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Kleist, Heinrich von

The Beggarwoman of Locarno

This morning, as with all mornings, I took She Who Must Bark At The Most Inconvenient Times on an early morning walk, which, given the several feet of snow on the ground (read: a few inches), was less an “early morning walk” than a “mighty difficult time staying afoot for the bipedal member of the walking party, as the bipedal-squared one trounced happily and darted into snowbanks and tried her best to cause the amputation of the fingers on my icicly leash-bearing hand.”

This morning, as with all mornings, I took She Who Must Bark At The Most Inconvenient Times on an early morning walk, which, given the several feet of snow on the ground (read: a few inches), was less an “early morning walk” than a “mighty difficult time staying afoot for the bipedal member of the walking party, as the bipedal-squared one trounced happily and darted into snowbanks and tried her best to cause the amputation of the fingers on my icicly leash-bearing hand.” And as I was trying both to preserve all my fingers and my stance (literally), it hit me that really, I ought to buy a sleigh and let the beast walk me for a change. And then, immediately following this thought, it hit me with horror: snow. Sleighride fantasies. Fresh fingersnaps. It’s holiday time.

And then I shuddered with enough ferocity to send beads of ice crystalled cold sweat from my brow and thought: I know what I need to get me in the holiday spirit– a glass of warm milk, a stocking by the fireplace, and just a little Teutonic Gothic Horror.

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By miette

Miette has been podcasting the best of world literature's short fiction since March 2005, when she was just a pup.

2 replies on “The Beggarwoman of Locarno”

It’s snowing lightly here in Canada. Like small memories I gazed up at each snowflake while sitting by the fireplace, with my Rio Carbon in my other hand. And while listening to Kleist, via yourself, I looked up from the orangy warm room and into the cold blue of the sky, and wondered if maybe where ever you resided, you could catch my feeling of thanks.

I just stumbled upon your log yesterday and I enjoyed listening to this story last night, laying nice and warm in bed while snow putting a white blanket over Holland. Thank you for your bedtime story 😉

I am your new fan 🙂

thank you from the cold and snowy Netherlands

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