Tag Archives: fairytale

Casey’s Crown

There are some distant church bells chiming across the foggy moors, ghostly songs are being sung, songs of a thousand years.  Casey is chilled to the bone; her grey shredded shawl flaps clumsily around her, making her image seem fragmented in the distance.  The ghostly song soon turns into evil menacing laughter and in the distance, a carousel spins, the decorative horse eyes that surround the carousel in their beautiful jewels and golden poles are aglow.  A demonic voice beckons Casey to go forwards, towards the carousel, welcoming her to the fair, welcoming her to sights never seen before, welcoming her to yield to the desires of them from the unknown.

Tentatively she steps forwards towards them, compelled by their magic.  Her footsteps are soft and delicate like tiny faeries dancing on the petals of roses so softly that the petals are unharmed.  Casey soon notices that her grey and brown rags are changing, but she doesn’t care, she just carries on towards the demonic fair, tip toeing like a ballerina in jade silk slippers.  Her clothes are turning into beautiful jade and gold coloured silks and white laces, her muddy hands are transformed to the hands of a beautiful clean lady, her fingers slender and rich, her nails polished and long… she is not Casey any more, she doesn’t know who she is turning into, but the feeling is glorious.  The demons at the fair cannot be seen nor heard any more.  There is a strong looking soldier standing by the carousel on guard – but Casey is not sure of what he is guarding.  He salutes Casey and a fanfare then erupts around them, an unseen army is marching she senses, not far behind the carousel, playing a robust brass band as they go along. 

A smell of roses accentuates the air around her.  Then, in the clearing of the fog, as she walks around the carousel, she sees them, the marching brass band and their soldiers in tow of a beautiful gilded litter carriage.  Peering into the window of the litter carriage Casey saw a beautiful young woman, in a golden gown with jade jewels bestrewed around her, her hair is unseen for it is covered by a beautiful jade scarf.  The woman, of which Casey presumes to be a queen, waves her hand towards a man presumably a steward to open the carriage door.  He does so, he calls to the soldiers in the band to halt and abruptly the music stops and all is still.  The Queen descends her carriage gracefully and on tippy toes walks elegantly towards Casey and takes hold of her shoulders, smiling sweetly down at her.  She is a pretty lady, very sweet and tender looking, like a mother attending to her infant.  Slowly the Queen stands aside and gently pushes Casey towards the opened carriage door and placing her crown upon Casey’s head, then walks away from Casey, slowly turning into a rag ridden young urchin and disappearing into the fog.  Confused Casey stays looking back into the fog for the queen, tentatively feeling for her crown, it felt strange upon her.  

The above story is a shortened version of a novelization I am working on and have been working on since May 2017. 

I wanted it to be a series of horror books, because Casey will have adventures and will lead into adventures of new characters along the way.  The thing is, I am not sure how many books this will potentially be or whether or not they will ever be completed, so I felt that it would be relatively safe to post this up on the blog.

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Fragaria & The Magic Daffodil

I’ve made a new category today as well as changed the theme of this blog, today’s new category is “About My Work” it’s where you can find out how I got some of my ideas and how I think (dare you enter the crevices of my mind that is).

The story and poem of “The Magic Daffodil” had a fairy character called Fragaria, I got this weird name from the Latin name of the strawberry Fragaria ananassa, pretty useful to think about foreign ways of saying things or Latinised versions for unique names in fantasy stories in my opinion.  I do this a lot; Hail very nearly became Yuki, which is snow in Japanese and I think everybody who has ever touched on trying to learn French knows that Mrs Fraise’s name is taken from the French word for strawberries too?

I originally wrote this as a poem, thinking nothing more on it, a few hours after I wrote it, I felt I needed to enhance the work as a short story because it was nagging me too much to ignore.

I remembered reading somewhere about a year ago that publishers are desperately seeking new and traditional fairy stories for children and I think I touched on that, I was doubtful about putting the poem and story onto my blog because I am unsure if publishers will touch it being it’s been put on the web now, what do you think?  Do you think having this put up here will affect it being published into an anthology or winning a short story contest?

I believe the poem and story invented itself in my mind because of a mix of things I’ve read and watched over the past year; I’ve started to learn about faeriecraft and various white witch methods of calling up nature spirits and faeries to assist in people’s lives, I have the fairy bible by Teresa Moorey and faeriecraft by Alice Geddes-Ward on my nearest shelves for constant reference. 

Nature spirits and so forth I do believe in and I meditate frequently as I see unexplainable things – for example sometimes when I am not thinking about them I see a fairy type person laying down on a log in the garden, then I turn my head to tell someone and look back it’s turned into a nodule on the log, then I blink and the nodule gets smaller and blink again, totally gone.  I think I am naturally crazy too, though, I love science so I try to work it out scientifically, but I love playing with my imagination, so I try to believe in some things to keep the magic in me alive, ha-ha.

Other things that bought about the cocktail that is known as “The Magic Daffodil” is the fact I’ve read a book called “The Snow Child” where a little girl comes and goes in snowy Alaska like a magic little wild fairy.  Also, it’s been the snowiest year I’ve ever known in the UK, and the longest winter I’ve ever experienced, so to me, that had a big impact too.

I’ve also been eating imported strawberries all week, leading up to writing the story as well and planted some of them from Spalding bulb into troughs.

My poems have been mostly about heart-break I think, too?  So that might have had something to do with it as well.

I am surprised by what I did because that night I wasn’t very well at all and I didn’t really want to work, but I just had to, I kept getting these little nagging poetic lines coming into my head and I must admit, most of my poetic work comes whilst sitting on the toilet… it’s annoying, but true, every one of my very best poems must have started on that toilet, sometimes I forget them as I am coming down the stairs again, because my little boy is up to something, so I must start leaving a note pad and pen in there.

I am begging to think whether or not it would be crazy to fashion a toilet into a chair for my office area?

Anyway, that’s it for now; hope you enjoyed the flow of my mind?

 

 

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Filed under About my work