer packed her load
Into her worn cart's rough-hewn bed
And set off down the road.

They left the bustling town behind
Their dark path lit by torch,
Then reached their home only to find
Someone upon the porch!

The night's gloom hardly did display
The stranger's shrouded face
But Carrot saw her coat was gray
And she looked out of place

As Carrot Top and Carrot Sprout
Pulled up into the farm
The little stranger shouted out
And swore she meant no harm

She said that she was here this day
To find her missing friend
For she'd been walking out this way
Before last evening's end

And only then did Carrot sense
She hadn't took the time
To contemplate this consequence
Of her enormous crime

She'd raise suspicion back in town
As more foals met their fate
Their searching eyes would all bear down
To come investigate!

This filly was the first to ask
But surely not the last;
They'd complicate the farmer's task
Of saving Sprout real fast!

And as the filly did recite
Her lost friend's age and name
Poor Carrot knew her kill last night
Was surely just the same.

So Carrot stood up straight and taut
And spoke both loud and clear
She lied and said that she had not
Seen any foal 'round here

The filly searched the farmer's soul
With sparkling purple eyes
And Carrot feared this simple foal
Might catch her in her lies

For her identity was clear;
Her daddy ran the bank
The silver spoon that stamped her rear
Denoted wealth and rank

Her glasses made her look the part
Of one with wits quite fast
In science, spelling, math and art
She never came in last.

At last the filly's gaze was through
She spoke in tones quite slow
That should the farmer find a clue
She hoped she'd let her know

Just then a voice came from the cart
As Carrot's sickly youth
Struck fear into his mother's heart
By calling out the truth

Young Carrot Sprout, so kind and pure
Did what was good and right
He told the filly he was sure
He'd seen her friend last night!

He told how she had appeared
When twilight's hour was nigh
And how she'd heckled, mocked, and jeered
To make him hurt and cry

The filly gasped in disbelief
And glared at Carrot Top
The farmer's gut sunk down to grief
She knew this had to stop!

That nosy child could never know
What happened in the wood
And so she told the foal to go
And stay away for good

Reluctantly she went away,
But soon, called out the youth,
She'd come back another day
And figure out the truth.

So Carrot huffed and stamped the ground
Then put her cart away
She turned her door's knob, cold and round
And turned in for the day

And while she tucked her son in bed
With soft, maternal care
He turned and asked, eyes full of dread
Just why she lied back there

He heard her give the bully hell
While he trembled in fright,
Why could she not remember well
What happened just last night?

She stroked his mane and told her sweet,
In one maternal coo
That sadly, lies and plain deceit
Were something grown-ups do

For she had not lied on a whim,
She told her sleepy foal,
She lied because she cared for him
With all her heart and soul

She softly sang a lullaby
To put her child to sleep,
And once he dozed, she gave a sigh
So ragged, long and deep.

She went downstairs to have a drink
And calm her battered nerves
She needed quiet time to think
Through all life's twists and curves

Yet as she sat down with a beer
And sunk into her chair
A noise outside did make it clear
That someone else was there

She growled and grabbed a candlestick
To see just who it was
And swore she'd shoo them off right quick
If they came without cause

And outside in her carrot field
Beneath the shroud of night
The stranger's form was soon revealed
In pale, soft candlelight

It was the filly from before,
The one who snooped and pried
She'd come to look around once more
And find some clues outside!

And when she spotted Carrot Top
The little filly froze
The farmer marched out through her crop
A short distance to close

She shouted at the little spy
For coming here tonight
But then the corner of her eye
Caught one horrendous sight:

The fearful foal was holding strong
Onto a muddy crown
That Carrot knew once did belong
To that young brat from town

Last night she left it on the ground
Like such a foolish lout!
And now this foal had come around
And found the secret out

The fearful filly squeaked and cried
And asked about her friend
And Carrot Top coldly replied
Her search was at an end

And forward then the farmer sped
Her candlestick held high
She struck the girl upon her head
Then dragged her off to die…

CANTO IX

The nighttime woods were calm and still
A deathly, stagnant hush
As Carrot dragged her future kill
Through twisted vine and brush

No frogs called out their croaking song
No crickets played their drone;
The farmer grimly marched along
So fearfully alone

Beneath the forest's silent shroud
Distractions fell away
And buried thoughts came roaring loud
To haunt her on her way

She saw her prey from yesterday,
Recalled her bloody scream;
It seemed unreal and far away
A sick and monstrous dream.

Yet here she was, now on her way
To steal another soul
A bitter, hefty price to pay
To reach her noble goal

She felt some creeping pangs of doubt
About her current course
But quickly chased the dark thoughts out
With fervent, faithful, force.

For surely she was good and right
To play the Green Mare's game;
She did her gruesome deed tonight
In love's exalted name!

And all the horrid things she'd done
And all the things she'd do
Were good if they could help her son
To see his sickness through.

Twas midnight when she found that place
Where mandrake root did grow
She plodded in, bereft of grace
Her sacrifice in tow

The dormant wind at once awoke
It shook both tree and brush
And softly, then, the forest spoke
Its voice a raspy hush

"My child, your wisdom is immense;
How quickly you've returned!
It's only through your diligence
That Sprout's good health is earned…"

The phantom voice did cackle out;
The breeze became a gust
The leaves began to swirl about
Commingling with the dust

The monstrous wind swirled 'round her face;
A cyclone had begun!
It whirled about the sacred place
As leaves within it spun

The verdant tempest set its eyes
Upon the clearing's core
Once there, it quickly shrunk in size
And concentrated more

The swirling wind took pony form
And soon there could be seen
Emerging from the leafy swarm
The smiling Mare in Green

"No doubt you saw the great effect
Of last night's lovely brew!
So show the Father your respect
And do what you must do!"

Though fearful at the spectacle
The farmer gave a nod
And shuffled forth to trade a soul
To please the Forest God

With one great heave she set the kid
Upon the altar's stone
And from its sheath, the knife was slid
To cleave her flesh from bone.

Beneath her, Carrot saw her prey,
Her form lit by the moon
Her coat a pretty shade of gray
And on her flank, a spoon

Her stylish glasses scratched and bent
Her mane was all distraught
The girl was cute as fillies went,
But all that mattered not

Mechanically, she raised her blade
And took the green mare's lead
She spoke the spell within the glade
To feed the forest's greed

"O Father of the ageless wood
Beyond the grasp of time
Devourer both of light and good
I beg thee: hear my rhyme!

Just as the snake consumes the mouse
This soul I offer thee
To serve the glory of thy house
As roots sustain a tree

Just as the chill of winter's breath
Does summer's heat impugn
Your living servant pays with death
To seek thy godly boon

O Father of the verdant hell
Thy hunter calls for aid
With sanguine ink I seal this spell
The sacrifice is made!"

And strangely then, she felt no fright,
No creeping pangs of doubt
So Carrot struck with all her might
And snuffed the filly out

The steel struck true within her chest
The victim drew one breath
She shuddered hard, then came her rest;
The endless sleep of death.

And as the blood came fast and hot
And spurted on the mare
Poor Carrot had a dreadful thought:
She really didn't care.

She gazed down at the dead child's face
And cared not for her plight;
She chose to snoop around her place
And earned her fate tonight.

The last night's kill was hard to do
It wracked her from within;
But this time she had gone right through
And thought not of her sin.

No reservations slowed her blade;
They just did not occur;
Had this foul place already made
A killer out of her?

The Green Mare's wheezing, grating cry
Then broke her reverie
The forest witch was riding high,
And cackling with glee

"My child, you made a perfect kill!
Such skill and such finesse!
And now that Father's had his fill,
Your carrot patch he'll bless!

Now show me more amazing art
In how you use that knife.
Cut out the filly's poor pure heart
And drain it of its life."

The butchery was quick and fast
As Carrot cut the foal
Removed her still-warm heart at last
And squeezed it in a bowl

Mare in Green then did her task
And added mandrake root
She mixed it, poured it in a flask,
Then boiled it up to boot

The glowing brew was quickly done
And bottled nice and tight
And eager then to see her son,
The farmer soon took flight

But as she turned to head on out
And leave this place of fear
She heard the Green Mare give a shout
And call out loud and clear:

"That's two you've finished, Carrot Top,
But three more still to give.
So carry on and don't you stop
If you want Sprout to live…"