Recorded live in Devon, England. Please note, this a live telling of the story, not a reading from the book of the same title.
A Hebridean folk tale talking directly to our times.
There is a worm:
the muckle-mester Stoor Worm
the serpent of Missgarrd
coiled like a hateful rope around this world.
The worm yawns
and salt-drifts of wave assault the bright corn.
It breathes out
and blonde hills become black feathers, ash piles, charred memory.
Its vast head has moved north, its scaled mass is just a few miles off shore.
The death of this curse asks a high price.
A version of this story can be found in Cinderbiter: Celtic Poems by Martin Shaw & Tony Hoagland.
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