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The Twa Sisters

I didn’t kill her.

What I mean to say is, it wasn’t me who pushed my younger sister into the river to to meet a watery grave. In fact, I didn’t want her die at all – but minstrels still insist in adding me in the ballad as the evil, jealous older sister who murdered her sister out of spite.

But I’ll tell you something, if you’re willing to listen.

My sister killed herself.

It’s true. I saw it myself.

I saw her propel her self into the water, her golden hair flying about her. I reached out to grab her, to save her – but I was too late. With horror, I saw my beloved sister fall down into the watery spine, when only moments she was on the cliff’s edge.

Down, down, down she went. I couldn’t bear to look at the end.

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