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
There is a lot of lore around Yew trees, but I can assure you that it’s mostly mistaken, only ever part-right, the consequence of the world seen through half-opened eyes. The only thing the lore makers have gotten right, is that Yew lore is different from the lore of other trees. All tree species have their specific magic, power, and meaning. People who are much more learned than I will tell you that Yews are associated with death and rebirth, and therefore eternity. They will tell you that Yews represent timelessness and the intelligence of the night. The Yew, they say, protects us against evil, which it very well might, but only through its true function. The Yew is associated with death for two reasons: because it is toxic, and because it makes a remarkable longbow. However if you follow time’s arrow, you will find a very different meaning for the
Rachel was a portal hunter. She’d been doing this professionally since 1988, but this was the first one she’d found. She’d known it was the real deal because of the way the light avoided the ground. This tricksy portal was hiding in plain sight, but not from her! Her decades of honed professionalism taught her to look directly at that which others pass over. She felt vindicated at last, and shook off the niggling doubts which others had imparted to her. To be honest, it wasn’t what she expected: it was a bit dirty really. She had presumed portals to the underworld would be kept pristine by their magical charms. It may well be that others are, she thought, perhaps that’s why even her trained gaze slid over their glossy charm. That this one was covered in grime was the fact which allowed her gaze to stick upon it, and thereby
They’re called the Wiblets of Oldpark Wood, but as I am sure is obvious to a knowledgeable reader like you, they are really from AlphaZenturianSix. Their claim to be from Oldpark Wood is simply a ruse to lull us into a false sense of security. For if they belong to an earth locality, then we may be less inclined to monitor their behaviour. But monitor we should, fellow earthling, monitor we should, as there is more to the Wiblets than meets the eye. The Wiblets first came to earth forty-five years ago, when the M25 had burnt a hole in the soul of parts of southern England. The Wiblets spied it from space and saw their chance to begin their slow colonisation of a new planet. As the M25 had damaged, deaded, or dispersed a great many of the indigenous natural powers of certain parts of Surrey and Kent, the land
[I wrote this earlier this year for a writing competition which I got nowhere in. I still like it, so I am posting it as my final story of the year.] You are standing on a cliff overlooking the sea. It can be any cliff, any sea, but for me it’s a Scottish cliff and a North Sea. The wind is whipping around your head, but it is not so cold that it hurts: it is a rejuvenating kind of wind. You have been here before. It is a place you come when you need to think, when you are burdened with a melancholy that you need to set free. You stand for a long time like a sentinel—seeing but not seeing, watching but not watching, hearing but not hearing—allowing the wind to move through you, carrying away the heaviness until the thought beneath is revealed. Here, there is so much