~ Feathers fall in the forest ~

Feathers fall in the forest,

through the cracks of the early morning sun,

footprints buffered by waves that hit shore- they too fade,

for like seasons that flitter past the underbelly of a tomb, she weathers it all,

weighed down with armour, past the-

obscene feathers glistening with an acid curling of poisoned dreams

Those doors locked shut should never be opened,

the storms of sorrow that pull the corners,

like phantom strings of a ventriloquist’s muse,

marooned on the shipwreck of her youth,

it grows roots, flames that lick the skin of furnished walls,

Porcelain figures, shaken loose from oiled pages kept in shadows

For Hell is here.

Shrouded by grotesque wisps; eye sockets distorted; shattered,

don’t touch – don’t look,

through lantern flames she weaves through the deepest part of night,

whispering with strength beyond the raging of a tempest- ’follow me’,

and reflected beyond the seductive eyes of a devil- you do.

Copyright © 2019 by Kate W J White (All Rights Reserved)

~ The mystery of ‘The Phantom of the Opera’ ~ 🖤🌹

‘The Phantom of the Opera’ is definitely a tale about escapism- Christine spends her whole life being coached by a ‘mysterious voice’ that mentors her to do better and achieve beyond what she thought possible, when she finally steps through the mirror and meets the man behind the voice, her illusion shatters and she is repulsed by his deformed face. 💀

Instead, she goes for her childhood sweetheart Raoul, and, the phantom realises that despite all he’s given her, she still turns away in horror. She pities him and yet still agrees to lay a trap, by going along with his grand plans for her on the stage, but in the end, his jealousy still destroys them (and the opera house which is also his home.) 🎼🎭

We see him as the villain of the story, but we also feel sorry for him, hiding away with no love and kindness- and perhaps it’s this forced solitude & space to develop his talents that turns him into a musical genius. There are many things to learn from it, that you can’t force love, that you can’t expect too much from anyone, yet also the power of forgiveness and also dedication throughout a lifetime. 🖤🖤

Another thing I love about the Phantom are the aesthetics, the opulent backdrop & historical references- after all it’s a theatre, the masquerade balls, the grandness, and of course, the amazing soundtrack!! Andrew Lloyd Webber really transformed it and made it his own- hence why it still stands the test of time. 👰🏻👻🎞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

~ 𝔔𝔲𝔬𝔱𝔢 𝔠𝔬𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔯~

“They played at hearts as other children might play at ball; only, as it was really their two hearts that they flung to and fro, they had to be very, very handy to catch them, each time, without hurting them.”

“And, despite the care which she took to look behind her at every moment, she failed to see a shadow which followed her like her own shadow, which stopped when she stopped, which started again when she did and which made no more noise than a well-conducted shadow should.”

20,000 leagues under the sea

Having started “20,000 leagues under the sea”, watched “Aquaman”, “Jaws” & “Blue Planet-the deep” all in the space of 2 days ~ it’s no surprise when I started dreaming of being violently flung about on a boat swept by ominous looking black waves. 🌊

My phone was sliding around on deck, and I had just managed to catch it in one hand with triumph- only to discover my 2 companions were sinking under the tide (we were on our way to attend a party.) Needless to say, I arrived at the party without them… though I did give all my best efforts searching around, it turned into an affair like “The Great Gatsby”, they had different personas and were trying their best to evade me…

I’ve always been intrigued with creatures deep under the ocean. Their bulbous eyes and sharp teeth, their luminescent, transparent bodies, their spongy blob like exteriors… stuff out of nightmares…(which, I love calling up on the projector to show my students just to see their reaction!)

They say an iceberg is largely 3/4 under the surface. There are things below those tranquil waters that are beyond our imagination, and will still continue to lie unobserved.

So when the ‘Nautilus’ arrives and causes havoc in the seas around the world, it’s not hard that it could be mistaken for a narwhal or a cross between a whale/sea unicorn with its impenetrable exterior. It raises panic enough that the best captains rally and send forth a ship ready to capture, and, sadly slaughter this troublesome creature…Only to realise, it’s not a beast at all coming forth from the depths, but indeed a vessel, captained by none other than the infamous Captain Nemo. At this point our 3 protagonists have nothing else to do but sit, wait, and be carried along in an adventure like no other (since they’ve seen too much to be allowed to return home to dry land.) 🙄

Captain Nemo lets our guests into many secrets about the creation of his vessel (as surely it defies science), but we know this is only the beginning. If it’s anything like “5 weeks in a balloon”, I know that there will be no shortage of crazy events, the possible harpooning of sea spiders and giant squids, oxygen shortage, walking on the ocean bed and many, new discoveries.

And…if it’s anything like Dr Ferguson, Kennedy & faithful Joe- hanging onto the last trimmings of their damaged hot air balloon, shot at by arrows above enemy waters and praying to be saved~ we can only hope this Parisian professor & his friends get back safely (along with the unsuspecting sea creatures that cross their path!)

Edge of Silence

As we sit on the edge of silence,

gazing down to what has come before,

unrivalled dreams, stained apricot by passing suns,

like rain through our fingers no more,

mirrored strength, as marble hardens around-

our finest inspirations to fill the void,

as seasons flash, eternal;

never abandoned, relentless, never destroyed,

a memory flits by with her wings of silk,

so transparent and pure in the light,

of shadows that once were, carrying their weight,

or so nobly let dreams alight.

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Copyright © 2016 by Kate W J White (All Rights Reserved)

Urgent! Illustrator needed!!

So, a while ago I posted a cover of my book ‘Caskets of Ice‘, and after much deliberation and much inspired from the wonderful designs I found in “The Sleeper & the Spindle” by Neil Gaiman (Illustrated by Chris Riddell) I have come to the conclusion…..

That I am officially looking for an illustrator for my work. It is action/adventure fantasy, with gothic dreamy aspects with plenty of queens and castles that will appeal to all lovers of fairy stories-though not 100% a fairytale. It blurs the boundaries between dreams and reality from a perspective of a girl who yearns to escape from her daily life, trapped in a world which is far scarier, creepier and sometimes, downright brutal than she ever imagines.

It celebrates the imagination, and when dreams come alive.

All ideas are welcome! Below is the existing cover, designed by the talented Bonnie:

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Here are examples of some of the illustrations you may see in “The Sleeper & the Spindle”, with their wonderful black and white drawings and gold leaf.

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Please drop me a message if you are interested in collaboration, or you want to know more information about the book. Let’s begin on this magical journey together…

Kate 🙂

 

A Happy Story

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“So go on, tell me a story.”
I wish I knew how a happy story began. Instead I start with “it happened with the whispering folds of a satin curtain sliding down a staircase. I hid behind the library door as the rasping breath of the priest added to the dust expiring from the floorboards. Every cell of his body strained towards the silver signet ring that dangled tantalising from the bronze statue. He was consumed by desire, iris’s dilating as he imagined the power that would soon course through his veins…”
“This doesn’t sound promising.”
“Cindy can you stop interrupting me?” My seven year old cousin sighs. Her lips are pressed together in a disapproving smoulder, like a dried apricot.
“Once upon a time,” I try again “there was a girl who lived in a cottage, shrouded by a crab apple tree and a blue summerhouse, and a yellow rose bush that blocked out all light.” The beginning sounded crap but I hoped the faster I spoke, the less chance I would be interrupted by her majesty, the story critic Queen. “Sombre ideas flittering in her mind like dancing piano keys. She dreamed of a castle in the sky made entirely of ice crystals, where a figure in a black suit roamed the corridors carrying nothing but a candle, searching. Searching for someone at least, and until he found her, he would not rest. Now, when the light of dusk faded, the clouds shot fountains of ink like a canon, with lanterns to herald the-”
“Bored.”
“You hardly listened.”
“I just want a bedtime story.”
I take a deep breath. The bobbled underside of my slippers make a plastic squelch on the vinyl as I meander my way to the bookshelf, past crushed pizza boxes, phone charger wires and Fanta in sticky glass goblets. I yank a book viciously from the pile, fling it open and prod the black and white illustration with my index finger.
“There, the Blue Bird. It’s a great one.”
“I don’t want a Grimm’s fairytale. How old am I?”
“You tell me.” I try to match her sarcasm, but instead my eyes bulge like a dead fish as I try to maintain the wide eyed look of intimidation.
“Forget it. I’ll read myself.” She peels away the covers and vanishes from the room. I feel oddly cheated. And it is in this state of being pissed off that I drift to sleep curled like a python at the foot of the bed.

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Copyright © 2014 by Kate W J White (All Rights Reserved)