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Notes:
1. Written on 18th November, 2010
__________Author: dng
Tale #94: Beneath the weeping willow she sat down and wept
There was a girl who liked to hide. Each day she sat alone beneath the weeping willow. The branches and the boughs of the tree wrapped themselves around her to form this secret safe haven that was all her own.
Each day she cast, in her mind, a spell so strong the whole town would burn. Tears ran down her cheeks and soaked into the cotton of her blouse. Blood ran from her clenched fists into the dirt of the ground on which she sat. And the words of her spell dripped from her tongue into the protection of the tree itself, which ate them up and swallowed them whole and kept them secret from the world.
In her heart, unspoken, was another wish, one that would let her stay here forever, surrounded and safe and alone. But always, eventually, the weeping willow had to let her go, and she would return to the world that was immune to her spells of destruction, but which was trying its hardest, each day, to be the ruin of her.
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Notes:
1. Written on July 1st, 2019
2. The title is taken from By Grand Central Station I Sat Down And Wept, by Elizabeth Smart
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Notes:
1. Written on 21st October, 2009
__________Support An Accumulation Of Things
If you like the things you've read here please consider subscribing to my patreon or my ko-fi. Patreon subscribers get not just early access to content and also the occasional gift, but also my eternal gratitude. Which I'm not sure is very useful, but is certainly very real.(Ko-fi contributors probably only get the gratitude I'm afraid, but please get in touch if you want more). Thank you!Tale #93: A circle, whispering time
They built a calendar out of trees and flowers in the meadows around the town.
12 groves in a circle, a new colour blooming each month.
In January, the white of snowdrops
In February, the yellow of daffodils
In March, the green of grey willow
In April, the blue of wisteria
In May, the pink of cherry blossoms
In June, the red of poppies
In July, the honeyed yellow of catkins on sweet chestnut trees
In August, the purple velvet of tufted vetch
In September, the crimson of burnet
In October, the gold of autumn hawkbit
In November, the grey beards clinging to the branches of the clematis trees
Then December comes.
In the silence nothing grows,
but much is buried
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Notes:
1. Written on September 4, 2019
2. And reminiscent of this previous tale – The town, the forest, the past
Support An Accumulation Of Things
If you like the things you've read here please consider subscribing to my patreon or my ko-fi. Patreon subscribers get not just early access to content and also the occasional gift, but also my eternal gratitude. Which I'm not sure is very useful, but is certainly very real.(Ko-fi contributors probably only get the gratitude I'm afraid, but please get in touch if you want more). Thank you!Silence
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Notes:
1. Written on 3rd July, 2010
2. For some reason that emphasised text in the last panel seems really ominous to me
3. Now
4. Ten years later