The Sorcerer's Apprentice

Her master, the wizard old, has gone for the night
So at last the girl can test the powers of her might
On the wand laid to rest she lays her hands
So that the spirits’ sparkles do as she them commands
The girl speaks her magic, and so the wand’s orb glows
The girl smiles contently as to the tomb a sparkle flows
There lay the dead, once well at rest
But now they’ll become part of this test
As the spirits’ sparkles sprinkle in the wizard’s old mill
A deafening noise delivers a chill
For as the spirit’s sparkles found their way
To the bodies deceased, ‘tis with dismay
That they possess them; the dead live again
Their flesh long gone, yet their clothes still bloodstain’
With power and might they’ve opened the tomb
Releasing both noise and a sickening fume
Frightened at first, but dissolved soon her fear
For when they bow deeply, ‘tis the girl clear 
That she has succeeded, that they’ll do her will
That they’ll do the task, in her master’s old mill
She had begun, the work she did indeed start
But had found the task for herself too hard. 
“Slowly the wheels grind
Slowly the stream flows
And now I find
That my power grows
The bones must be crushed
To magic dust
And these servants dead
Will do so, they must.”
As many a hand make heavy work light
The dead are ordered to turn tonight
The old mill’s wheel, so that it to dust
The bones it grinds so that they are crushed
The dust they collect and bring to the dray
Standing outside near the ghost town’s quay
Then they pull the cart to the black tower
Stapling the sacks as they would flour
By the time the clock clings the witching hour
The girl finds that she has no longer the power
To stay awake, so she falls asleep
Pleased with herself as her slaves loathingly creep
Dreaming of great power, she’s pulling the strings
Of lands here and yonder, of peasants and kings
Of all of Frigdborgh, of the Oversea Lands
Of the Northern Realm, too, and as her hands
Reach out for the heavens, she rises high
Down from Helheim and Nether up into the sky
To the realm of the sky gods, oh, see the sun gold
All bow before her, and her master old
Stands by her side, a servant, too,
As she stand at the Old Tree in ever-morning dew
“The mill’s wheels still grind
The stream continues to flow
And I’m so pleased to find
That my power will grow
The seven worlds I shall rule,
Mine is every throne.
I see my fortune's spun
By the Fates whose favour I’ve won
And I am quite certain
This won’t be undone.”
But as the girl sleeps, the wheels run berserk
For too quickly an end has come to the work
Her slaves have increased their output, and as they crept
They turned the stock empty, thus nothing could’ve kept 
The cogwheels from squeaking—they’re so wildly turning
That the stream’s water, too, turns to mad churning
So ‘tis with nothing they fill full to the brim
So ‘tis with nothing that they pull with dead limb
The dray to the tower, humming their ghostly hymn
And then back again, back to the mill
While the sound of the wheel turns oh so shrill
And the spirit's sparkles turn oh so chill
The spirits unhappy complete the scene
As they angrily wake the girl from her dream
With deep shrieks and bright lights seeking her attention
With blazing fury they point at her pretension
“Quickly the mill’s wheels grind
Quickly the river’s stream flows
And now that I find
That my power grows
They’ve crushed all the bones 
To magic dust
Now I must stop them, 
Stop them I must!”
The orb glows still; sparkles are still sparkling
Yet fear now becomes this little darkling
As she hastens to find the proper spell
To stop them from doing their job done so well
Yet now she fails, she cannot find
The spell to change her minion’s minds
So to the axe she turns instead
And fiercely she cuts off their lifeless heads
Therewith the threesome finally at rest
The girl understands she failed her own test
Now that she’s learned well from her mischief
She nevertheless feels some relief
That all played out well, that despite her failing
Her presence of mind allowed her prevailing.
“Slowly again the wheels grind
Restful once more the stream flows
And now I find
That despite that my power grows
I have much to learn still
Before I can turn to my will
The living and dead, so I shall hide
My old master’s wand, I’ll put it aside.”
And so the girl once more turns to sleep
And once more starts to dream so very deep
But in the darkness dead eyes now lurk
As the dead bodies return to their work
Once more they return to turn the wheel
Once more they return to their ordeal
But since they have nothing to fill full to the brim,
Since the dray can only be empty, their ghostly hymn
Turns once more the sound of the wheel oh so shrill
Thus again are the cogwheels squeaking
As thus again are the dead their way seeking
Up into the tower and back down to the mill
Willing once more to do the girl’s will
But no bones turn to dust, and as sparkles spread
The girl wakes up, and sees working the dead
“Why does the wheel grind?
Why does the stream flow?
Why do I find
That on the dead go?
Oh, Master, help me,
For I do not see how
I must end this, but this must end now!”
Now the girl tries to stop quickly her fiends
Again with the axe their work she intervenes
But this to no avail, and instead the dead
Take hold of her strongly by the hair on her head
As the girl screams, and tries to fight
For her freedom she finds that her plight
Will soon come to an end, as the dead throw
Her into the shaft and push her down below
Now the mill grinds no longer dead bones
But instead the girl, who screams and groans
First come the feet, and see!—there go the legs!
Then the torso is crushed, and as the girl begs
For mercy, which the dead clearly not know
They take now her head, and slowly they go
Into the tomb, from whence they came
For now they and the girl are all the same
Her body gone, the girl still draws breath
As the dead carry her head into the depth
The night has now finally come to a close
As have the spirits, the river town’s ghosts
And when the old wizard returns to his home
He finds that he is now quite alone
And soon understands what has become
Of his young student and the wrong she has done.
“No longer grinds my dear old mill
The river’s stream has come to a still
Now that I find
My student’s dream
To ashes turned
To dust it has burned
Now I must find, and quickly so
A new apprentice—but where to go?”
First the old wizard retrieves the head
From the sturdy clutches of apprentices dead
“Oh, my poor apprentice,” the wizard laments
I regret to say that the events
From which you dreamt were not yours to be
But are your successor’s, ‘tis his destiny
For I’ve come to see that your undoing
Would be rooted in your prideful pursuing
Of power for what you’re not quite prepared yet
And see, you’re gone, but still not quite dead
This is your punishment, your head will serve
As a reminder for those with the nerve
You’ve shown tonight, a reminder for all
That pride comes before certain fall.
On my desk you’ll remain, for evermore,
Now I must go, through the mirror’s door
A new apprentice I must seek to find
So that once more the mill’s wheels can grind.”
And so the old wizard takes up his wand
And sets off once more to the upper land
There Ab’aham in Frigdborgh he finds
A child young still, and in disguise
He lures him away, from his father’s keep
And brings him to his home, where the spirits weep.
   
Category:Poetry
Category:Ghosts
Category:Dismemberment