“But one day – a terrible day – there was a storm.” Mel’s eyes flash and the children squirm in delight at the promise of peril. “And on that terrible day the storm sent a fork of lightning and it struck one of the houses.” At this, Mel reaches again for the flaming branch and touches it to the house on her right – each time making her voice rumble and crackle like thunder and lightning. One child cries out “No!” when he sees the house begin to burn. Flames lick at the twigs and already it begins to teeter. “And on that terrible day the storm sent rain and a flood swept up to the other house.” Mel lifts the bucket and pours what is left of the water around the second twig house. The house falls immediately, and the water runs its way downward – the children shift to let the torrent pass and watch as the sticks that formed the house float down the hill, getting caught up in leaves and grass. One child catches a stick and returns it to Mel as though it might make the whole house come back again.

Mel looks down at her feet and every eye follows. On one side is a pile of charred wood and on the other is a pool with one lone stick lying in it. The children look at Mel with anger and suspicion. Where is the happy ending of the story? Surely there is more to come. Their agitated chatter halts as soon as Mel begins again.

“On this terrible day, fire destroyed one man’s house and water destroyed the other. From that day on, each man made an oath. The man whose house was struck by lightning and burned to the ground vowed that he would never again let fire come close to him or his home. The man whose house was caught in the rain and swept away by a flood swore that he would never again let water come close to him or his home. Each man was determined.

“‘Fire destroys,’ the one man said. ‘Water is deadly,’ said the other. Each one said, ‘Now I am safe.’”

The children start to raise their hands, whimpering with the urge to fix this tale, but Mel carries on.

“It was not long before each man became ill. One man wept because of his thirst but insisted, ‘I will not allow water near me,’ even though his tongue stuck to the roof of his dry mouth. The other man wept from hunger. He had meat and potatoes – indeed his table was laden with food, but he shouted, ‘I will not allow fire near me,’ and so the meat went rancid and the potatoes rotted, and he ate nothing.”

I’m reminded of a dream I once had, a dream where the sisters were in separate cottages and each had what the other needed. I know how this story should end.

Mel picks up the stick that has been left in the deluge and prods at the mud and ash, making a mud-pie mush of the two houses. Making a mess.