"thanks", "The Adventures of a Lone Princess", "The Golden Afternoon", "Thumbelina, the Lost Fairy", and Marie

"thanks"

If my feelings don't reach you, then...

(I've actually already posted "thanks", but it looks much better in this picture, doesn't it?)

"The Adventures of a Lone Princess"

She always dreamt of pictures, and she would do anything to become them.

"The Golden Afternoon"

The warm glow of sunflowers, afternoon tea, and you.

"Thumbelina, the Lost Fairy"

Always make certain to be lost. Always make certain to find the way back.

(Thanks so much to my friend, Dorothy, for posing as Thumbelina.)

Finally, here is the (fixed) character artwork for Marie:

(Namely, the shape of her mouth was fixed, her eyebrows and eyelashes were darkened so she looks less washed-out, and because it's the original file, the colours and picture quality look better... I'm posting it as more of a preview, though; when I've done the character artwork for the other characters who appear earlier in the story, I'll post it in full size and with character information).

The Library in the World Tree

Those who fear truth cannot be made to turn their eyes to it. Even so, will you open the door?
  

'What is your name, child?' said the Librarian.
  

'I--I don't know, sir.'
 
He cautiously stepped closer, with the same look of fatherly kindness an ordinary man would have had if I were a baby rabbit. I recognised him as the Magician who showed me the winter fireflies.
  
'Are you lost?'
 
I thought for a moment, 'No, sir.' After running away from the book-burners into the forest, I couldn't possibly return, could I--possibly? They have probably already stopped believing in me; I am an impossibility, after all.
 
'What is it you wish for?'
 
The Library was filled with books which only existed there (along with the few books existing outside its trunk). There was all of this knowledge they would never know about--all of this knowledge I had never known about. Now that I knew the way to this tree, I could never possibly forget it, given to being lost in the forest as I was. There is no 'road back' anymore.*
 
'Please, sir,' I began with the immature frailty of a baby rabbit. 'I want to learn everything in this Library.'
 
The Librarian smiled warmly and gestured for me to follow him. 'I've been waiting for you, my apprentice.'
 
--
 
I thought I'd forgotten how to write, but perhaps it was really that words are not quite enough to tell my stories. If not 'to write', what is quite enough? 'To draw'? 'To sing'? 'To read', 'to bake', 'to dream'? To 'play with dolls', 'hold stuffed animals', 'cut, pin, and sew', 'string beads and bend wires'? English? German, Japanese? Spanish, Dutch, Latin, Finnish, Italian, Gaelic? Would even Angelic be quite enough?
 
The only thing quite enough to tell a story is 'to live'.
(Still, I want to continue to write.)
 
--
 
Image is not mine.
 
*Even now that I've been writing quite a bit since earlier this year, I still have trouble finding just the right words in English. (My thoughts are a mix of English, Japanese, German, pictures, colours, songs, voices, scenes, and tastes.) The sentence I would have liked to write is, 'Kaerimichi wa mō imasen.' 'Kaerimichi' literally means 'returning path/road'; the sentence means 'The returning path is no longer there,' or 'The returning path no longer exists.'

Lost Story No. 21: The Ghost Story of Marienne; or, The Secret Halloween Party at Midnight; Part I

I woke at midnight to celebrate a secret Halloween. Rolled up striped stockings, slipped into my nicest black dress with lots of panniers underneath, fastened my prettiest shoes I never wear, tied my hair in ribbons, imagined I had a pretty little black hat. I couldn't leave the house for fear of waking up the Lady and her Husband, so I went to Wonderland.

Bruder and Schwester were waiting there, in an odd village I'd never seen but called Home anyway. They had changed; they were the Bruder and Schwester from that time before, when they were a good deal younger and I was a little bit older, when it was only the three of us in that tree-shielded house, when we'd forgotten who we were again. They had dressed for the occasion, too. Hand in hand, we walked through the jack-o'-lantern lit village and into the Forest.

In the Forest, we met a story-teller. His stories were short and never seemed to have an ending; he told us several stories of girls who wandered in the woods at night and one story of a marionette who fell in love with a certain piper. As he began a longer story about a dead bride who fell in love with a living bridegroom, a crow picked him up in its beak and carried him away.

We walked deeper into the Forest where time stopped at midnight to the House of Sweets where time stopped on Halloween, stepping through the shortbread door to the some-hundred-year-old Halloween party. Spiced black tea and German biscuits and marshmallows and fine china made of sugar candy and a pumpkin pie (which, sadly, I had made with tinned pumpkin, as it was really July outside of the Forest) were set out on a Baumkuchen table surrounded by guests without faces. After tea, I carved a face into a red apple. The Hostess's sweet voice cut through the silent chatter, announcing that the dances would begin.

Bruder took my hand and asked me to dance with him. (I could reach his shoulder rather easily then, he didn't even need to bend down a bit.) The songs played from nowhere; some were blackberry jam, some were chocolates, some were crystallised ginger, some were treacle, all were waltzes. I danced blindfolded. Though I could remember the box step, my feet had forgotten it (as they hadn't waltzed in so long) and soon changed to the waltz I had learnt first, down-up-up, down-up-up, but they were still too slow to match the song's rhythm. Bruder smiled patiently. Finally, a slower waltz played; it didn't taste of sweets, only a starless night sky. Though it was such a death-like song, my feet were livelier than ever. Turning, then spinning, I fell into a dizzy sleep, but my feet danced faster and faster.

When the dance ended, the blindfold disappeared; though my eyes had opened, the room faded away (as did my feeling and my balance), and I heard myself land on the floor as though I had been standing beside myself. The room reappeared quickly, and I found the hostess standing over me, staring as though she were planning something. In that moment, I saw that the hostess was none other than Marienne (the girl Hans had been searching so sadly for). Upon hearing his name, her expression softened; 'Let's go Home together,' Bruder said. Before leaving, I contemplated whether or not I would eat the apple I'd carved (which I then realised was poisoned). I set it on the ground instead, and we walked together, Bruder, Schwester, Marienne, and I, away from the endless party in the endless night with its faceless guests.

I bathed in pumpkin and cinnamon and milk and honey and soap bubbles once Home. As we said our 'good night's, I leaned against Schwester's shoulder, which, naturally, surprised her. 'Just for now, please--?' Silently, she smiled a bit. I slept beside Bruder just as I had in that time when I always cried. 'Bruder?' I looked into his eyes, wider then than they are now (but just as gentle). 'You're going to disappear when morning comes, aren't you?' I could no longer look into his face. 'I don't want for you to disappear.' He smiled a little sadly and squeezed my hand. (I didn't see him smile a little sadly, but he always smiles a little sadly at me, especially when I cry.) I fell into a quiet sleep.

I woke to daylight and aloneness (as expected). Somehow, though, I'd felt as though nothing had been resolved, and, just as I'd thought that, I realised that I was still in Wonderland, still in that house I'd probably seen before and called Home.

Although I normally post photos and old-fashioned styled artwork, these images suit the story best; in order of first appearance, they are from: the animated music video for the song 'Mrs. Pumpkin's Comical Dream'; the opening video to the video game 'Zettai Meikyuu Grimm' (or 'Labyrinth of Grimm'); and the opening video to the animated adaptation of 'Umineko no Naku Koro ni' (or 'When the Seagulls Cry'). Also, please do excuse any technical difficulties; I tried to use a cut so that the post would not appear so lengthy on the main page, but it doesn't seem to be working, and now I can't delete it.

papilio glaucus

Photo credit.

A butterfly started a game of tag with me yesterday. I turned around and saw it fluttering excitedly behind me; it was a tiger swallowtail butterfly (I know them by heart). I chased after her (as I always do) but then remembered that I had to walk with the Lady. When I turned around, the butterfly had turned into a bird and flew away.

Today is Mother's Day. I hold my tiger swallowtail butterfly in its Snow White coffin to my chest and uncover it to kiss its wing. It pains me so much when the Lady introduces me as her daughter; she doesn't know that I'm a little changeling girl. I will bake her a cake today, but in my heart of hearts, it will be for Mama. Mama, dear tiger swallowtail butterfly, please don't fly away; though I have wings, I can't fly after you. I love you.

thanks

Drawing by me.

Emilia and the Wolf.

The Magician and Fireflies

Image found on Google Images.


On a cool, quiet night, I crept outside to meet someone. Everything seemed silent, sleeping. I could not remember who it was I was meeting or why, but it all seemed perfectly reasonable, as most dreams do.

Then, in a sort of forest clearing, I found him. A young man with dark, tanned skin and soft hair the colour of the moon; he stood wearing a long coat just slightly bluer than the evening sky. I have tried to draw him, but, though my memory of him seems so vivid, his image disappears when I try to see him more clearly. Floating around the clearing were what I thought to be fireflies, but not quite what I had seen before. They were much brighter and glowed continuously so that their tiny, insect bodies became invisible. I heard a song I knew, but the words were changed. I cannot recall them either, but I knew somehow that, if anyone else should see him, something would happen...

He spoke to me in a calm, gentle voice, though I don't know what he said. I stood closer to him and watched the strange fireflies; they casted a warm, golden glow about the clearing. It felt as though we were sitting in front of a fire inside a home, and that, at the same time, that the whole world was coldly sleeping--that only we were awake.

In the morning, I listened to the song repeatedly and sung it to myself, vainly trying to find an answer, a reason for the dream.

The Snow Queen

Drawing by me.

Going out into the wide world.