Her Stories...
There is a perplexingly apt authoress out there on Blogger and she happens to be my fiance and this post merely serves to pinpoint all of you to her blog where she publishes her short tales written over the course of years on numerous blogs and forums. She published also poetry in heathen publications. She has a coy but determined nature, and a kind and observant eye for the humble little forgotten children of this earth, in human and animal, or supernatural form.
http://highlandtales.blogspot.com/
In her stories one recognizes something of a quiet heroism, the bare flesh exposed to the world's blight but enduring it nonetheless without remorse nor tainted by the temptation of cowardice,though always bandaged in a veil of melancholy and sadness,while characters and plot glint as a hazy sun in the crisp cool air
when time is still in doubt to transcend from Winter to Spring...
The denouement never fully tumbles into a dark abysmal pit in which the victim is helplessly digested by subterrenean juices and the slithering residents of the underground. Dignity never falters of its summit,there is steadiness in the harrying ordonnances of man and nature, acceptance with a twist.
The cool yet passionate distance in style and atmosphere, the remarkable characters, their mythical aura and abruptness wherein they are snatched from the world yet remain etched in our imagination are remindful of the short stories by Orcadian bard George Mackay Brown, even in terms of storylines and themes, they are quite strongly congruous.
Thus in these tales,tender wonder sits on the throne, a smile resists the jaded cliffs that cuts through the veins and marrows of the best and the humble among creatures, hope cavort with the promise of freedom and finally, compassion pours into fate like chrystal mountain water gushing in falls over the worn but sturdy stones before it reaches a coy brook in the shadow of all things green.
http://highlandtales.blogspot.com/
In her stories one recognizes something of a quiet heroism, the bare flesh exposed to the world's blight but enduring it nonetheless without remorse nor tainted by the temptation of cowardice,though always bandaged in a veil of melancholy and sadness,while characters and plot glint as a hazy sun in the crisp cool air
when time is still in doubt to transcend from Winter to Spring...
The denouement never fully tumbles into a dark abysmal pit in which the victim is helplessly digested by subterrenean juices and the slithering residents of the underground. Dignity never falters of its summit,there is steadiness in the harrying ordonnances of man and nature, acceptance with a twist.
The cool yet passionate distance in style and atmosphere, the remarkable characters, their mythical aura and abruptness wherein they are snatched from the world yet remain etched in our imagination are remindful of the short stories by Orcadian bard George Mackay Brown, even in terms of storylines and themes, they are quite strongly congruous.
Thus in these tales,tender wonder sits on the throne, a smile resists the jaded cliffs that cuts through the veins and marrows of the best and the humble among creatures, hope cavort with the promise of freedom and finally, compassion pours into fate like chrystal mountain water gushing in falls over the worn but sturdy stones before it reaches a coy brook in the shadow of all things green.
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