Thursday, 25 April 2013

The Sheep Sisters

Walking through the woods, elder scolding the younger, who after stamping her feet becomes distracted by a glade of bluebells and off she scampers.

The elder knows well not to leave the path for wild teeth and claws live amongst the rocks and roots so she calls and bleats for her wayward siblings return. However, little sister is having so much fun dancing and picking flowers, that even her cautious elder sister finds she silences her own counsel, tucks it behind a plump pillow far away from her ears and joins her.

 After much merry making they sit down to picnic and rest awhile but soon the sun drops behind the trees and in the air grows a chill. They decide to head back to the path but in the fading light mistake one trail for another, the one that will lead them further and further into the woods.

Our dear elder starts to fret as unfamiliar scents close in around her nose and throat, they are lost and as night draws near, they have no choice but to find a spot to rest until daybreak...

Knowing more of the world than her rambunctious sprite of a sister, she admits to herself that this does not bode well and so she peers warily through the trees but can see nothing beyond the brambles that line their path.

 The younger wrinkles her nose at a strange breeze and skips on.

Two yellow eyes, as yet unseen, fix on the sisters...

The Governessa collects their tiny bones and sings her melancholy song until at last she finds these two lost souls and secretes them safely away under the roots of the old willow.

Tuesday, 23 April 2013

The Becoming of Hilde Of Mossenbone




Under the red moon you'll find her, near the crossing ways of the withered woods in which she lives.  Draped in raggedy threads adorned with bone, twig and thorn, dear Hilde feasts on wormwood and woodlouse foraged from the forest floor. 

Long bony fingers dig deep to reveal... she never shies away from what lies decaying on the damp, dark earth buried under leaf litter and snail silver. 

Exhaling her quiet song through the hollow of an old bone she wanders the woods as silent as the gathering mist, eyes gleaming like midnight pools in the darkest hour of night.

 Hilde Of Mossenbone is a solitary soul and has emerged from the song of the wild woods, born of dirt, leaf, fungi and moss covered bones. 

A mouse skull, tiny twig and thorn adorn her skirts of hand dyed muslin, vintage silk, felted wool and a bustle of moss. 

 Hers is a bodice of swan feathers,

etched on her throat is a waning crescent moon as red as blood, 

 down her sinewy spine trails a sickle shaped bone on dark red thread.