Oh ** ** what have we here, deary?
A trembling soul, a wish so weary.
You’ve come to strike a clever deal,
To bend the grave, to break the seal.
You clutch your sorrow, cold and tight,
And beg me steal them from the night.
Oh ** ** such fragile pleas—
You think death yields to whims like these?
Magic, deary, always takes,
It never gives without mistakes.
Each thread you pull, each fate you spin,
Demands a price beneath the skin.
Oh ** ** now listen clear,
For truth is sharper than your fear:
A life for life, the balance sworn,
One must fade for one reborn.
You want their breath, their voice, their name?
Then something else must feed the flame.
Oh deary… don’t pretend surprise,
You knew all magic has its price.
So tell me, deary… what will pay?
What soul will fade so theirs may stay?
Your beating heart? Your lover’s breath?
All roads you choose still walk through death.
Oh ** ** I see it now—
That hesitation in your vow.
Grief makes you bold, but not for long,
Not when the cost is set in song.
Oh deary, deary… sign it true,
And I will do as you would do.
But first the price is rendered due—
The cost is dreary…
But don’t weep, deary.
Apr 17
Apr 17, 2026 at 2:14 PM UTC
Oh ** ** what have we here, deary?
A trembling soul, a wish so weary.
You’ve come to strike a clever deal,
To bend the grave, to break the seal.
You clutch your sorrow, cold and tight,
And beg me steal them from the night.
Oh ** ** such fragile pleas—
You think death yields to whims like these?
Magic, deary, always takes,
It never gives without mistakes.
Each thread you pull, each fate you spin,
Demands a price beneath the skin.
Oh ** ** now listen clear,
For truth is sharper than your fear:
A life for life, the balance sworn,
One must fade for one reborn.
You want their breath, their voice, their name?
Then something else must feed the flame.
Oh deary… don’t pretend surprise,
You knew all magic has its price.
So tell me, deary… what will pay?
What soul will fade so theirs may stay?
Your beating heart? Your lover’s breath?
All roads you choose still walk through death.
Oh ** ** I see it now—
That hesitation in your vow.
Grief makes you bold, but not for long,
Not when the cost is set in song.
Oh deary, deary… sign it true,
And I will do as you would do.
But first the price is rendered due—
The cost is dreary…
But don’t weep, deary.
Author’s Note
Written in the voice of the trickster Rumpelstiltskin, this piece explores the seductive danger of bargaining with forces beyond human control. The taunting, sing-song cadence mirrors how grief can make impossible choices feel reasonable. Each rhyme reinforces the idea that magic is transactional—every wish demands a cost. At its core, it questions what we are truly willing to sacrifice when loss convinces us that any price is worth paying.
