Once there was and once there wasn’t, an old woman who lived in a shoe, she had so many children she didn’t know what to do . . . . until she did. Her husband was a shoemaker and he made the finest shoes to be found anywhere. From far and wide people came to have their feet outlined by his delicate long fingered hands. These tracings he’d turn into a pattern from which to stitch them their shoes, and oh the shoes he made! The lightest yet strongest of shoes, high heeled, stillettoed, or flat, sturdy, buttoned, laced, or pointy, to dance or walk miles and miles in::whatever your fancy he could stitch a shoe for your foot, a shoe to match your soles deepest longing. He was descended from a shoemaker, who was descended from a shoemaker, who was descended from yet another shoemaker, who was the son of a poor man, a no body, happily making shoes in a small village, until one day he was found. Discovered, uncovered, and recovered he was brought to a jolly jostling city to the door of a wealthy tradesman, a merchant. Continue reading “booties”
Deep in the woods lived a herd of deer. One day they heard the apple tree calling to them. They held council about the matter, for out of the woods and under an oak tree lived a ferocious beast. The herd was terrified of this beast who they would certainly have to pass to get to the apple tree. While they were in council the younger does and some fawns were peeking out from between the hickories, pines, and poplars. They were looking at the sleeping beast and longing to go to where the apple tree was calling. Finally, one of them couldn’t stand it anymore!
Continue reading “Sketi”
“Mum, this is Logan Bell, I hope it’s okay that I invited him back home for bread and jam?”
“How nice to meet you Logan, I’m Willow,” the young woman said smiling at him, “You’re right on time! The bread’s just out of the oven, there’s butter on the counter and jam in a bowl beside it. Please, help yourself.”
Continue reading “Whispering Wind and Logan Bell”
The old man was angry. Everywhere he turned he saw bush after red-berried bush of these weedy plants taking over the landscape! People! He shook his head in disbelief. Really, they were too much. Some planted them for the silvery grey foliage, so beautiful they’d say. Others planted them as hedgerows, privacy screening, and how nice that the berries fed the birds. Then they’d pat themselves on the back for this! And then:: it went on like this . . . the old man just couldn’t understand the ignorance that motivated these – — – – these people!! It made him angry though to see all the plants of his boyhood, those ancient plants being overrun and endangered by these aggressive bushes! He’d seen how they came back with ease, you could cut them down to the dirt and they’d regrow, stronger and sprawlier than ever. So now he had decided, sitting by the creek one evening, yes, he was going to kill them by poisonous means. Continue reading “Whispering Wind and the Old Man”
She’s sitting outside her hut, cross-legged on dried grasses and pine needles, when she hears the sound of hooves: clip clop clippity clop clippity clop clip clop. She’s got a basket of purple mushrooms that she’s stringing up for drying. A basket of apples for storing in a stone lined hole in the ground. A bundle of bright yellow flowering stalks. For drying. For later. For when the wind comes blowing and soft white glitter falls from the sky. Sparkly, it’s so sparkly then when her breath turns the air white, the stars in the sky take her breath away at night! The trees are naked then, creaking as their old bones groan, and the seeds rest: sleeping until warmth awakens them and they begin their ascent from in the dark earth toward the light.
Continue reading “Spinning Gold”
Mother Rabbit turned back to the path in the woods where the light poured like nectar, fresh and unfinished, over the bumps and roots and rocks through petals and leaves; weaving in and out of which was the spark of orange she’d been searching for earlier. She was about to bound after it when she heard the voice of old Aunty Felicity Fox calling out from behind her,
“Oh Ruthie, Ruthie Rabbit! Do stop Ruth, these old bones don’t move nearly as fast as they once did! I’ve got such news to share, so imperative Continue reading “midsummer eve ii”
Whispering Wind was very excited. Stella (the blue imp) had opened up many avenues in his life, one of which had been the ability to speak with animals. Stella had proved most helpful in the matter of the beetle infestation at Rose’s farm. It had turned out that the green imp he had chased had left behind the beetles, which were able to multiply when they were seen by non-imp eyes. Furthermore, the green imps had the ability to enlarge the beetles and then ride upon their backs, which they did:: when they were going to battle. Continue reading “midsummer’s eve i”
Sugar Plum went inside her house, hand in hand with Whispering Wind.
“I believe you lost someone Wind”, she said leading him into her cozy parlour.
Seated on the embossed velvet upholstery of a rosewood chair was the blue imp in her blue tutu. She looked forlorn and was fiddling with her blue crown, which was on her lap. Her tail hung down to the ground. She looked up when the two of them entered the room and at the sight of Whispering Wind her face lit up and she jumped off the chair, leaping across to throw herself around his neck. Continue reading “Sugar Plum’s Gift”
“Rehmat had been a blackened one, as black as her jet colored hair and coal dark eyes which she could flash, fly sparks from, and sizzle at will. Disgraced, fallen from grace::a kari is what her people called her where she lived in a remote dusty community. It was ruled by a council of elders representing the various clans that made up her tribe. They governed over disputes and daily matters. She had dishonored her clan by not only falling in love with a man from another tribe but she had made it publicly known by marrying him without the approval or consent of her elders. Continue reading “rehmat’s tale::karo kari”