Roundtable with 4 Myrtas

Cast of characters:

Myrtas:

Gillian Murphy
Simone Messmer
Michele Wiles
Veronika Part


Myrta Part: I have called you all together for one reason and one reason only. We must become a unified front. Some of you are starting to stray from your resolve. Remember what our mission is!

Myrta Messmer: I do remember. I’m trying to be all I’m supposed to be! It’s very hard to do, though. Sometimes I recall my softer side…but I always catch myself in time!

Myrta Wiles: I know…. my mind wanders, too, and lets an old memory drift in, especially when I’m standing still while we’re in the middle of forcing a scoundrel to dance to his death. The only way I regain control is by letting the invasive thoughts out through my fingers. I face away from the action – I’m standing to the side anyway, so no one will notice – and, while my arms are crossed signaling no mercy, my fingertips wave the bad thoughts away. If I just keep my fingers moving I’m back to myself in no time.

Myrta Murphy: That’s the silliest thing I ever heard! Where’s your willpower? We can’t waver, not for a second! Every move we make is purposeful. We stand tough, especially against our own thoughts. Myrta does not ruminate! If ever I feel an idea coming on, I become a zombie and go on automatic pilot!

Myrta Part: I am not a zombie. I have a soul. I was once a beautiful woman who danced on the earth before being scorned. I died of a broken heart and turned into a Wili. I will never be scorned again. My movements intrigue as they connive. My allure is the magic that keeps our victims from running off into the forest. They know they are doomed as soon as they set foot in my glade. I rule that clearing! Every fiber of my essence permeates it.

Myrta Messmer: We have so much to learn from you.

Myrta Wiles: I am convinced that my way is just as valid. What about dharma? Must we completely abandon all concern for others? The men that we doom have an eternal life force, too. I find it best not to think about them while they are suffering. There is still a part of me that lives in the past. I admit I felt relief when the bells began to chime.

Myrta Murphy: So, you pretend not to know what’s going on right behind your back. You are aware of what is happening, but you won’t look at it. We all face away, but me, I’m gloating the whole time. It feels good!

Myrta Messmer: I steel myself during that stance and hope that that steeliness shows in my face. I’ve got to show Moyna and Zulma – they’re so young, especially Zulma! – who are standing right beside me, what I am made of. It’s about setting a good example.

Myrta Part: It’s about one thing and one thing only: Power. I am Queen of the Wilis! I am perfect. There is no warmth in perfection. I have no concern for any suitor who stumbles into our realm. I have no feelings for Moyna or Zulma. My only goal is the death of every rogue who appears before me.

Myrta Messmer: I believe I achieved this single-mindedness when it really counted, as Hilarion and then Albrecht came to Giselle’s grave. I felt the power. I will be stronger from the outset from now on. Be warned, the next man who enters here!

Myrta Part: You were already aggressive at the beginning of the night they came. You hurled those fern branches into the woods with amazing velocity. What an arc they made! You dedicated the glade to its solitary purpose with a strong, defiant gesture.

Myrta Wiles: But I saw you get soft in your first dance….there was a moment -- when you swooped low to the ground – that I glimpsed a yearning. It was as if you wanted to caress the earth one last time.

Myrta Murphy: That’s right. I saw that, too! It’s almost as if you kissed the ground. Me, I feel no connection to my past life at all! I love being queen. The power surges through me like lightning – it makes me jump higher, change direction in the air with cutting clarity, explode forward in thrusting leaps. At the stroke of midnight, I feel let loose. I skim above the firmament with superpowered drive. I am home!

Myrta Part: You have feet like hummingbird wings. Your bourrées are indeed supernatural.

Now, back to work. I hear the rustle of an approaching swain.