Hats off

In the township named Blackhat dwell very seriously, on the first sight, citizens. But this seriousness, actually, is very funny. The question is, that every mother's son (except maybe just the tiniest of them) has long-long hair and wears a self-perpetuating black hat.

Yes, differently aged and differently growth people, differently dressed and differently behavioral citizens decorate their heads with the absolutely identical hairstyle and a traditional black hat.

These hats are not sold in special stores and are not sewn to order by a tailor. Living in Blackhat, you can’t choose your hat, because, once, you’ll just get it. And you’ll get it with the little witch. And this witch convinced that this hat is her own dwelling. By the way, you can’t choose one of the little witches, too.

Little witches had appeared in Blackhat long before the ordinary people did. That’s why they think they are full mistresses of Blackhat and may do whatever they want.
Since the dawn of time these feisty women during whole year use to do their own business in private, in isolation from the rest of the world, spending their time in their small, cozy houses, which is nothing else than the same black hat (which everyone here wears).

And there is only one of summer nights, when these pleasant creatures leave their habitual shelters and flock to the hill (where now located town tower) in order to see and to be seen, and also exchange potion recipes and meet some new friends. Also, of course, to fly on broomsticks to the top of their bent. Those who had got along, put the hat-houses in the neighborhood (with an eye to walk to each other's house by stealth during the next year).

When the first human had appeared on the site of the future Blackhat, the first thing he discovered was the same black hat. This stupid human had in his long-haired head (in those days all people, even the smallest, had long hair) an “ingenious” idea: to lift and try on this black hat.

Evidently, he was a very lucky man, because at that moment little witch, living under this hat, was in a deep sleep and, really, was a nice one. But when he tried to take that hat off him, little witch had long been awaking and settled down. And if some kind of place was chosen by this baby, don't try to chase her out of it.

The neighbor of this little witch had sneakily visited her roommate's new house, and it had sent her over the moon and back, and the following morning The Pioneer’s uncomplicated fellow had found himself decorated by exactly the same black hat. And so it was.

Every resident of Blackhat, every last one of them, at one of the summer nights has taken to the streets and — the only time a year — take off their hats, in order to thousands of little witches could celebrate their harmless coven.

After this magical night townsfolk use to move: up to new neighbors and weddings are not uncommon at that time. Old blackhatians are fond of saying: “marriages are made under the hats.” Or: “You can't force someone to live under your hat.”

And as for long hair, the inhabitants still don't know anything about it, you should ask little witches.