Below is one of my 100 word stories run amuck. I quite like some of the imagery, and it's been awhile since I dropped some words here, so I've decided to share.
The borrowed line I used for this story has been removed, so the words are all mine. That said, I highly recommend everyone dive into the book said line came from, The Memory Theater by Karin Tidbeck. It is full of beautiful visions and ethereal horror and I loved it entirely.
I hope you are all healthy and well 💙
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I live for the revels. The nights under the hill. When the fae be free to let down their disguises; opening the door to their inbetween world, those dark shadows and diamond cobwebs.
It is inside these moments the fae be allowed to rip open their skin, their hair and souls. To reveal their true smiles. Smiles of teeth and coal and ruthless knives. Knives dipped in red, sometimes rubies, moretimes blood.
And in their born form they be such glorious creatures, with emeralds in their hearts and madness in their wiles.
Dancin’ ’till they set themselves afire. An’ such fun they have, tearin’ ‘part their captures. Laughin’, cacklin’ , so gleeful all the while…
Come dawnbreak they will fall into drunken dreams. Rising again only with the moon, with no memory of the night before. Only visions of what was still to come. It was that remembering that drives them mad. The reason they be feverishly sewin’ back together their masks, fixin’ them on with sea glass and glamour, so they once more be safe to go out into the above place, searchin’ for their lost hours. For hidden secrets they didn’t know had yet to become.
But always on solistice and equinox they return. To the underhill, to their inbetween world. Bristlin’ with desire,
with the need to be fire, to be seen, tasted, revered, wild.
And though they know it not, I’d be there too. Hidin’ inside those cobwebs and shadows….observing’ collecting’
pickin’ up the stories, then piecin’ the answers together.
So that one day the world might know these monsters. Tell their stories once they’ve gone forever. Which they will be once I’ve done with them.
Yes I, another beautiful nightmare. I, their final sadness, still to come.
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