Elemental Grannies: Snippets from Over the Edge of the World, A Fairytale Novel by Elizabeth Cunningham

Introduction: An old woman, Rose begins spinning the tale the children never tire of hearing. Grannies Sweep, Spark, Dirt, and Brine, were old, so old, they forgot who they were and how they came to live where they did: a sheer pinnacle, a walking forest, an old shoe, a ship moored off a hidden shore.

But Rose has never told the whole story—to anyone. The story of a world these children have never seen, where the rich lived inside a vast dome, protected from heat and cold, rain, wind—and hunger. Nor do the children know about madness or cruelty. She has never told them about Noone, the power behind the dome, his obsession with immortality.

If she never tells these stories, who will remember the bravery of the beauty singers who daily risked the ultimate penalty—being thrown over the edge of world. Who will remember the intrepid children who danced defiantly on the dung heaps. If Rose does not tell her own story, who could imagine her birth deep inside the dome, the dangerous secret of her existence. A secret guarded her two huge aunties, once ragged outside boys, who became outrageous bodyguards in towering wigs and heels. To protect the new world and the people she loves, it is time for Rose to tell…

Today I am going to offer snippets, edited for brevity, about the elemental grannies as well as a snatch of song from the Beauty Singers.

Granny Sweep had a broom. She lived so close to the sky, she swept clouds that had gotten stuck on the pinnacle. Granny Sweep had tricky eyes. Sometimes it was hard for her to see out of her right eye, but with her left eye, her wind eye, she could see all the way to the edge of the world. She could see small things, too, bees in the heart of roses, tears catching light. Though she could see over the highest of walls into ramshackle hovels and piecemeal gardens, she could not see inside the vast dome at the center of the walled enclosure. She could not get past its huge, smooth glare. It troubled her. She sometimes wondered if that dome hid her own secrets from her—who she was, how she had gotten to her high pinnacle, or what she was to do about anything. 

The forest where Granny Spark lived was a magic forest. It was the last forest left in that world. Whenever people who wanted to cut down the trees came too close, Granny Spark would sing this song to the trees.

up trees, make your roots strong legs and swift feet
up and away to find new earth, dark and sweet
away, away over the dry and thirsty ground
to a place near or far where we cannot be found

And the trees would hear her, and their great roots would stir, and the whole forest would move, like a cloud shadow over the earth, or a wave over the sea, leaving not a trace, confounding anyone who tried to follow. Such was the magic of the forest, such was the magic of Granny Spark.  

Granny Dirt lived in a shoe. It was not a dainty dance slipper. It was the kind of shoe a farmer would wear, with a thick sole to keep out the damp of the dew, a shoe that could walk through a muddy field and keep a foot dry. The kind of shoe that went right up over an ankle to the shin, a shoe that could be laced up tight or loosened. Granny Dirt was very clever. She not only had laces up the shoe but also a thatched roof at the top. When it looked like rain was coming, her many children would climb up the shoe, grab hold of lace, and jump down, and the boot would close up tight. It was a very big shoe. They say it was once a seven-league boot worn by a giant when giants still walked the earth. No one knew where the other shoe was.  When the people hunters came, Granny Dirt brought all the children inside. And then the shoe shrank and no one saw anything but an old shoe in the mud.

(Rose tells about Granny Brine):

We’ve come to the shore and made a fire of driftwood. The wind is damp. Now and then a cloud covers the moon, a few drops of rain spatter our faces, hiss on the burning wood….

Granny Brine was old, I begin.
“How old?” the children chant.
As old as the sea, maybe older…

…[after a time] the rain starts to fall. The children’s parents gather them up and carry them away to dry beds. I pull my cloak over my head and listen to fire the sputter. And I remember, I remember the edge of the world, miles high, disappearing into cloud at the top and into fog below, mist that shrouded a gleaming temple of bone.

Granny Brine’s secrets.
My secrets. 

Beauty Singers

No one knew who the beauty singers were, or they pretended not to. If a beauty singer was caught, she could be banished over the edge of the world. Yet in the darkest, coldest hour before the stars dimmed, certain women rose from their beds and threaded their way through the streets And as they walked they sang….

To hear the audio file of The Beauty Song click here.

They were singing to the rubbish heaps and to the sky, to the wasteland beyond the wall, to the moon, to the sun that would rise. They sang beauty distilled from dreams. They sang blue rivers of milk from breasts. They sang till the break of heartbreak.

You can purchase a copy of “Over the Edge of the World” at Bookshop.org—the online store who supports independent booksellers. Available as a paperback, ebook or hardback

Elizabeth Cunningham is the author of ten novels, including the award-winning series, The Maeve Chronicles. For more about Elizabeth, visit her website: https://elizabethcunninghamwrites.com/

The music for the Beauty Singers’ song was composed and performed by Ruth Cunningham. For more about Ruth her website: http://www.ruthcunningham.com/