Blue Beard

Everyone in the village knows the story of Blue Beard. Once, he was a highly skilled

baker. His namesake came from the permanent blue hue his beard had acquired over time

making his specialty blueberry muffins. The townsfolk were quite obsessed with his sweets, and

often the line from Blue Beard’s Bakery extended well into the street. One day, a wandering

merchant visited Blue Beard, and requested a special recipe be made for her to pick up the next

day. The woman specified that she would like a batch of Blue Beard’s most famous blueberry

muffins, only, she wanted them to be made with specialty blueberries she had dropped off

herself. The only other request was that the muffins were not to be tasted by anyone before she

had picked them up. The woman left the bakery leaving behind a small pouch of berries. Blue

Beard scooped them up and got straight to work. He had made this same recipe thousands of

times so it did not take long for the muffin batter to be assembled. Blue Beard added the last

ingredient, the seemingly average berries left by the merchant woman, and placed the batter

inside the oven to bake. Before they could even finish baking, Blue Beard could tell these would

be the best muffins he’s made to date. The smell became so enticing, Blue Beard could hardly

wcontain hus excitement! Finally, he took them out and examined his work. 12 of the most

perfectly cooked aromatic blueberry muffins. Blue Beard stared longingly over his creation for

some time, remembering the request from the mysterious woman. “Surely a small taste couldn’t

hurt, after all, this is my best work to date!” thought Blue Beard. Reluctantly he reached for a

muffin. He brought it to his mouth and took a large bite. And then another. And another. Before

he knew it the first muffin was gone. It was the BEST thing he had ever tasted, and he was going

to have more. One, two, three muffins eaten. Before long, the baker had only an empty tray.

Before he had time to realize what he had done, he began to feel a strange sensation in his ears.
Suddenly, they shot out of his head, growing long and pointy. His ears and hair began to turn

green, and he assumed a terrifying grimace. “A witch!” he screamed. “Those blueberries were

cursed by a witch!”. Blue Beard burst out of his shop and ran into the forest shrieking. He never

returned to his bakery, and the strange woman was never seen again. Since that day, whenever

the villagers leave pastries unattended to cool on their window sills, they mysteriously disappear,

and the faint smell of blueberries emanates from the woods...