ill-met by moonlight

no birds to lead you home

[yetibaba]

[helleborehound-blog]

You came to me in your cloak made of tatters, with the dog made of bone at your side.

"Godmother," by T. Kingfisher

[helleborehound-blog]

Omg omg omg! What are you? Are you a reincarnation of Hans Christian Andersen himself? I LOVED your fics at ao3, I can't imagine what kind of talent and background and reading you have to be able to write those masterpieces! You gave me a wonderful, wonderful escape from RL and I loved them, loved them I'm telling you! Those are the best fairy tales I've ever read in my life! I'm in my 30s by the way. I'm in awe! Pls never stop writing? And pls mention what you read? Thank you so much!

Whoa, totally unexpected fan mail! (You just made my day.) 

I grew up reading the original Grimm and Andersen and Andrew Lang's Fairy Book anthologies, and I have a taste for war fiction, which probably explains my love of stories that do not end well for anyone involved. 

I am planning to write a few DVD-commentary type blurbs to offer background on some of the more involved stories; keep an eye on jessie-menken.tumblr.com 

Thank you again for the feedback! 

[witchinqhour]

[helleborehound-blog]

Your Grace, Your Highness – what term of art do you prefer? No book on etiquette or statecraft in this vast library gives me your form of address. 

[girlishways]

[helleborehound-blog]

Winter passed, and spring returned. I planted hedge of wicked briars and a trench of stinging nettles to shield my garden from curious visitors. I sowed the garden beds with nightshade, with henbane and mandrake. With hellebore, with foxglove and monkshood. For all I told myself that it served as both defense and a warning, I knew it for the empty gesture that it was: latching the barn door well after the horse had already bolted.

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[bpieribeiro]

[helleborehound-blog]

See the rose revealed for what it is: a threadbare excuse.

[disorder]

[helleborehound-blog]

“When the steward comes for you tomorrow, he will take you to the king. He will be seated at another banquet of subtleties. You will see amongst them a bramble complete with thorns, leaves and blackberries. Take it, and present it to the king. Tell him that so does the berry grow from thorn, so from adversity blooms sweetness.”

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[alicecarrier-deactivated2018120]

[helleborehound-blog]

With autumn came pressed cider and bonfires of crackling leaves. The streets were bright with lanterns, and spirits high. The townsfolk had coin in their pockets, and were eager to spend it. My days were busy, and I dreamed of sugar at night.

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[helleborehound-blog]

Ay at the end of seven years We pay a tiend to hell; I am sae fair and fu o flesh, I’m feard it be mysel.

The Ballad of Tam Lin

[artofnarrative]

[helleborehound-blog]

The princess grew and became a miracle of beauty. One day, when she had just reached her fifteenth year, the king and queen went away, leaving her all alone in the castle. She walked from room to room, following her heart's desire. Finally she came to an old tower. A narrow stairway led up to it. Being curious, she climbed up until she came to a small door. There was a small yellow key in the door. She turned it, and the door sprang open. She found herself in a small room where an old woman sat spinning flax.

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Edmund Dulac ~ The Sleeping Beauty and Other Tales From the Old French ~ 1910 ~ via Myth & Moor

[hellogarlic]

[helleborehound-blog]

Perhaps she dreams of coarse peasant bread with sweet yellow butter. 

[helleborehound-blog]

Ceres went to hell with no sense of time. When she looked back all that she could see was the arteries of silver in the rock, the diligence of rivers always at one level, wheat at one height, leaves of a single colour, the same distance in the usual light; a seasonless, unscarred earth.

Eavan Boland, "The Making of an Irish Goddess," from the collection Outside History

[satan-achia]

[helleborehound-blog]

I was a child of the woods. A foundling, raised by a huntsman and his wife, but loved as though I had been their own.I grew up in the shade of poplars and linden, with acorns and horse-chestnuts for playthings.

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[magictransistor]

[helleborehound-blog]

"Cinderella went immediately to gather the finest pumpkin she could get, and brought it to her godmother, not being able to imagine how this pumpkin could help her go to the ball. Her godmother scooped out all the inside of it, leaving nothing but the rind. Having done this, she struck the pumpkin with her wand, and it was instantly turned into a fine coach, gilded all over with gold."

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Gustave Doré; Cendrillon (Cinderella), from the Fairy Tales of the Brothers Grimm, c. 1867.

[witchcraftmadesimple]

[helleborehound-blog]

"When shall we three meet again, in thunder, lightning, or in rain?"

[helleborehound-blog]

I candied apples in the night, dipping each fruit in molten sugar crimson with cochineal. Rows like a regiment of soldiers lined up along my workbench, awaiting an onslaught of teeth and tongue. 

[helleborehound-blog]

If I were you, I wouldn’t believe the stories that humans tell about ocean-dwellers.

Remember that stories are always more telling of the tellers than of those of whom the story is told. Bards and minstrels have their keep to earn, and they are not above weaving fancies from whole cloth. You would do well to doubt the words of seamen and lighthouse-keepers, too. Sea-cows and driftwood are easily mistaken for other shapes in the water, and the mind does strange things in the company of rum and loneliness.

Mark my words: only fools and sailors ascribe truth to human stories of the sea.

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[whatbexlovestoday]

[helleborehound-blog]

"Far out in the ocean the water is as blue as the petals of the loveliest cornflower, and as clear as the purest glass. But it is very deep too. It goes down deeper than any anchor rope will go, and many, many steeples would have to be stacked one on top of another to reach from the bottom to the surface of the sea. It is down there that the sea folk live."

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Illustration: Edmund Dulac, Hans Christian Andersen’s "The Little Mermaid"