Once upon a time, there was a girl who always tried her hardest at everything. It was a time when the earth was dry and made of rubble and dust. A time when everything was scorched, a little red, and very, very dry. The girl was the last girl but she did her best not to think about that. She walked the land picking up this thing and that, rearranging them into interesting shapes so that she might populate the sparse land with something like creation. So that when her eye scanned a horizon, she would know where she had lately been and where was still to traverse. As time went by, the last girl learnt to dig into the ground to find things to make her sculptures with. She found bones and roots, rocks and ancient mycelial webs, shells and fossils: the myriad remnants of an ancient world. She brought
This elegant sculpture is of King Harold, the legendary Horse King of Selhurst Common. I know it’s a bit far away, but there was a fence in the way, so I couldn’t get any closer. Whilst the landowner is enlightened enough to commemorate empires of horses, they are not enlightened enough to let people get close enough to properly worship the past. If I could have gotten closer, the base on which the horse head is resting would reveal to me an epitaph relating the mighty deeds of King Harold, from a time not too long ago. A time which could have extended to the present, if we human’s hadn’t turned out to be so narcissistic about who we celebrated and raised up in our myths and legends. In the olden days, we shared the mythic space with legendary beasts of which King Harold is a type. Beasts which soared in
This is PoppingJock, or rather, this was once PoppingJock before he got banished from his community and turned into a fence post. He’s got a lovely view over Abbot’s Cliff though; Jumpalina is to thank for that. PoppingJock was once a proud member of the Ancient Order of Kentish Karate who have protected the citizens of Kent since the time of earliest Doggerland. Like all members of the Order, PoppingJock was once a Warrior Tree who acted under the cover of nighttime to protect and serve the day creatures. During the day, Order members lived, and in fact still do live, under the hills of Kent. They’ve burrowed tunnels and great halls, which they reinforced with their dead. PoppingJock’s kin first came to Kent from the east via Doggerland in response to a call for help. Kentish day creatures were ruled over by two warring clans—the Blausters and the Rotters—who tyrannised
This is the lair of the rare Ducksect. The Ducksect first emerged as a distinct being in 347BCE and currently lives in Alice Holt Forest. It told me that it also has a cousin on its mother’s side in the New Forest, so I will have to venture there one of these days and try to solicit an interview. Ducksect said it’d happily put in a good word for a highly reputable publication such as mine. The Ducksect is a pirate and that’s why it flies its flagweb outside its lair. Its voyages on the sea started from a young age, and are, sadly, rooted in tragedy… You see, the Ducksect is the product of an unholy but loving union between a duck and a form of insect sadly extinct but which might be considered a form of beetle. Both beings were egg layers and madly in love and so felt
Once upon a time, there were feathers dangling like this everywhere. They were suspended at different levels, so you’d never know where on your body you might get tickled. Some people were so sensitive to it, that they spent their lives crawling on their bellies. Those people eventually evolved into snakes and other low lying reptiles. Back then, the species that didn’t have fur used to map all their journeys to maximise feather tickling. They’d often develop elaborate dances and take the extra long way, just to pass by their favourite feather or two. Things were better for people then, because capitalism didn’t exist, and no one lived or worked in a cubicle. People just twisted and turned through forests of feathers before getting on with whatever it was that needed doing. People twirled much more back then. They would stick their arms out wide, tip their heads back, and turn.