by Terri Windling Illustration by Gustaf Tenggren Whether mother or stepmother, the murderous queen remains one of the most vivid villains in folkloric history. She orders the death of an innocent girl, demands her heart (or liver, or tongue), then boils, salts, and eats the tender organ with a gourmand’s pleasure. "The term ‘narcissism’ seems […]
"I’m often called a ‘fantasy’ painter," Brian notes, "but my imagery springs from myth, folklore and the old oral story–telling tradition, not from the modern fantasy genre — although I’m grateful for the support that fantasy readershave given me over the years. I have to confess that, unlike Wendy, I rarely read fiction at all. […]
by Colleen Mondor McCaughrean knows though that this Oates is her twist on the myth and through her research for the book came to a very different conclusion about the man himself. ". . .thegenuine article would not have been at all easy to get along with. A serious sociopath. He was either fooling about like an […]
by Jeanie Tomanek The tinge of the red tail, oddly clear from so far below. Only a glimpse, yet it is her spirit guardian, gliding, closing circle upon circle. She was once a raptor too, awl–eyed breast fiercely full and certain of the prey. Now hunter’s hood masks, jesses bind, she perches, hobbled, blind, love […]
by Ellen Steiber That evening Nonie shows up at my house, carrying a cardboard box she can barely lift. I see her struggling with it as she comes up the walk. She has to set it down to ring the doorbell. By this time, I’m downstairs, opening the door. "What is that?" "I told you," […]
by Howard Gayton Tuesday, 15th November Day two: This morning I smudged with sage the second space that we are using to rehearse. We started with ‘Zazen’ meditation, kneeling in a circle and concentrating on our breath. The meditation is a simple pointer to how we can change the energy of a space with our […]
by Kevin Brockmeier I was leaning forward on my stone, eating a boiled egg one of the farmers had given me for his passage, on the morning the monk arrived. I watched him hobble around the end of the stables and follow the path toward the river. His robe was coated so thickly with dust […]