The Snowbells Ring Throughout The Endless Night...

(image source)

The snowbells ring throughout the endless night. Shaking their stark, blistering white light across the frozen fields, these little bell-flowers help light the way for the night travellers who search out for spring's new song. When the south starts to warm, after the deepest chill of winter, the land exhales a wistful air that sends itself reeling towards any remaining cold and ice, its determination gathering speed as it melts all in its path. The north feels it coming, and the brave flowers that found their way out of the snowbanks reverberate and buzz with pleasure. They call out again and again to the wild, warming winds. Those that travel after them delight to see the snow fracturing on their path. Green fingers rise sharply from the clods to greet them, and they dance together as the world around them brightens.

Inside The Stack Lived A Little Lady...

(image source)

Inside the stack lived a little lady made of words. Letters ran across her skin, her eyelashes beat with exclamations and her hair uncurled languorous descriptions of the stories her heart whispered in the night. The walls of her home were faded papers, histories and folktales that lingered on the page like shadows. Whether from sad thoughts or moments of delight, the tears she shed were made of blackest ink. They splashed around her and broke into an alphabet, the tiny characters ran around and banded together, weaving themselves into new yarns of extraordinary adventure.

. . . 

Happy Birthday to my book-loving friend, the lovely Amy in Wonderland! (& PS. Happy World Book Day!)

In Winter The World Falls Away...

(image source)

In winter the world falls away in sheets of colour. And shadows stick themselves to trees, grey and dark they reach out forever towards the slate of sky; ink upon a broken board. The hills are still, and lifeless. Winds roll over them, moving nothing. There are no eyes here, they went away long ago. There is no witness, the swans have ceased their singing.

A World Away

(image source)

A world away, and the sea still knocked against the arching stone pier that guarded the village. Gulls twisted themselves between sun and spray, ricocheting like rounds of hail among the rooftops. The residents within sighed and didn't notice that their days split apart - some hunkered, with knitted brows and pinched lips, determined gleams concentrating in their eyes; while others found their way towards the black windows and looked out at the liquid horizon, their hearts melting like mist that waits to see the sun.

SaveSave

The Cloth Closed Her Eyes

(image source)

The cloth closed her eyes like liquid ensnaring a scorched surface. It hid the dreams that darted under the lashes, all were smoke and shadow, thoughts that had run until they burned, but now lived on emitting the low hum of fading embers, exhaling the vaporous mild memories of luminous experience.

SaveSaveSaveSaveSaveSave

The Letter The Dear Girl Had Sent...

(image source)

The letter the dear girl had sent was a long, exquisite tale of social conquest: an evening party had been attended, a viperous acquaintance had attempted to inflict a mortal wound upon a romance but the girl had triumphed, her intended had appeared quite by chance at the party, and with eyes for no one but her.

There, In The Corner...

(image source)

There, in the corner, stood three misshapen chairs. Made of wood-knots and found fragments, some old hands had once fastened them together in a likeness of themselves and the chairs took on the demeanour of palm-cups, ready to hold whatever set upon them. They had lived a long time in this pale room, which only ever seemed to shine with a soft, wintry light. The people, their minds in knots and fragments, would come and go, forever changing, they left fingerprints of sky-ice.

The Collection Featured An Odd Assortment...

(image source)

The collection featured an odd assortment of spindly, dry foliage. The leaves had sprouted from the top of long, thin stalks which sat in their own small space upon the table. Some rested in small vases, others sat upon their own dehydrated bulbs and roots which had been plucked from the ground whole. Each herb or flower had lost its particular enchantment, their spells had drained as they dried, lost to the shadows in the soil.

The Words Passed

(image source)

The words passed across the tiny distance between them, cocooned in the warmth of breath. They spoke in a fractured daze, of the long evening, the days coming, and the years it had been since they last met.

In The Distance She Saw The Mountain...

(image source)

In the distance she saw the mountain, its peaks enveloped in a confusion of white wings. They swirled like May-ribbons, entranced and attracted by the safe, rocky ledges but ever recoiling from the cold surface. She made her way within the whirlwind of weathers, edging closer to mountain path. It arched away from her and she gazed up, up to the crags that held such dear treasure.

With The World So White..

(image source)

With the world so white, and frozen, winter was when light fractured at first sight of snow and disintegrated into curves of colour across the land. We lived by the edge of forest then, watching sunshine fall apart at break of day and rush back upon itself to nightfall. All the trees were hung with opals and pearls, and we picked them like fruit, ghost fruit that melted when they touched our lips.

The Chalky Flowers Bloomed...

(image source)

The chalky flowers bloomed, despite the lack of air and dragging damp of the windowsill. Their leaves stretched out like vines, reaching higher, ever higher, towards a fresher climate. The world outside had drowned for days and the view had diluted into drab flat hues. As the days drifted, the children's eyes became as washed out as the world and their hearts gasped in their sodden cages.

The Pea-Blooms Lingered Long...

(image source)

The pea-blooms lingered long that year. The sun, warm from languid days turned and became pale, silent and crisp. Some glow was left in September and it caressed the flowers, their petals flourished and clung to fingertips that called on them. Days clocked on, and mists curled across the land with a darkening intensity, leaving leaves burnished and bronze, and the peas clutched ever closer to their house of wires. They remained the last stand of summer.

The Mist Had Moved Mountains...

(image source)

The mist had moved mountains, turning them to sky; a sky of melting clouds that ran with colour. They seeped into her shadow and behind her eyes, and she hid in its folds. The damp air bewitched her fingers, she swept them through the vapours, absorbing time.

The Flowers Borne of Winter...

(image source)

The flowers borne of winter rose like tiny dark skeletons. They broke earth as light strengthened, black pins that sliced soil and awkwardly unfolded into form. Brittle as sheet ice, they were ghosts made of pale days; paper-thin corpses that resurrected under the breath of air. Bobbing in the breeze, they danced a death-dance, for it was the only life they'd ever known, and their flower-heads shook out the bewitching scent of sleep.

SaveSaveSaveSave

The Forest Had A New King...

(image source)

The forest had a new king. He took his throne in Downward Dell, quite by force, for his silver paws were strangers among the pines and they had come a long way. Among his treacherous attendants were the spies, small monochrome birds with tufts of antennas. They plucked out the riches and brought him a crown of thistle, to sit upon the pearl fur now installed on the seat of petrified majesty. He lost no claws that day, but the sun was settling and the dark night rains grew creepers everywhere.

She Sailed Amongst The Tangled Roots...

(image source)

She sailed amongst the tangled roots that curled and rolled together in a threaded mass, veins of waves that pulled in its prey. The trunks that fed from this viperous sea bloomed an evergreen crown, shining forever amidst a bleak sea. She blew on her sails and rose higher among the coils, glimpsing leaves that rippled like radiant scales. At the sight of her they began to shiver and scatter, falling down to her like tiny, papery flakes.

The Bed Broke...

(image source)

The bed broke. Her cluster of spring jewels, so neat and silent in their burrows below the grey, worn earth, sensed the dilating light and sliced through the frozen soil to meet the burning beams of February. The ground trembled, and soil tumbled over, breaking black as it made way for the army of sweet green things. Restless, they sought out the fresher air and drove beyond the last leaves of decay, unfurling into the lingering twilight, their snowbells chiming merrily with the lush evensong that drifted, feathery, from trees.

She Danced Among The Wheatears...

(image source)

She danced among the wheatears, in cinder-fallen fields,
She danced among the gossamer, until the sky revealed
Within its cloak the softest song, of ice and grey delight
That fell into her open arms, and turned the lea to light.

SaveSaveSaveSave

September's Dusk Ran Over...

(image source)

September's dusk ran over the farm, and night shadows grew in the tiny windows. The velvet heather swayed as the air cooled, its faint scent rolling over the hill. In the workers' cottages, heads were downed on pillows, the souls wandering in new fields - sowing new seed, harvesting new dreams. They felt like they lived there forever.

The Winter Sun Hung Low In The North....

(image source)

The winter sun hung low in the north. Barely breaking into daylight, it burned golden for hours, sending a cascade of rich yellow streams across the world, then faded swiftly when all its splendour was spent. On clearer days it explored the town houses, surging through their windows and alighting within. It flowed over furniture legs and brightened when it saw something to its fancy, lingering over books and blooms. It was brave in these days, battling back shadow into the recesses, letting darkness hide in hinges.

Smoke And Firelight Flooded...

(image source)

Smoke and firelight flooded out of the forest, she turned on her heels and dissolved back into the trees, back into the embers of his memory.

They Were Gone...

(image source)

They were gone, and the house had been quiet for days. With all small amusements to be found below stairs soon exhausted, Ellette began to reacquaint herself with the crevices of the house. It wasn't long before she found her way into the tiny attic antechamber, with its kaleidoscope of walls and patchwork windows. 

The corner alcove had somehow been fitted with shelves, all of which were bedecked with abandoned precious treasures. Feathers and stones, wilting under dust and their long, motionless existence made the most part, and all were carefully arranged around the jewel: a full-skirted figurine that concealed a tiny set of jewellery drawers. They rattled open to reveal their dull white gems, tiny teeth that collapsed to powder when her fingertips alighted on them. She gasped, the fine grains were turning golden, and rising, filling the air with a glitter of sunlight. But a sudden gust, a pane was broken, she flung out her hands but too late - it was lost to the winds.

Waves Tumbled Toward The Shore...

(image source)

Waves tumbled toward the shore, their foam crumbling like broken chalk. In the distance, the shrinking shadows of sails dropped over the edge of the world. The day was in its simple beginnings, awaking in a creamy haze that tenderly swept away the last dregs of a grey dawn. At the border of the this water world sat a woman, her body sanded fine by every-weather, and the days she spent rolling in amongst the tides. Here she sat rested, dry for the merest moment, surveying her liquid kingdom and reading its secrets. A shadow crossed her and her mind resurfaced. She reclined and observed the playful, cloudy light whilst her lace cap sent its ribbons streaming, licking her face as softly as spray. She bathed in the light, drawing down its lustre, and encased it in her heart-shell, there to burn throughout the day as she dived between the cool currents.

The Black, Broken Leaves...

(image source)

The black, broken leaves rested gently in the bowl. Her hands, exhausted and still blooming with blood, clasped the vessel.  She drew it near, woody scent and ink water filled her, causing sharp, salty drops to fall from her lashes and in amongst the dying stalks.

Clear, Sinuous Water Swept Around Her...

(image source)

Clear, sinuous water swept around her. Again, the cool liquid had beckoned her, and its charms were irresistible. The last time passed in a moment, before the day's light faded and the growing chill of lonely night drove her home. But again it called, and again she returned, luxuriating in the soft swell. She shed her civil skin, undressing each piece of society's paltry patchwork, and her human fur, overjoyed, melted into the river.

The Smoke Curled And Drifted...

(image source)

The smoke curled and drifted into the silver air of winter. The grey streams had been relentless all afternoon, the last whisper of breath from hearth fires that remained well lit among the row of stunted houses. Their inhabitants had mistaken the grey mist, so frequent with morning frost, as the ruin of the day and had resolutely determined to keep themselves lodged in well-worn chairs and forget the world. But the world lightened, and frost faded, with only the daring dunnocks there to see it.