The Knave of Spades digs with desperation to secure his foothold in the kingdom. He digs in the seaweed damp of the night, the blood dripping from his hand. He is aware of the metallic cordite smell freckled to his skin and fights to ignore it along with the insistent throbbing stump of his newly missing finger, a small price to pay for duelling with that gangster, the Knave of Diamonds. Hearing of the duel, The house of Diamonds would be on his tail as light broke but he would be away with the treasure by then and they could do nothing.
Water drips from the walls of the cave as the wind stirs butterfly cobwebs, full of translucent dewdrops. The sand grits between his toes as they sink with the effort of his toil. The sweat is dripping from him and the cave once filled with moonlight becomes darker as she follows her path across the sky pulling the tide up the beach. Desperation beats loud at his heart and thrums in his ears at odds with the quiescence of the coming dawn. He urges himself on with every stroke of his spade. the shove and heave is a jolting pendulum in reverse.
He must reach the box hidden deep beneath the stalactite's point before the tide imprisons him or he will be left to sell his soul to the devil. There is no other way to escape with your life once the sea reclaims her cave.
The spade strikes the tin box, the clang of a gong a skylark ascending into the gloom and silence of the cave. He is released from poverty and servitude in an instant. There is enough power in this box full of diamonds to secure him an army. His destiny calls to him as the rush of water approaches the mouth of the cave. He will take back the throne of his father and throw the Diamonds to the dogs. There is sudden clarity to his thoughts: His fortune will change forever, the Knave of Spades will be King.
A game of cards
Seven tropical fruits glisten in their massacred translucent spill of juice and dark ambition.
The King of Diamonds stamps his foot " I said I wanted bananas."
The Ace of Diamonds descends to hell, an awkward cousin sitting at the top table on a subterranean plot and whistles into the quiescent air following the King's outburst.
The Jack of Hearts dribbles into his mead, a dew drop hanging from the end of his nose,
living dangerously before the opium ball waiting for the Queen.
Thursday, 30 April 2015
Tuesday, 28 April 2015
Into the Woods
Into the woods we went, the professor and I, around moss covered stones and dripping ferns to dapples of sunlight and dandelion seed, hoping to catch a glimpse of the fairy folk. Would they be sitting around the fairy ring on acorn cups fashioned from stumps?
There, beneath the dark puddles of shadow I spied a tiny wooden door in the tangled roots, handle worn smooth from being turned in anticipation by so many hopeful hands.
"Look," I said
"Ah, Others have passed this way then."
"But how will we get back?"
"That is a conundrum for later cogitation" said he, "Be content with the present. Find a way to unlock the door."
How do you camouflage yourself from fairy folk? Maybe disguised with way-side flowers we could sneak through unseen and find a way to pass through the burrs knots and rings of time. As I consider, the professor speaks again in wonder,
"See, on the wood pile there? The present that was never given? Unwrap it from its pretty ribbon and stiff paper and reveal what is hidden within"
I did as he asked and found a vial of golden liquid, viscous honey mead full of Puck's menace. We both drank, but I never saw him again.
I have it here still. Beware, it will transport you in a fluff and billow of confusion to another land. There you will see, as I did, the little people, the Watingers and the Woodentops, the armies of Minpins. There is a whole community in collusion with nature. Think carefully. Do you want to be beholden to them? If you take the risk and go to them what you learn must be kept secret it is their law. And they will want something in return for being seen. Security, protection, a safe haven at the bottom of your garden. If you go into the secret realm you are bound by their laws you will become a gatekeeper,as I am now, a warden for the green man. Guard it well if you go and cherish it always for a gift of love may be wrapped in many different guises.
There, beneath the dark puddles of shadow I spied a tiny wooden door in the tangled roots, handle worn smooth from being turned in anticipation by so many hopeful hands.
"Look," I said
"Ah, Others have passed this way then."
"But how will we get back?"
"That is a conundrum for later cogitation" said he, "Be content with the present. Find a way to unlock the door."
How do you camouflage yourself from fairy folk? Maybe disguised with way-side flowers we could sneak through unseen and find a way to pass through the burrs knots and rings of time. As I consider, the professor speaks again in wonder,
"See, on the wood pile there? The present that was never given? Unwrap it from its pretty ribbon and stiff paper and reveal what is hidden within"
I did as he asked and found a vial of golden liquid, viscous honey mead full of Puck's menace. We both drank, but I never saw him again.
I have it here still. Beware, it will transport you in a fluff and billow of confusion to another land. There you will see, as I did, the little people, the Watingers and the Woodentops, the armies of Minpins. There is a whole community in collusion with nature. Think carefully. Do you want to be beholden to them? If you take the risk and go to them what you learn must be kept secret it is their law. And they will want something in return for being seen. Security, protection, a safe haven at the bottom of your garden. If you go into the secret realm you are bound by their laws you will become a gatekeeper,as I am now, a warden for the green man. Guard it well if you go and cherish it always for a gift of love may be wrapped in many different guises.
Saints and Sinners
Part 1
Crystals of ice glinted on the top of the frozen fish cake.
" Well that's not a very appetising dinner" said Juniper to herself as she tapped it up and down on the edge of the worktop, "I'd rather chew on a bag of nails and the bread bin only holds a dry crust." She glanced at the clock, she'd have to be quick if she wanted to get to the Co-Op. The mantra: keys, phone, purse, running through her head, she grabbed her coat, locked the flat and headed to the high street leaving the key behind the geranium pot. The evening was strung with dust motes floating in the last rays of sunshine, miracles of light looking for their labour's rest.
Juniper took the short cut though the church yard gloaming under the long shadow of ancient yew, startling slightly at the guttural sound of a impudent toad to her left. Her hand jumped to her heart as she muttered a prayer, " Saints preserve us," and hoped there would be nothing else leaping into the path. Having a good imagination was not always a good thing when you read the Tabloid papers. What with Aliens, a Panther and a Sasquatch being reported in the Black Hills, responsible for the abduction of several sheep over recent months she was almost afraid to leave the town. She decided to dip into the font on her way past the church, a little holy water was as good for protection as anything. As she clunk-creaked the door on its latch she noted the stained glass saints complete their march across the floor of the aisle then disappear as the sun finally dipped behind the horizon. The church had that distinct smell of incense, polished halos and damp wooden icons. She spied the verger balancing on a precariously placed ladder, polishing the World War honours list to those who's passing had been noted with medals of bravery that they would never see. There was a loose thread on the hem of his surplus and Juniper wondered idly who took up a needle and thread for him? Did he go to Patel's on the High Street? Or did he have a bespectacled parishioner slowly sewing her way to heaven in 'good deeds to clergy'?
She came to from her reverie, always the daydreamer, remembering she must get to the
Co-Op before it shut. She had sat in the cool of the church without realising and now as she stood noticed the sand gravelling between her toes from the beech last weekend.
" Cornflour! I must buy cornflour for the play school." That school of scandal,she added in her head, thinking of the graffiti she had read and believed in the public toilet at the park. How could the headmaster and the dinner lady have been so careless as to get caught together in the delivery truck? Those doughnuts were served in the staff room for goodness sake!
She brushed passed an errant self-seeded mint inhaling it's scent as she exited the lytch gate And listened as the lyrics of a song she didn't recognise faded away with a speeding car, it's window down to the cooling air. Her memory was as poor as a goldfish. She was so easily distracted. What had she come out for? She retraced the steps in her mind: mint, holy water, Saints, toads, Co-Op. That was it, something for tea.
Part 2
That was it, something for tea. Something else from the sea maybe? As she entered the Co-Op, Juniper noticed the other shoppers charging up and down the aisles like Duracell bunnies, as if their life depended on randomly filling their trolling and hastening home to their personal chaos. Their weekend would be full of small triumphs to be repeated ad nauseam, grass mowing, car washing, hedge trimming. hamsters on wheels. Not for the first time she found herself grateful for her small flat and single life. She could do as she pleased. She grabbed a basket and headed to the small fresh fish selection. Mackerel, that would do. She would have to buy two as there was no singles but she could make pâté with the other for her sandwiches in the week. She grabbed some cream cheese and some rocket and new potatoes for good measure and headed to the tills.
The young man at the register seemed to be preparing for some fancy dress outing or maybe a charity event? His hair was shaved into harlequin diamonds and dyed as many colours. This jarred most oddly with the pink bunny-rabbit onesie he was wearing which for some unknown reason had an inexplicably hairy tummy. What are those rabbits thought Juniper? Alpacas? No, that didn't sound right. She'd have to do an Internet search when she got home or she'd be up all night!
She heaved the door open and headed off back down the high street with her supper. She was back at the lytch gate again when she stopped dead and shouted,
"Cornflour! Juniper, you half wit."
Crystals of ice glinted on the top of the frozen fish cake.
" Well that's not a very appetising dinner" said Juniper to herself as she tapped it up and down on the edge of the worktop, "I'd rather chew on a bag of nails and the bread bin only holds a dry crust." She glanced at the clock, she'd have to be quick if she wanted to get to the Co-Op. The mantra: keys, phone, purse, running through her head, she grabbed her coat, locked the flat and headed to the high street leaving the key behind the geranium pot. The evening was strung with dust motes floating in the last rays of sunshine, miracles of light looking for their labour's rest.
Juniper took the short cut though the church yard gloaming under the long shadow of ancient yew, startling slightly at the guttural sound of a impudent toad to her left. Her hand jumped to her heart as she muttered a prayer, " Saints preserve us," and hoped there would be nothing else leaping into the path. Having a good imagination was not always a good thing when you read the Tabloid papers. What with Aliens, a Panther and a Sasquatch being reported in the Black Hills, responsible for the abduction of several sheep over recent months she was almost afraid to leave the town. She decided to dip into the font on her way past the church, a little holy water was as good for protection as anything. As she clunk-creaked the door on its latch she noted the stained glass saints complete their march across the floor of the aisle then disappear as the sun finally dipped behind the horizon. The church had that distinct smell of incense, polished halos and damp wooden icons. She spied the verger balancing on a precariously placed ladder, polishing the World War honours list to those who's passing had been noted with medals of bravery that they would never see. There was a loose thread on the hem of his surplus and Juniper wondered idly who took up a needle and thread for him? Did he go to Patel's on the High Street? Or did he have a bespectacled parishioner slowly sewing her way to heaven in 'good deeds to clergy'?
She came to from her reverie, always the daydreamer, remembering she must get to the
Co-Op before it shut. She had sat in the cool of the church without realising and now as she stood noticed the sand gravelling between her toes from the beech last weekend.
" Cornflour! I must buy cornflour for the play school." That school of scandal,she added in her head, thinking of the graffiti she had read and believed in the public toilet at the park. How could the headmaster and the dinner lady have been so careless as to get caught together in the delivery truck? Those doughnuts were served in the staff room for goodness sake!
She brushed passed an errant self-seeded mint inhaling it's scent as she exited the lytch gate And listened as the lyrics of a song she didn't recognise faded away with a speeding car, it's window down to the cooling air. Her memory was as poor as a goldfish. She was so easily distracted. What had she come out for? She retraced the steps in her mind: mint, holy water, Saints, toads, Co-Op. That was it, something for tea.
Part 2
That was it, something for tea. Something else from the sea maybe? As she entered the Co-Op, Juniper noticed the other shoppers charging up and down the aisles like Duracell bunnies, as if their life depended on randomly filling their trolling and hastening home to their personal chaos. Their weekend would be full of small triumphs to be repeated ad nauseam, grass mowing, car washing, hedge trimming. hamsters on wheels. Not for the first time she found herself grateful for her small flat and single life. She could do as she pleased. She grabbed a basket and headed to the small fresh fish selection. Mackerel, that would do. She would have to buy two as there was no singles but she could make pâté with the other for her sandwiches in the week. She grabbed some cream cheese and some rocket and new potatoes for good measure and headed to the tills.
The young man at the register seemed to be preparing for some fancy dress outing or maybe a charity event? His hair was shaved into harlequin diamonds and dyed as many colours. This jarred most oddly with the pink bunny-rabbit onesie he was wearing which for some unknown reason had an inexplicably hairy tummy. What are those rabbits thought Juniper? Alpacas? No, that didn't sound right. She'd have to do an Internet search when she got home or she'd be up all night!
She heaved the door open and headed off back down the high street with her supper. She was back at the lytch gate again when she stopped dead and shouted,
"Cornflour! Juniper, you half wit."
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