Category Archives: Fairy Tale

Swans…

*

‘Birds-of-the-Beyond’, Mountain-Ana called them.

She bought us a book.

The picture of the Lir-Clan huddled on a rock in the middle of a raging sea, slipping into Swan-Vests still remains, clear as each new day that dawns.

*

“They’re here!” she said, her eyes aflame.

“What are?”

“The-Birds-from-Back-of-Beyond.”

I smiled at her memory, “They’re where?”

“Our-Back-Field!”

“Not possible,” I said grabbing my coat.

But I was wrong.

It had rained heavily overnight and two swans now swam on an impossible lake in the middle of Our-Back-Field.

We watched them all morning and wept when they flew away.

*

The Prisoner…

 

waddesdon-200

*

Beauty dived into the bushes led by Prince then gasped as one of the thorns from the brambles traced the delicate skin of her inner arm.

The blood came in spurts and rivulets.

“No wait,” she cried, pausing to peer back through the leaves.

The first yelps of the Bull Mastiffs could be heard on the breeze and soon Hog-Headed guards would swarm the grounds.

“Strange…” She mused, “how even the most well appointed buildings can be used as a prison.”

Prince smiled, turned, and moved off, deeper into the wood…

Behind him fell a glistening trail of crimson.

*

Troll Bridge…

*

Black-Jack-Davey had been on the road since sun-up.

As twilight descended filching the last of the colour from his day he came upon a village.

Up ahead he could make out a little stone bridge and what he took to be a garrison turret.

On the far-side of the river were lights.

As Black-Jack approached the bridge it started to rain.

“Who goes there!” cried a gravelly voice.

From under the bridge lurched a hideous troll who leered at Jack and demanded, “Be ye friend or foe?”

“Oh, I’m definitely a friend,” laughed Jack.

“Yee’ll still ‘ave to pay,” drooled the troll eyeing Jack up for size and licking his…lips.

“What if I’d been a foe?” asked Jack.

“Why, then it’d ‘ave been double,” replied the troll uncertainly. No one before had ever asked any questions.

“And on whose authority do you demand payment to cross this bridge?” continued Jack…

This was too much for the troll. He needed back up.

“Lycretia!” he hollered.

After a small space, Lycretia, lumbered up from under the stone bridge looking distinctly nonplussed to have been disturbed…

“What now, Gore-Tax,” she complained. “Can’t a woman leave a man to do owt reet these days?”

If Gore-Tax was a big, fat, ugly looking troll, which he decidedly was, then Lycretia was bigger, fatter and uglier. She was also decidedly meaner looking…

“It’s this little fellow ‘ere,” said Gore-Tax, looking down and then hastily re-adjusting his gaze, for in all the hullaballoo, Black-Jack-Davey had walked onto the threshold of the stone span… “‘Ere,” said Gore-Tax again, quickly retreating further onto the bridge.

“What about him?” said Lycretia, moving behind Black-Jack…

“He’s asking questions,” said Gore-Tax.

“What sort of questions,” said Lycretia, moving in on Jack.

“Wants to know about authority?” said Gore-Tax following Lycretia’s lead.

“We don’t need any,” laughed Lycretia…

As the two trolls pounced, Black-Jack-Davey hit the deck, rolled to his left, leaped to his feet and dashed across the bridge.

The two trolls collided head to head in mid air and fell to stone concussed.

Their combined weight, falling from such a height, was too much for the little stone bridge. It cracked and collapsed into the dark river where it was washed away.

The trolls went with it…

But what of Black-Jack-Davey?

Well…

he lived…

a number of other tales…

…to tell.

*

Dryad…

*

…That night the world took on strange colours and my dream-girl became a tree.

If I were a Druid I would say that I had fallen under the sway of a wood nymph, a Dryad…

She is certainly very beautiful and pulls me  away from the busy road where traffic endlessly flashes through the ever screaming air…

She always wins.

I always turn from the road and allow her to take my hands in hers.

We roll down the embankment conjoined…

We roll together

for all eternity

but then collide with the bole of the tree

and she is gone.

Harvest of Wyrms…

*

‘The Witch’, they called her but she minded not, tending to her herbs and the animals and birds which nature’s highest intelligence brought to the garden of her single roomed house knowing her abilities to hold and to heal…

It started slowly.

A black stain on the stone and the gentle glooping of mud or oil disturbed by rising vapours.

But by noon the single roomed house had begun to rise through the air…

She peered from a window of the house, now tower, at the receding garden, far below, and smiled.

Unfurling her wings she hopped from the window…

*

Betwixters?…

*

“We still don’t know how they did it, or why, or even if they really did it or not…

…We do know that for at least two thousand years these sort of monuments were a preoccupation, were the preoccupation of a world wide culture.

And then they were not!

The traditional supposition is climate change.

But there is another way to look it.

One that involves teleology…

And a change of state…

An evolution.

Amphibians can live in water and on land.

What would we call a creature that lives neither in nor out of time but somewhere between?”…

 

‘Heart and Soul’…

*

The first key…

Bigger than me…

and inside, a box; identical but smaller, in order to fit, with another key.

*

Key number two…

As big as you…

whose mote is my beam, now clearly seen as I click the lock and find inside another box, identical but smaller…

*

Key number three…

What will we see…

as we flick the lock and peer inside the box? A heart, blood red and still beating…

*

The ground starts to shake with footfalls much bigger than me and a large eye appears at the church window.

‘Fee… Fi… Fo… Fum…’ says the Giant.

*

 

 

Anomalies…

colours

*

In the Land of the Living Heart, Angus was playing ball.

The sphere of light span and soared in and around and about his aura, as he juggled, and laughed… like tiny bells, chiming.

Just then, the Dagda went by, enveloped in cloud…

He stopped frowning when he saw Angus, “On my head, son!” he said.

With a flick of his fore-finger Angus propelled the sphere of light towards the Dagda who rose, majestically, through the air… and missed it!

The sphere splattered against the Rainbow Bridge, momentarily colouring the atmosphere…

Angus shrugged, “It’s not like we can ask for it back.”

*

Tom Banjo…

*

Down the dark stairwell,  a silent progress plotted.

‘Twas death in that  house were Tom but spotted.

…He reached the door, a tree clad Owl hooted.

Three seconds more and Tom was Seven League Booted.

One stride it took to clear that grim ravine.

By the dimly waking watchers, Tom was never seen.

A toe hold caught the receding lip of night.

Poor Tom was spilled out, and tumbled into flight…

*

In the glow

far, far below…

High keening Kites.

*

*Tom Banjo is a character who appears in the Grateful Dead song entitled ‘Mountains of the Moon’. About two-thirds the way through the song, and upon hearing of the Marsh King’s daughter, Tom mysteriously disappears…