Charlie is a snake charmer and their job is to bring on summer. I know you’re probably looking at the photo and thinking ‘where’s Charlie?’. That’s because you’re used to the idea of it being humans who charm snakes, not snakes who do the charming. Well, let me tell you all those stories are WRONG with a capital W R O N G; a product of humanity’s egocentrism which puts itself at the centre of everything. In real life, snakes charm all manner of things. As I say, Charlie charms summer, and their cousin, Sylvastina, charms the myriad oaks of Puttenham Common to grow in those perfectly rounded shapes. I was really hoping to be able to interview Sylvastina for this story, but it turns out that she’s still sleeping. Charlie is always the first one up as its them who makes it warm enough for the other snakes to get
Colin was a JJytgHQp (pronounced Thrussup) and has been living in and around Leith Hill since Neolithic times. He and a band of 40 brothers and sisters arrived in Britain in 4036 BCE with not much more than the multicoloured shells on their backs. They were quite a sight to behold, or so I’ve been told, emerging from the sea at various points around the Welsh and Cornish coasts. Like merpeople, but with less cultural baggage. At first, the inhabitants of Britain didn’t pay them no mind, as the island was sparsely populated and sharing was not a problem. There were a few ladies, of course, who wondered if the JJytgHQp’s shells could be repurposed into shelter, wind chimes, or clothing, but no one was rude enough to try to take the shells off the JJytgHQp’s back. Except, of course, Rapskalbana. Rapskalbana was the most daring lady of Britain, although she
Richard was an over-thinker, that’s why his boughs and branches were curled erratically and so close to his trunk: he couldn’t decide on the direction of growth. His stunted appendages, all cluttered and clustered around him, obscured his view. Thus, he only ever partially grasped the goings on of the woods, and in his half-knowledge there was a darkness: he always chose the most unhelpful and fearful point of view. It had been a long time since the people of the forest had tried to talk him down from whatever terrified drama he was riding on. They had exhausted their capacity for trying to make him see sense. Nowadays, they observed him from a distance, and resigned to accept him as chaotic and panic-ridden. There goes Richard, they’d say, talking up the devil from the deep. Richard was alone in his unhappy corner of the forest, and only the young and
This here tree is a special tree. It does not have a formal name, but the Society of the Ladies of Blackheath Common told me they call it the Droplet Tree. The Society has lore which dates back centuries, the most important being that only the most dedicated early risers have a chance of encountering the Droplet Tree, as the sun takes the droplets once it gets high enough over the horizon. After which, the Droplet Tree becomes indistinguishable from other trees; the magic is broken. According to the Society, when the early morning walker encounters the Tree, and should they take the time to pause and wonder, they will find a different scene reflected in each and every glassy bead suspended from its branches. Each walker’s set of scenes will cut across a particular emotion. So, for instance, when Betsy first encountered the Tree, her scenes were a scattering of
Bethany was a Friesian, but she was none too happy about it. Probably if she’d been a Highland cow, this story would never have been written, mellow and fluffy as she would likely have been. But Bethany was a Friesian and had a temper to match, righteous though it was. She was also—hmm, how can I say?—well, she didn’t half go on a bit. Anyway, the first time it happened was the winter of 1928. Bethany had observed the way the farmhand treated the farmer’s daughter over the summer months and her temper was getting frayed. Truth be told, Bethany was in love with the farmer’s daughter: the way her plump and steady arms and her soft and gentle hands pulled gently at Bethany’s teats was endearing to her. Plus, the farmer’s daughter told Bethany all her secrets, and Bethany found herself believing she was the maiden’s protector. It’s why she