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.
She is the only one to tell if truly I’m possessed
So I’ll make sure that no one knows, and killing is the best.

I’m gathering a band of goons to set out on my quest
And have them quarrel day and night about who loves me best.
Just to make sure they’ll never see what lurks behind my eyes
For the first one to call me out will be the next who dies.

A song about Tymur Damarel, prince, chatterbox and assassin,
one of the main characters in my novel »Das gefälschte Siegel« (»The Counterfeit Sigil«)

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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.

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

Translated for use in the collaborative novel »Die Öbba«

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German lyrics © 1995 by Thesilée
Adaption of the song »Little Sir Hugh« (trad.)

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.
– Fa la la la la la la la la la –

As they stood there, that blond-bleached lout,
– Lay the bent to the bonnie broom –
she threw her elder sister out.
– Fa la la la la la la la la la –

She watched her sister float the air
– Lay the bent to the bonnie broom –
And hit the ground at Berkley Square.
– Fa la la la la la la la la la –

»Your job and office will be mine!«
– Lay the bent to the bonnie broom –
She got them both, which was all fine.
– Fa la la la la la la la la la –

Two kids did walk along the town
– Lay the bent to the bonnie broom –
And saw the maiden falling down.
– Fa la la la la la la la la la –

Her corpse was stiffening, growing hard.
– Lay the bent to the bonnie broom –
They robbed her of her credit card.
– Fa la la la la la la la la la –

The went into a Comtech™ store
– Lay the bent to the bonnie broom –
And bought computer stuff and more.
– Fa la la la la la la la la la –

Then they wrote software which was great,
– Lay the bent to the bonnie broom –
made all of Windows™’ glory fade.
– Fa la la la la la la la la la –

It was bought by the sister’s company
– Lay the bent to the bonnie broom –
and got installed on her PC.
– Fa la la la la la la la la la –

But as she switched her computer on,
– Lay the bent to the bonnie broom –
the printer printed all alone.
– Fa la la la la la la la la la –

First page in blue these words did show:
– Lay the bent to the bonnie broom –
The chief clerk did her sister throw.
– Fa la la la la la la la la la –

The second page, in letters red
– Lay the bent to the bonnie broom –
said: Soon the murderess will be dead.
– Fa la la la la la la la la la –

Third page said NOW!, all printed black.
– Lay the bent to the bonnie broom –
The murderess fell and broke her neck.
– Fa la la la la la la la la laaaaa –

An old story in a new light: Seriously, a harp made of hair and bones would be kind of gross, wouldn’t it?

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Lyrics © 1999 by Thesilée
Tune: »Cruel Sister« (trad.)

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.

My lawyer claims I’ve lost my mind
he says I’m not to blame.
And each man paid to save my neck
would likely do the same.
Yet never he asks why I did what I’ve done
for committing such heinous a crime
I pray they could just let me end what I started –
instead, they are playing for time.

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.

The prosecutor wants my head,
with which I would gladly part.
How can someone as bad as me
still have a beating heart?
But all time till the trial starts,
if e’ver the day I’ll see,
here in purgatory I am trapped
forced to live, and yet worse, forced to be.

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.

Inspired by an American criminal case from the 1990s: Suicidal remand prisoners were given paper clothes so that they could not hang themselves before the trial.

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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?
your blood is running down my hands
your blood is red as rain …

Created for a role-playing character who was a pop singer –
this dark song was supposed to be his big comeback after a drug binge and suicide attempt.

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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.

But early the next morning when at home alone she’d stay,
three elves did knock at Alma’s door and would not go away.
Three elves did knock at Alma’s door and would not go away.

The first said: »Mistress Alma, the folks believed when you
Said that we stole your children, but you know it is not true.
You know quite well that lying is a wicked thing to do.«

The next said: »Mistress Alma, you murdered them yourself,
and murder is an evil crime not like by men nor elf.
And murder is an evil crime not like by men nor elf.«

The third said: »Mistress Alma, now reach to us your hand.
We have no like for lies like that, I’m sure you’ll understand.«
They left, and Mistress Alma since was seen in no man’s land.

The German version of this song is »Die Kinder der Frau Alma«

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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.«
»Her shapes and features just reming me of Madeleyne.«
»Ain’t it a pitty that she’s no where to be seen…«
He listened helplessly, afraid that they could know:
O that deceitful tree would have to go!

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

He rose next day, that night had brought no sleep, no rest:
To knock that tree right down would simply be the best!
But when he reached the spot where once the grave had been
there was no trunk, no tree – sheer nothing to be seen.
He froze in horror, cruel fear took o’er his mind.
Than hands of leaves would reach out from behind…

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

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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.
da standen schlank und hold und schön drei Elfen vor dem Haus.

Die Erste sprach: »Frau Alma, das Volk hat Euch geglaubt,
als Ihr erklärt, wir hätten frech die Kinder Euch geraubt.
Doch das war Lüge, gute Frau, und die ist nicht erlaubt.«

Die Zweite sprach: »Frau Alma, Ihr selber schlugt sie tot,
und auch das Morden, gute Frau, verbietet ein Gebot.«
und auch das Morden, gute Frau, verbietet ein Gebot.«

Die Dritte sprach: »Frau Alma, ihr müßt jetzt mit uns gehn.
Wir mögen solche Lügen nicht, das müßt Ihr doch verstehn.«
Sie gingen, und Frau Alma ward seitdem nie mehr gesehn.

The English version of this song is »Mistress Alma’s Children«

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