In this part of the world, nobody forgets

My housemates were hoping that none of Neil Gaiman's short stories would be adapted to the big screen, and I couldn't agree more. The celluloid version of "Stardust" was a romp, but it lacked the ethereal charm that would define Gaiman's works. Then again, the author co-produced Matthew Vaughn's film. He knew about the changes.

I believed "The Witch's Headstone" would be Gaiman's best works, even if my housemates disagreed with me. They fell for the ghoulish delight that set the Sandman series from the rest of Gaiman's works. I was uneasy about it especially the part where Orpheus was torn and devoured by the nameless wanderers off the plain near the entrance to the Underworld. And losing Eurydice wasn't enough. "The Witch's Headstone," which came from "Dark Alchemy: Magical Tales from Masters of Modern Fantasy" (2007), would confirm the fact that witches (and warlocks) have lived in the human imagination for centuries. Peter had mixed feelings about the compilation, pointing out that most of the shorts have a first good half before it faded after the midpoint. And he didn't like the Hallmark lines on the final page of some shorts. He would have a point, but I thought Gaiman's was the exception. It wouldn't be an objective assessment, though.

Nobody Owens is nobody's fool

Bod was an obedient boy, as he was told not to play in certain parts of the town. His elders pointed a part of the hill, which was unholy ground. An accident took place, and Fate must have intended it. Bod was fond of picking ripe apples from trees, and it happened that one brought him to the very end of a branch. A snap led to a fall. He had a broken leg, but a certain Elizabeth Hempstock healed his injury.

She was the young witch that Bod's elders had warned him about, who cursed her town mates for torturing (and killing) her. And her spirit lingered for a month (before a plague wiped off the population). Gaiman used the Salem witch trials as his background of this short story, but he would intertwine it with other genres. It was also a morality tale, which was a popular genre during the sixteenth century. There was an unlawful element, which was typical in Western stories. And Gaiman put a sentimental touch in the final pages of this tale. It didn't dampen it.

My housemates thought that "The Witch's Headstone" might have been better if Liz Hempstock would seek revenge on the current inhabitants of the town. They may have seen too many scary stories. Bod witnessed a good deed. He figured out to repay it, but he realized that it was the thought that would count. And he had to go through a lot of trouble to figure it out. There was a side story involving the snake stone, which was believed to come from antiquity. It might have been a stolen relic from an ancient kingdom in the Far East, which was brought to Europe. And it found its way to New England. Could this be the stone that put the town on an eternal curse? Maybe. But Gaiman didn't want to distract the readers from Bod's quest to right a wrong.

Readers who shared Gaiman's penchant for the unnatural would be curious about the whereabouts of the snake stone. And Gaiman didn't disappoint it. They would recall the game of hide-and-seek. My housemates may be too old for this kind of play, but I won't be one of them. After all, some of Gaiman's characters display a sense of childish wonder. They haven't outgrown it. I don't need to tell my housemates about it, though.