Guess What? Time for Another Story

Story time, this time I'll try to be more imaginative, which I doubt will happen because my thoughts all end up in the same place: out of my mushy brain, I was going for something else right there but it didn't happen. oops. Today I was told that I am like rosemary, maybe it's my love of cooking that brought people to this conclusion, though I think I like thyme better, just the word reminds me of pretty things and long summer days eating brie in parks. Also it reminds me of ballads I used to sing as a kid when life was simple and straight forward and you didn't have internal mind debates in your brain that make your eyeballs feel like they are gonna pop out of your head, but you all know the ballad? Are you going to Scarborough fair. Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme. Remember me to one who lives there. Who once was a true love of mine.

I was once baby sitting and they had this song book that I grew up with sitting on their piano. I was bored and waiting for them to get back, and flipped through all of ballads (they are all together) and I knew all of them, and mostly they were all about the same thing; true love dying. It would appear that that is the style of the English, Irish songs, but I think it says something about our culture as a whole.
ooh remember that one song:

In Scarlet town where I was born
There was a fair maid dwelling
And every youth cried well away
For her name was Barbara Allen

Twas in the merry month of May
The green buds were a swelling
Sweet William on his deathbed lay
For the love of Barbara Allen

He sent a servant unto her
To the place she was dwelling
Saying you must come to his deathbed now
If your name be Barbara Allen

Slowly slowly got she up
Slowly slowly she came nigh him
And the only words to him she said
Young man I think you're dying

As she was walking oer the fields
She heard the death bell knelling
And every stroke it seemed to say
Hardhearted Barbara Allen

Oh mother mother make my bed
Make it long and make it narrow
Sweet William died for me today
I'll die for him tomorrow

They buried her in the old churchyard
They buried him beside her
And from his grave grew a red red rose
From her grave a briar

They grew and grew to the steeple top
Till they could grow no higher
And there they twined in a true love's knot
Red rose around briar

oh, how love prevails. I don't believe in soul mates but it does give me happiness that sometimes others do.
I was supposed to write a story, not some shitty angst heap with a rose growing out of it.
So a story.
uhhhhh
Once upon a time there was a beautiful woman who the whole community adored and was the town's princess. Most of the men pinned after her, and all the women wished they were her. Though even though they were jealous of her no one could hate her because she was so kind and smart. Among these "fans" lets call them, was one lonely girl who disliked this woman, on the sole reason that this woman did not pay attention to her like she did others.

to be continued? I guess???

Nomes