The Proper Way to Treat the Hearth-Guest

Folklore

Listen close, because I will not say this twice. The Guest does not care for your prayers or your singing. It cares for the rent. You treat the fireplace like a furnace, but you treat the Guest like a landlord who has lost his patience. Every Tuesday, before the sun hits the fence post, you take a single egg. Crack it. Pour exactly half into the cold ash of the hearth. Do not whisk it, do not stir it. Leave it to bake in the gray. If you use the whole egg, you are inviting it to take more than just the ash. If you use none, you are inviting it to take from the larder. A thimble of honey must sit on the mantel ledge. Not a spoon, not a bowl, a thimble. If you give too much, it grows greedy. If you give too little, it grows spiteful. Place it precisely where the stone meets the wood. If the honey is gone by morning, the house is settled. If the thimble is tipped over, you have offended it. Once a season, during the first frost, find a nail. It must be rusted. Not a new one from the store, but one pulled from a rotting fence or a dead barn. Press it deep into the mortar between the third and fourth brick from the left. The Guest likes the taste of old iron; it keeps the entity anchored to the stone and out of the bedrooms. If you forget these things, do not come crying to me when the cream turns to vinegar in an hour. Do not complain when the back door refuses to stay latched, no matter how hard you slam it. Do not ask why the children are waking up screaming about a man with soot for skin standing in the corner of the nursery. The Guest does not play tricks. It collects debts. Keep the grate clean, keep the offerings precise, and keep your mouth shut when you hear the scratching behind the flue. It is not a mouse. It is the owner of the heat, and you are merely the one paying the bill.