hag o’ the gump

there was a woman in the village of St Just everyone knew as The Hag. She had another name once, but nobody could remember what it was.

Some of the old folk said she’d been a pretty young thing once, but when she came into possession of some gold that had been her undoing. She was obsessed by her gold and lived alone, convinced that everyone wanted to steal it. She dressed in rags. Her stockings were full of holes and her toes poked through the ends of her hobnail boots. Her black raggedy skirt was sewn together from patches. She wore a tatty old hat that had once been red but now was grey. And she grew old and toothless and still she held tight to her gold. Not far from the village was The Gump – an old weather beaten hill that looked like any other. Nothing grew there except a few scraggly gorse bushes. And nothing lived there except a few scraggly grey sheep. ButtherewasmoretoTheGumpthanfirstmettheeye. Little People lived inside it – the St Justers called them Spriggans. Every autumn, on the Harvest Moon, the Spriggans came out of The Gump to hold a tremendous feast. The old grandmothers of St Just told their grandchildren: ‘The Spriggans are kind-hearted and will share their gold with those who deserve it. But woe betide anyone who tries to steal it, for the curse of The Gump will be upon them.’

The Magic Almanac Hag O’The Gump

The Magic Almanac Hag O’The Gump

The Hag was too old and too in love with gold to pay any attention to old women’s stories – she wanted the Spriggans’ trea-sure all for herself. So when the Harvest Moon hung in the sky like a giant orange lantern, The Hag set out to The Gump. Before she left, she checked and double checked and triple and quadru-ple checked that her gold was safe in its hiding place. Outonthemoors,astrangemusicfilledtheair.Asthenotes turned from slow and sad to quick and bright, tears welled in The Hag’s eyes, and smiles tugged at her lips. On more than one occasion she was compelled to dance in time to the music, her old hobnail boots tapping and twirling without her having any control over them. Anyone looking across the moors to The Gump that night would have seen a black silhouette wheeling and whirling across the Harvest Moon. As The Hag got closer, the music seemed to be coming from inside The Gump itself. There was a great boom of drums and The Gump cracked open. A forest of tiny lights twinkled all around. Each blade of grass was lit with a tiny lantern. The Hag hid behind a rock and watched. Hundreds of Spriggans climbed up out of The Gump on little ladders. Their brightbannersflewabovetheirheadseventhoughtherewasn’tabreathofwind.Sprigganmusiciansplayedbramblefiddlesandmouse-skin drums and seashells strung like harps.

Hag O’The GumpThe Magic Almanac

As the Hag watched, a big group of ugly looking Spriggans formed a large circle around her. A bumble bee hovered beside each Spriggan. The Hag thought, Hah! They’re no taller than my bootlaces, if they try to cause me any mischief I shall squish them all! She rubbed her hands together and thought about the gold.

A beautiful banquet was set out on glittering tables. Exotic foods glistened on silver platters and a sea of candles twinkled on every table. The air was sweet with blossom as Spriggan children sprin-kled the ground with tiny petals that instantly took root and sproutedintoflowers.

Thefiddlersplayedfaster,thedrummersplayedlouderandthelittle people began to sing. Their voices rang out clear as silver bells in the autumn night. Light burst from The Gump and out came the prince and princess in a blaze of jewels, carried high on little golden thrones.

By now The Gump was covered with hundreds and thousands of Spriggans. As the prince and princess took their seats at the top table, the Spriggans all moved as one and were seated. The Hag thought, Hah! and rubbed her hands together. She began to make her way very slowly and quietly toward the prince and princess.

The Hag was left alone on The Gump. She lay still as could be, unable even to blink as the Harvest Moon shed golden light into her eyes. At daybreak, the tiny threads that bound her sparkled gold in the morning dew, then melted away in the sunlight.

This was as close to the Spriggans’ gold as The Hag was ever going to get.

No one knows for sure what The Hag saw or heard on The Gump thatnight,butassoonasshecouldwalk,shefled,notevenstop-ping to collect her precious gold from St Just.

The Magic Almanac Hag O’The Gump

The Hag dragged herself along on her elbows through the dirt. She was so intent on claiming her prize that she didn’t no-tice the circle of Spriggans cast tiny, silken threads over her like a spiderweb. She slithered like an adder to a dark spot behind the prince and princess. Their golden crowns shone in the candle-light. The Hag whipped the grubby hat from her head and, as if abouttocatchabutterfly,shewenttosnatchuptheprinceandprincess. Just as she was about to claim her prize, there was a shrill whistle in her ears and The Hag’s hand froze in mid-air. Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! A buzzing whirred around her. The Spriggans’ bumble bees pulled the silken threads tight and she tumbled to the bottom of the hill. She tried to move every whichway, but she couldn’t move a muscle. Tiny feet ran all over her body. One pair pitter-pattered all the way up her chest, over her chin and up on to the tip of her nose. Standing there, his golden cap lit up by the moon, was a tiny Spriggan with a wild look in his eye. He began to jump up and down and dance on The Hag’s nose, laughing with delight. When his jig was done, he shouted, ‘Away, away, I smell the day!’ AtthistheSpriggansandalltheirfineryandgoldswiftlyand silently disappeared back down inside the hill. The Gump closed behind them with a sound like thunder and it was a deso-late hill once more.

The Magic Almanac Hag O’The Gump

The Hag ran and ran, trying to get as far away from The Gump and the Spriggans and their gold as she could. But no mat-ter how far she ran or which direction she took, in the end the path always led her back to the same place, The Gump. Every year at Harvest Moon, anyone looking across the moors will see her black silhouette wheel and whirl in the moon-light.Astrangemusicfillstheair.Asthenotesturnfromslowandsadtoquickandbright,tearsflowdowntheHag’scheeks,and laughter cackles from her lips. Her old hobnail boots tap and twirl, her arms and legs jerk as if moved by unseen strings. The Hag O’ The Gump is cursed to dance forever to the Spriggans’ tunes.