The Legend of Twisk

I was writing a chapter for book 11. One of the characters has what I call a Twisk moment: the ability to be immensely happy one moment and believe the world will explode the next. She said Twisk moments should be Frewyn legend. Perhaps they are.

The Legend of Twisk

                Once, in times past, there was a young woman of little consequence who believed the world was ending every other moment. She would see something she loved and instantly believed it would be crushed by a belligerent god or accidently destroyed by herself. Here was a woman to be feared, for everything she believed was true. She believed in the magic of elves, the might of giants, nay, even the powers of clairvoyance were at her behest. Many feared her, believing she was herself one of the gods, as everything she commanded as true was so.

                She skipped along the Frewyn countryside, happy one moment, in fear of her life the next, picking flowers with gaiety and then succumbing to tears over the notion that she had killed the very flower in her hand by plucking it from it stalk. "O flower," she cried, "How beautiful thou art. But, lo! I have ruined thy beauty forever."

                Such were the musings of this one small being and such were her eternal dismays. She passed into Frewyn legend along with the gods and those who knew her called her Twisk, the Frewyn word for She Who Worries. It is believed that every Frewyn woman is a descendant of the perplexing creature, for it is the business of every woman to worry and it is equally the occupation of every woman's worries to come to nothing.