BMT Stories (dedicated to Mindy)

Texts of the original stories that make up our work..

Original stories have, over the years, become more and more the heart of Bald Mountain’s mission. We believe in allowing writers to create—without edits—short works that reflect the structure, sensibility, and freedom of fairy and folk tales. Here are texts chosen for our two original story series Full Frontal Fairy Tales and Krampusnacht.

Text from Full Frontal Fairy Tales 2021

A Most Angry Stick by Ethan Bowen

“Filled with rage at the destruction of the forest all those years ago, the stick felt sure that its time would come. And stripped as it was of bark and branch, green and growth, what the stick did have was patience. It had waited for years for the perfect moment, it could wait as long again, if the tree stood.

And there was some concern at that. Large Piliated Woodpeckers had been hammering hard on several rotten areas at the base of the tree, and sap was spouting from lower knot holes; both a sure sign that the strength of the tree was failing. The stick knew that time was limited, and that the opportunity must come soon.

But what could it do? It had no legs, no arms, no voice to shout abuse at the passing “hikers” (Oh, the stick hated that word with its associations of exercise and respect for nature. Invaders, colonizers, murders, those were the real titles). In supreme restraint it held on to the one possibility, the one hope, the one chance. That an invader would come close enough and fall in just such a way as to be injured by the stick.

The stick had imagined the moment many times, and the action had come tantalizingly close several times. The host tree’s many branches were inviting to climb, and several “Hikers” had tried, slipping in such a way to almost fall within the Angry sticks reach. But no, they missed again and again. But soon. Soon."

 

Text from Krampusnacht 2021

The Birth of Krampus by Mindy Branstetter

Detrich feared for his newborn son. He was a strange little thing. His amber-colored eyes were so unusual. The pupils were a strange shape, not exactly round, but more of a horizontal slit. He had two tiny bumps on his skull that his mother would rub to help him fall asleep. Whenever the baby was fussy Detrich’s wife would take him to the barn. One night Detrich quietly followed them to the barn. Peeking through the crack in the barn door, he saw her sitting in the straw, holding the baby, while the billy goat nuzzled the baby’s cheek. A quiet rage began to fill Detrich’s soul.

That winter was a long one. Cold, dark, the wind howled constantly. Detrich struggled with the darkness, the crying baby, the suspicion that was eating away at him because of the strangeness of his son. His wife became more and more distant. She took to sleeping in the barn with the baby.

To view details of the productions of these stories, visit our productions page.