Murder Archive - Thesilée

Call Me Evil (Tymur’s Song)

When I was eight, I touched a scroll that held a demon’s soul.
From that day on, my life was changed: I feel it made me whole.
I do not feel what others feel, such things as grief or pain,
but still I find much joy in life, like leaving bodies slain.

So if you call me evil
You’re absolutely right.
But mind that you don’t mention it
If I’m in line of sight.
For once I’ve got you on my list
I’ll come for you at night:
Though there’s a noose around my neck,
It never will draw tight.

I wear my mask, my handsome face, so folks like me around.
I chitter-chatter pleasantly, joke that I’ll ne’er be crowned,
Since I was born the youngest son, fifth prince of princes five.
And yet my brothers better run before I take their live.

My dream’s to slay the sorceress who can’t bleed or be killed:
One needs ambitious goals in live to make sure one grows skilled.… Weiterlesen

Kleine Frau Marie

Mutter, laß mich nicht allein!
Ich mag nicht im Dunklen sein.
Leg ein weißes Tuch um mich,
sonst schlaf ich nicht ein.

Vierundzwanzig Kinder, jung und fein, spielten Ball im Park.
Mit dabei war die kleine Frau Marie, sie war hübsch und stark.
Sie warf den Ball so hoch hinaus, sie warf den Ball so flach,
und bei dem schwarzen schwarzen Schloß fiel er übers Dach.

Eine schöne Dame trat heraus, sie trug ein schwarz Gewand.
»Hol dir deinen Ball, kleine Marie, komm, nimm meine Hand!«
»Ich will nicht mit, ich komm nicht mit, alleine nicht erst recht!
Weil«s von euch heißt, Ihr seid sein Geist, Ihr seid bös und schlecht.«

Mutter, laß mich nicht allein!
Ich mag nicht im Dunklen sein.
Leg ein weißes Tuch um mich,
sonst schlaf ich nicht ein.

Sie nahm das Mädchen bei der weißen Handund führte es hinfort,
in einen Raum aus schwarzem schwarzem Stein, totenstill war’s dort.
Sie setzte es auf einen güldnen Stuhl, sie gab ihm süßes Brot,
sie nahm ein Messer, lang und scharf, und stach das Mädchen tot.

Dickes Blut floß dunkelrot hervor, dünnes Blut floß hell,
Herzensblut floß rein, so rein, tot war das Mädchen schnell.
Sie packte es am weißen weißen Fuß, es lag als ob es schlief,
sie warf es in den Brunnenschacht, siebzehn Klafter tief.… Weiterlesen

Cruel Sister 2.0

There was a company at Berkley Square.
– Lay the bent to the bonnie broom –
Two lovely sisters laboured there.
– Fa la la la la la la la la la –

As one grew dark as it’s the night,
– Lay the bent to the bonnie broom –
the younger bleached her hair all bright.
– Fa la la la la la la la la la –

As one worked hard to earn her bread,
– Lay the bent to the bonnie broom –
the younger shared the owner’s bed.
– Fa la la la la la la la la la –

He told her she was his only love,
– Lay the bent to the bonnie broom –
but made the other head of staff.
– Fa la la la la la la la la la –

The younger said: »That cannot be!
– Lay the bent to the bonnie broom –
The chief clerk’s desk was meant for me!«
– Fa la la la la la la la la la –

She told her sister: »O lucky you!
– Lay the bent to the bonnie broom –
Your office has a lovely view.«
– Fa la la la la la la la la la –

Then, with her sister by her side,
– Lay the bent to the bonnie broom –
walked to the window opened wide.… Weiterlesen

My Paper Gown

They dressed me in a paper gown
and then they locked the door.
In a windowless, tableless, chairless room
all I could do was stare at the floor.
They cut all my hair so I won’t use a strand
as the string that would set myself free:
They took from me all means to take my own life
so that they in the end could kill me.

Let me just have a pen and some ink to write
all the words that no one can see.
But a pen is a sword
and my wish is ignored
and my gown remains empty like me.

I knew my babes were innocent,
they were too young to die.
But when I went to part this world
their souls I first let fly.
They slept on the backseat, did not feel a thing
when my car was engulfed by the waves
Yet when I felt the waters that crept up my shins
there was something that urged to be saved.

Let me just have a pen and some ink to write
all the words that no one can see.
But a pen is a sword
and my wish is ignored
and my gown remains empty like me.… Weiterlesen

My Best Friend’s Blood

I could not kill you, brother, your blood I cannot shed
I’ll never rip your heart out and still I wish you dead
If we would ever meet again, I’d fight with gun, with knife
there’ll never be a chance again for me to take your life.

you once have been my brother, your blood runs in my vein
so if I bring myself to death, you are the one who’s slain
I’ll gladly slit my wrists for you, if only you will bleed
I would have loved to take your life, but nevermore we’ll meet

pray do you feel it thumping?
pray do you feel the pain?
your blood is running down my hands
your blood is red as rain

look here this edge is dripping, the floor is turning wet
the light is growing darker, I feel I’m turning dead
but it is not as if I die, that thing is up to you
for since you took my life away, it’s all that I can do

pray do you feel it thumping?
pray do you feel the pain?
your blood is running down my hands
your blood is red as rain

pray do you feel it thumping?
pray do you feel the pain?… Weiterlesen

Mistress Alma’s Children

O Mistress Alma’s children, two girls aged two and three,
have closed their eyes forever, the sun no more to see,
have closed their eyes forever, the sun no more to see,

It was their wicked mother, them of their lives bereft:
She shed their blood, but shed no tear upon this wicked theft,
but burned them by the oven’s flames till nought of them was left.

She next began to weep and wail, and through the streets she’d run,
she cried: »O come and help me, please, my children, they are gone!«
She cried: »O come and help me, please, my children, they are gone!«

»There came three elves from outland, three elves came to my door.
They sang a song so sweet and cold, it chilled me to the core,
they’ve robbed me of my children, I’ll see my babes no more!«

The people in the village, they thought her story true,
for stealing fair young children is what all elves love to do.
For stealing fair young children is what all elves love to do.

And even Alma’s husband would still believe his wife
He thought not that the ashes cold once burned with children’s life,
and as all folks did pity her, the murderess could strife.… Weiterlesen

Lady Tree

Down in the ground beneath the roots of yonder tree
her bones lie buried deep, for no man’s eyes to see…
He would not love her half as much as he loved gold,
and she would never do whatever she was told:
He had to kill her, that’s one thing he won’t regret:
No one will find her in her earthen bed.

Tree, tree, Lady Tree,
– hide my secret where none may seek it –
Tree, tree, Lady Tree
– grow my shape for all to see!

The years went by, and yet the lady found no rest –
Killed by the man whom in her life she’d loved the best.
Her spirit touched the tree that grew upon her grave:
If not for justice, then for vengeance she did grave.
The years went by and by, and as the tree did grow,
the lady’s features it would start to show.

Tree, tree, Lady Tree,
– hide my secret where none may seek it –
Tree, tree, Lady Tree
– grow my shape for all to see!

And then his friends would come and talk about the tree:
»Is it not strange? The thing looks like a girl to me.«… Weiterlesen

Die Kinder der Frau Alma

Die Kinder der Frau Alma, zwei Mädchen, blond und fein,
die waren erst drei Jahre alt, zum Sterben viel zu klein.
die waren erst drei Jahre alt, zum Sterben viel zu klein.

Doch ihre Mutter Alma war böse ganz und gar:
Sie brachte ihre Kinder um, als ihr Mann auswärts war,
und legt sie in den Küchenherd bis nichts mehr übrig war.

Dann lief sie aus dem Hause und durch den ganzen Ort
und rief: »Ihr Leute, helft mir schnell, die Kinder holt man fort!
und rief: »Ihr Leute, helft mir schnell, die Kinder holt man fort!

Grad sah ich Elfen kommen, es waren ihrer drei,
sie gingen einfach in mein Haus, als ob das gar nichts sei,
und flogen bald schon wieder weg, die Kinder warn dabei.«

Die Nachbarn der Frau Alma, sie glaubten dieser Mär,
denn Elfen holen Kinder fort und geben sie nicht her.
denn Elfen holen Kinder fort und geben sie nicht her.

Und auch Frau Almas Gatte, der glaubte seiner Frau
und sah nicht in den Kücherherd, der jetzt war kalt und grau.
Und keiner sagte: »Das war Mord!« – Frau Alma war zu schlau.

Jedoch am nächsten Morgen, ihr Mann war wieder aus,
da standen schlank und hold und schön drei Elfen vor dem Haus.… Weiterlesen