a thousand and one tales

Tale #84: The Fairy Tale Heart

There lived a girl in the forest, her blood as dark and as thick as molasses, her voice as loud and as clear and as beauitful as a bell. When the huntsman sliced her open, her blood congealed in the hole he left in her chest, a scab as substantial as the heart he had stolen, and much more precious, for what worth is a heart ripped free from the warmth that sustains it, the love that makes it beat, beat, beat.

For years afterwards she would dream of the queen in the castle, her lips black with blood, her teeth feasting on the flesh of her heart. She would dream of the meat and gristle of it catching in the Queen’s throat, choking her dead in the vast palace hall as her guests watched on, the embarrassment of it all as great as the pain, each final choking cry quieter than the last, until finally they just stop.

The dream was all the revenge the girl ever sought, all the revenge she ever needed, all the revenge she would ever get. And in her chest her scabbed-up fairy tale heart beat on, as defiant as any made of flesh, as loud and as clear and as beautiful as any drum, more vital than any of the real hearts hidden beneath the brittle rib cages of the powerful, and the cruel, and all those others who remain silent enough to sustain them.

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Notes:

1. Written on April 1st, 2019
2. This originally had slightly irregular formatting
3. on the last few words of each paragraph
4. But this wordpress theme can’t seem to cope with that
5. so it’s all gone

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Tale #83: Above the clouds, beneath the sun

Don’t go
Don’t go
his father said.

Don’t fly
Don’t fly

Keep your feet on the ground
and your heart at home

But Icarus went

Icarus flew
up towards the sun
and the shadow
that he saw there
the shadow he’d dreamt of
the shadow he’d missed
ever since he was young

And as he rose
above the clouds
as his eyes wept
from the brightness of the sun
and his arms faltered
from the weight of his wings
and questions
and doubts
clouded his mind
a voice said
down to him

“Our father had wings, but was afraid to fly”
“Our father had eyes but was afraid of what he might see”
“Our father had a wife, and was afraid she’d be free.”
“Our father had children, but was afraid we’d leave.”

And Icarus looked up at the shadow above him
and saw
the sister
of whom he’d always dreamt

And Icarus looked down
at their house below them
and at the sky around them
and the world
that stretched out
bigger and bigger
as he rose
higher and higher

He held out his hand
to his sister above him
and she took it
and held it
and never let go
and together they flew
they flew

They flew

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Notes:

1. Written on August 10th, 2019

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Tale #82: Ariadne’s Web

There is, of course, the story of Ariadne and her ball of string. It’s always told as if that was her way of keeping Theseus from getting lost. But really it was to tie him in place.

Just as her brother was half bull, she was, as her name alludes, half spider. And with every adventurer she lured in with her tricks, with every length of twine she gave them, she slowly remade her brother’s labyrinth into her web.

And, despite what the stories say, no-one ever escaped.

How many entered that labyrinth? How many in good faith took with them her wool? Unspooling it behind them, each loop they left behind a comfort to their terrified hearts, a protection against disorientation, despair.

In reality all it did was lead her brother to them. He left no trail, yet his victim’s always did. In his fury he tore those poor men limb from limb, ate the hearts from their chests, sucked the marrow from their bones, watched in the dark with demented glee as the last lights of life left their dying eyes.

Ariadne lay her eggs in the bodies he left. When they hatched, her children feasted on the rotting flesh in which they had been born, before, eventually, they scuttled down the delicate trails of her web that stretched out around them.

Out from the dark, towards the light of the town.

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Notes:

1. Written in January 2016
2. One final thing
3. For that maze
4. Of ours

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Tale #81: How to escape from every maze in the world

I listen to my dad. Not always, but often. He’s my father and I don’t want to let him down.

He told me once how to escape from any maze in the world. You just hold out your left hand, let it touch the wall by your side, and then, no matter where in the maze you are, you just follow it until you escape.

It might take a while, he said, but it’ll never let you down. Try it. Put your hand here, and start walking. Trace your fingers along the wall and follow them to freedom.

And so I tried it. I held my left hand out and placed my palm against the wall, and then stepped forward, one step, then two. On and on.

In this way I followed my father’s advice. Followed the path my finger traced along this wall. Followed the path like he said I should.

I have followed and followed and followed his loop forever. Have, in all my years, never found my way to anywhere at all.

__________

Notes:

1. Written in January 2016
2. For that Maze
3. Again

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Tale #80: A Labyrinth Of Streets

The labyrinth was built over several generations, new pathways added every few years at the whims of each successive lord, until eventually the maze was so large and complex, so tightly woven and dense in self-referentiality, that the people of the town it encompassed (and embraced, and contained) could not only never find their way out, they could never reliably find their way home either.

Over time they settled in new houses, made new families, found new friends, and formed new communities to replace the ones they had lost in the ever-branching complexity of this prison in which they lived.

The lords grew ever angrier at this resistance. They built the maze ever larger, wove it ever tight, progressed, they imagined, ever closer to their dreams of complete control.

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Notes:

1. Written on July 3rd, 2019

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Support An Accumulation Of Things

If you like the things you've read here please consider subscribing to my patreon or my ko-fi.

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(Ko-fi contributors probably only get the gratitude I'm afraid, but please get in touch if you want more).

Thank you!