With velveteen curtains and a table of gold sat an old hag with stories untold. Kids scurried along the marble path as they escaped her ferocious shihtzu dog. Filthy men passed one-liners about her polished growl. She played hoarse music on her platinum harp and sang along verses of outcasts’ tarp. She read out loud stories banned by the elders in the ancient market. She lured and polluted little children’s minds with her ideas and little schemes. Yet the townsfolk let that damsel stay, for she was an old hag who could do magic. With their minds did the magic play. The populace attempted to play with her tragic mind in the hope that they could do magic too.