I enjoy reading fairy tales.
Well, maybe I should say, I enjoy reading fairy tales before they were hijacked by Disney. Not that there is anything wrong with a nice, pretty ‘Happily Ever After’ in a story, there isn’t. I like dancing mice, talking crabs and funny snowmen as much as the next person.
But with my nice HEA, I want some substance, some grit and some dark spicy flavor. What I love, when it comes to fairy tales, are the dark, tragic cautionary tales of old. Fairy tales, originally? Were meant to be scary. So scary in fact, just hearing them would strike fear in the hearts of every child who heard them, to prevent them from partaking in certain activities their parents warned them against… activities such as talking to strangers, wandering far from home, the hazards of pride and the perils of love.
I miss the days of fairy tales of old, when one was unsure of the outcome of the story. When you questioned, fretted and grew anxious about the end.
Imagine, if you will…
Being haunted, hunted, by a magic so dark you know no escape. All of your life lay veiled, shadowed and coldly brittle, by a voracious entity who has been after you as long as you can remember. From a time born in the cusp of your childhood, and hence forever since, this evil specter has reached for you with clawed talons. It has craved you with malicious intent. Thus far, the strength of your valor has held the monster at bay, but you know it waits for the moment when the weakness of your sinful desires will release from Hell the wrath of all its abhorrent desires down upon you.
And that moment draws near.
Penny Willan and the Well, will be released and the fairy tale description of ode above, will not have to be imagined…
No, by you it will be experienced.
Excerpt, Penny Willan and the Well, Book of Pride
The night strummed with resolve,
into the night Guy dissolved,
from his brother’s retribution he did flee.
Knowing Penny would tell
of his attack, which she befell,
his brother would enact vengeance for she.
Chanted whispers slithered through tress,
the air hissed of the coming, so pleased,
from a dark power disjointed and broken.
The Hell-well called to Guy,
with a lyrical chanting cry
of malicious dreams bespoken.
The moon was shaded red,
from blood-light the night fed,
a celebration of powers soon returned.
Wolves howled loudly, they screamed,
and their prey quickly gleamed
ill needs upon them would be churned.
The wind whispered, so cold,
and within it foretold
of the evils it was about to impart.
The air trickled with ice,
that gripped the lungs in a vise,
from the mortal ‘twas about to outsmart.
A return to fairy tales of Ode…
More excerpts to come.