(Credit: js4853 on DeviantArt)
A skull half covered in sand.
Daffodils bound with a blue ribbon.
Both in front of a beach house.
The waves crash, agitated.
He must have known that daffodils are her favourite flower,
But it did not help him.
The wind picks up, uncovering more bones.
She did not throw him even a single scrap.
And he starved.
Posted by Beatrix MGN on September 28, 2016
https://abolg.wordpress.com/2016/09/28/79-starvation/
(Credit: quicksprout)
Frozen pink bubblegum is clamped unto the wall just inside the door. White crystals surround it. They look like sugar, but she knows better than to lick them; she remembers last winter and a lamppost and a very painful tongue.
There are hooks in the ceiling with some sort of slaughtered animals hanging from them. They do not look like animals anymore. They do not look like anything. Except perhaps the pink on the outside looks like gum and the inside looks like raspberry flavour.
Shivering, she sits on the floor and imagines them to be silent guardians of this cold and silent place. This bubblegum realm coated in sugar. It seems like a nice place to stay for a while. A place where no one will find her.
Posted by Beatrix MGN on September 24, 2016
https://abolg.wordpress.com/2016/09/24/bubblegum-freezer/
(Credit: hotel-r.net)
She never left this place.
These creaking doors and draughty windows, this garden full of old plum trees. The fruit always ended up on the grass.
She had his groceries brought to her, and boards and nails to repair the larger holes in the roof.
She slept in one bedroom and ate in the kitchen. I visited once. In the other bedroom and the living room, the furniture was covered with white sheets and cobwebs.
She lived here for 30 years
Then she passed away.
But she never left.
Posted by Beatrix MGN on September 17, 2016
https://abolg.wordpress.com/2016/09/17/she-never-left/
(Credit: Sonja Krueger)
Her skin burns.
The air ripples over the dried up riverbed.
A deep breath brings rosemary and thyme.
Smoothed rocks dig into her back, but she is completely still.
Above her, several vultures circle.
How long until they land?
How long until it is the bone breaker’s turn?
How long until she will be gone,
Absorbed into this dry oven with tall towers of layered limestone?
The hot air scorches her nose and catches in her throat.
Much, much too long.
Posted by Beatrix MGN on September 14, 2016
https://abolg.wordpress.com/2016/09/14/how-long/
(Credit: BeKissable on Deviantart)
On the porch with his violin.
At sunset, he plays everything
That used to make her dance.
He is alone in the house now
With cobwebs and squeaking windows
Since the forest took her.
One summer I brought him small talk,
Groceries and many questions.
No answers ever came.
When I looked over my shoulder,
His silhouette was a statue
Staring at the forest.
It seems very painful with the
Memory and forest so close
One should think he would leave.
But he seems to be waiting and
At sunset, he plays everything
That used to make her dance.
Posted by Beatrix MGN on September 10, 2016
https://abolg.wordpress.com/2016/09/10/she-used-to-dance/
(Credit: rhs.org.uk, Royal Horticultural Society)
Erica is a genus of flowering plants. It contains such species as Erica Carnea Alba, a heather plant also called “Ice Princess”. It flowers in the winter and early spring, even when it still has a blanket of snow.
I thought you were thawing.
A true lover’s knot is a knot composed of two intertwined overhand knots. It is heavy with symbolism and has been an inspiration to sailors’ wedding rings.
I thought we would be inseparable.
However, a true lover’s knot is also a moth, which lives in heathland. A moth, which eats the plants. And then it all makes sense. You were not thawing; I was just eating away at you. Gorging myself on you, until you became afraid I might consume you completely. It makes sense that you would find someone else, who will let you flower in peace under your snowy blanket.
(Credit: suffolkmothgroup.org.uk)
Posted by Beatrix MGN on September 7, 2016
https://abolg.wordpress.com/2016/09/07/erica/
3 Concerning a Meeting with a Lady
(Credit: Biostm on Deviantart)
After a struggle through bushes, which had suddenly surrounded me and reached for me with their thorns, I found myself in a large garden. There were numerous fruit trees (I did not recognize the fruit), and around them floated bluish, slightly glowing creatures. The creatures were about a yard long and looked like snakes with the heads of dragons. They seemed to swim through the air. I saw no wings on them.
At the far end of the garden, I could see a palace and in the middle was a fountain consisting of three fauns on a pedestal pouring water. When I came closer, I noticed the water was flowing up from the basin into their pitchers.
I sat down on the edge of the fountain to record my observations. I had not been there long when a voice spoke to me.
‘What are you doing?’
I looked up and saw a dark haired lady in a flowing dress made of a piece of night sky. I know she was probably a fairie, but her whole manner told me she was a lady, so I shall record her as such. I stood up and bowed.
‘I am writing down my observations,’ I said, ‘I am describing this realm to the best of my ability, my lady.’
‘So you are a writer?’ she inclined her head.
‘I suppose I am, my lady.’
‘I see,’ she said with a smile, which made my heart beat faster, ‘you want to pour your soul into these pages.’
This conclusion took me aback and I did not manage to formulate a response even in my mind before she continued.
‘Here, I’ll help you,’ she seemed to reach into me and closed her hand on something that made my entire being tingle. I heard the jingling of silver bells as she pulled me into the pages.
(Credit: Madly Mel on Tumblr)
4 A Request
If a human being should ever read this, please, if you cannot change me back, I implore you; do your best to let me become a part of the library at Hurtfew Abbey. It is about fourteen miles north-west of York. There might be someone there able to help me. And if the change is permanent, then at least in that library I know I will be in good company.
Posted by Beatrix MGN on September 4, 2016
https://abolg.wordpress.com/2016/09/04/notes-from-the-realm-of-fairie-3-and-4-of-4/
2 Concerning Bells
(Credit: ShipwreckedBarnacles on Deviantart)
Some time ago (I think it was yesterday, but I cannot seem to keep track of the time here), I heard church bells in the distance. I hurried to follow the sound, hoping to find a way out at last, but the sound stopped before I could reach it. After straining my ears for several minutes, I gave up with a sigh and noticed a few yards to my right two child-sized goblin like fairies discussing something under a tree. When I asked them about the church bells, they hissed and covered their ears. When I tried to question them further, they spat at me between their pointed teeth, climbed the tree and disappeared among the dark branches.
This aversion seems at odds with what I have otherwise observed. During my time here, many hunting parties on horseback and carriages have passed me, and although they moved at great speed, I have noticed that the harnesses of the horses are usually adorned with little silver bells. Sometimes there are even bells in the hair of the riders. These bells jingle most melodiously and much slower than the speed of the travellers would suggest.
It could be that when it comes to bells, different types of fairie have different reactions.
Or it could be that church bells have a different power less noticeable to humans than the magic of fairie bells.
Posted by Beatrix MGN on September 3, 2016
https://abolg.wordpress.com/2016/09/03/notes-from-the-realm-of-fairie-2-of-4/
1 Concerning the Appearance of Fairies
(Credit: jubjubjedi on Deviantart)
Fairies, and by this term I mean inhabitants of the realm of Fairie, vary so vastly in size and countenance that it is near impossible to describe them all. While one might resemble a lady or gentleman another might more closely resemble a wild boar, a rhododendron bush or even a small screw. However, when they are objects, I have discovered one rule; although they might be copper, gold or wood, they are never pure iron.
In addition to this variety, a great number of fairies can change their shape or even more often use illusions, called glamours, to make themselves appear different from what they are.
I have even experienced some fairies expressing doubt as to their own true shape, but this might simply have been to increase my confusion. Not that I would think it necessary to confuse me further (the lasting twilight, the strange stars and doorways leading elsewhere than simply to the other side already has me thoroughly perplexed), but it seems that every time I communicate with one of these beings, they are determined to lead me astray.
If I ever make it out of this realm, I shall do my best never to return. Hopefully, my collected knowledge will aid me to that effect.
Posted by Beatrix MGN on September 2, 2016
https://abolg.wordpress.com/2016/09/02/notes-from-the-realm-of-fairie-1-of-4/
From Scriptor Obscura. Visit her at scriptorwrites.wordpress.com
From Scriptor Obscura. Visit her at scriptorwrites.wordpress.com
From Poetic Parfait. Visit her at poeticparfait.wordpress.com
From Lostupabove. Visit her at lostupabove.wordpress.com
From Sandylikeabeach. Visit her at sandylikeabeach.wordpress.com
From theImaginator. Visit him at theimaginator.wordpress.com.
A Bolg? 