☕️ Alice’s Mad Tea Party Presents:
šµ Alice Spills the Tea: The White Mare at the Door
Ah yes. Christmas.
The season of goodwill, warm fires, questionable relatives, and pretending ancient winter spirits never once demanded entry into your home while rattling a horse skull at midnight.
How modern of us.
Tonight, my darlings, I bring you a proper Christmas tale. One older than tinsel. Older than carols. Older than the idea that winter was ever meant to be polite.
Gather close. Mind the frost. And if you hear singing at the door later… do not answer too quickly.
This is the tale of the Mari Lwyd.
The Mare Who Walks Between Years
Long before stockings were hung and trees were dragged indoors like festive hostages, the people of Wales knew winter was not something to conquer.
It was something to negotiate with.
When the longest nights crept in and the year began to thin at its edges, she came.
A horse’s skull, bleached white as moonbone, jaw hinged and clacking. Empty eyes that somehow saw everything. Draped in white cloth, ribbons, and bells that rang not to celebrate - but to warn.
The Mari Lwyd.
She did not knock.
She sang.
Her voice rose outside cottage doors in verses sharp as frost, challenging those inside to a battle of wit and song. A contest of clever words, riddles, and rhyme.
If you lost?
She entered.
And once inside, she drank your ale, stole your food, teased your household into chaos, and left behind something far more dangerous than fear.
Blessing.
Because the Mari Lwyd was not evil.
She was winter itself. Wild. Hungry. Laughing. A reminder that survival was earned, not gifted.
Win the battle, and she moved on.
Lose… and she stayed awhile.
What She Really Took
Now, the tidy versions of this story will tell you she brought luck, fertility, and prosperity for the coming year.
Which is true.
But incomplete.
What she truly took from a household was stagnation.
She rattled bones. She mocked pride. She unsettled anything that had grown too comfortable. People laughed because fear is easier to swallow when it dances.
She reminded them that the old year must die so the new one could be born.
And yes, sometimes she overturned furniture. Worth it.
Alice’s Completely Reasonable Opinion
Personally, I adore her.
Any spirit who shows up uninvited, demands poetry, drinks your ale, and leaves your life better than she found it is welcome at my table.
I have often considered inviting her to the studio Christmas party.
Rumple said no.
Coward.
Still, if on a cold Christmas night you hear bells and singing outside your door, remember this - she is not there to hurt you.
She is there to see if you are clever enough, brave enough, and honest enough to face the coming year.
So sharpen your wit. Warm your voice. And for the love of lore, keep decent ale on hand.
Merry Christmas, my darlings.
And if a white mare grins at you through the dark?
Sing back.
Alice
Queen of Ink & Lore
Winter Enthusiast
Absolutely Would Let Her In ☕️❄️
š Editorial Note from Pip
Alice insists the Mari Lwyd once tried to eat a filing cabinet and challenged Rumplestiltskin to a rhyming duel involving insults about his boots.
There is no historical evidence of this.
There is, however, extensive documentation of Alice encouraging supernatural entities to “just come inside, it’ll be fun.”
Reader discretion advised.
Happy Holidays.
