THE DANCING STAR - CHAPTER 2

 CHAPTER 2 of THE DANCING STAR

They spent a long time in conversation, telling each other tales from here and there, and also telling tales from there and here. Every now and then or every then and now Othello Meow tickled Adelade the Star, and the latter was even more encouraged to tell of adventures.

Adelade the Star suggested to both of them, to Othello Meow and Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn, as well as both Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn and Othello Meow, to come with her to the Land of Nevergothere Ifyousurelywon'treturn, which filled Roger's face with a wide green smile like those of bard frogs when they sing songs to their ladyloves in the lily ponds and their ladyloves reward them with an equally green and wide smile.

His great-great-grandfather had been there and never returned; no one knew either before or afterwards why he had gone forth, but every time his great-great-grandmother was reminded of that land, her gaze was turned towards the ocean and a little teardrop of absence streamed down her left cheek.

Not even the greatest maharajahs, with all their racing elephants and all their lucky crickets, did light-footedly and lunatically undertake a quest like this one. But they all had to wait until from the horizon there rose over the horizon a moon laced with cinnamon lace, and within orange-coloured flesh with bone-colored pips on the orange-coloured flesh. It is then that one can go to the Land of Nevergothere Ifyousurelywon'treturn. When the orange moon rises, you may expect anything to occur. And when it rose that night, Othello Meow and Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn hopped onto Adelade the Star and began their quest, only leaving on the house door this message.

"We will return soon, or maybe earlier, and when we return we shall return."

So they set course for the orange moon and went right through it, through a long passageway like a colourful tunnel, vermillion and chestnut brown, honey golden and purplish, as long as when you have tunnel vision, tunnel vision in many colours. At the end of the tunnel a beastie was expecting them, a beast none of the three friends had ever seen, and who had never seen any of the three friends either. He was a big one, but either he had got or he hadn't not a face like a good fellow, what they call a nice guy. Suddenly the beast became aware of their presence, and moving his head a little to the right and then moving his head a little to the left, he slowly opened his mouth and said:

"Welcome, I am the camel Kamal; hope you are pleased with your quest through these lands."

"Thank you very much indeed," all three friends responded.

Kamal Hunchcamel had them over for afternoon tea, and, moving his head once more a little to the left and then a little to the right, he told them they could go to the town of Rice-Con-Gee, the largest town in the Land of Nevergothere Ifyousurelywon'treturn. That evening there would be a redoubtable opera performed by the eight giraffe sisters, the Pokerface sisters; a great show expected and advertised since ages in every community in the environs. He gave them directions towards Rice-Con-Gee: the way was very easy; as soon as they arrived at the icy seas where the whale Emma Corsetdreams slept, they had to continue straight on and they would find the No Cry Shampoo River, that flowed past the town of Rice-Con-Gee.

Othello Meow, Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn, and Adelade the Star took their leave satisfied.

"We have our ears full of explanations and we are thankful. When we return we will continue to listen to you and our ears will receive your explanations."

"Goodbye," replied the camel Kamal moving his head now to the right, now to the left.

The town of Rice-Con-Gee rose on a little hill slope, a perfect place for the winds to be able to play in its environs. The winds saunter or run chasing one another, playing hide and seek, red light green light, and especially blind wind's bluff.

When, at the end of the day, the so forgetful and carefree winds have had as much fun as they please, they sing songs in the centre of town; springtimey wind songs in springtime, summery wind songs in summer, wintry wind songs in winter. In autumn they breathe out in little puffs and get lost around the corners of old townhouses.

At the door of most houses there were cloth-wringing contraptions. Long and short contraptions, short and stumpy contraptions, tall and slender contraptions, depending on the physique of the houses' inhabitants, whether short and chubby or tall and thin.

In the town of Rice-Con-Gee, on Main Street every afternoon and evening sat old Laura Chocolate-Wishes with her accordion, an accordion that, whenever it was in a good mood, told little tales instead of making the passers-by dance. The little tales it told were sometimes or every now and then as sad as when children have the sorrowful shadows of the valley in their eyes at night. But occasionally or every then and now, in the same fashion, those little tales were as cheerful as when children have upon their brows the bright light of the rising sun.

Adelade the Star, Othello Meow, and Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn approached her and asked her:

"What is this little box you have in your hands?"

"It is an accordion, it is as old as I am," quoth Laura Chocolate-Wishes, "but we love one another, we keep one another good company."

"What do you mean," asked Adelade the Star, "by keeping good company?"

"That we speak to one another when no one pays attention to us, we speak of the playing winds, or of the rain that refreshes our cheeks, or of some sleepy moon pretending that she is asleep."

And, upon finishing, the accordion because it was in a good mood:

"Once upon a time, and I mean a long long time ago," the accordion began, "long before the crocopuffs lost their wonderful spectacles, which let them see the same things we see but in black and white; long before the day-blue muslings had their velveteen tails honeyed by falling pots of sweet honey; long before the bell-ringers of the jungle whistled their last excruciating cries; long long time before the sorrowful events that occurred long long time before all that; it was then, some years before that, because crabs have not always walked sideways, a night between springtime and winter, here in Rice-Con-Gee, the Shoemaking Moon, as she is known ever since, sent a message to every shoe in town, who spread the word to all the footwear in the Land of Nevergothere Ifyousurelywon'treturn: 'Tonight all trainers, mary-janes, slippers, flip-flops, sandals, pumps, high heels, clogs, espadrilles, boots, and every other kind of shoe will go out for a stroll on our own, without any kind of feet inside us. Tonight, while those who put us on their feet during the day, on their long and sneaky and greyish or pale or maybe even purplish feet, are fast asleep in their beds, we shall all rise and go forth for a walk.' In the middle of the night, while everyone was asleep, everywhere did all shoes of every kind leave their bedrooms and storage furniture. They walked down the pavement of the streets, up and down staircases, walking up and walking down the promenades. Wellington boots splashed at their hearts' content in the puddles on the pavement. Everywhere, espadrilles and slippers and pumps and sandals nd trainers and flip-flops tiptoed and wore their heels out. Some of them walked with catlike tread, gently sneaking like some people do during the day. Others walked more clumsily, treading loudly with their heels. On that night the Shoemaker Moon came close to the Earth and invited all those shoes to go for a walk with her; therefore, if you ever see a child on a night with a new moon, looking at the new moon through parted fingers, watching that child from over their right shoulder, never over their left as everyone else does, it is because that child is looking at the Shoemaker Moon all full of heaps of espadrilles, sandals, high heels, slippers... all kinds of shoes long story short."

"And if the accordion tells sad stories," asked Othello Meow, "what do you do?"

"If the stories make me really sad," Laura Chocolate-Wishes replied, "I play the sleepy song of the long wind that enters up the slope drowsily. Then the tune carries me away to a place where I have time, lots of time, to dream."

And her eyes, little by little, began to close, until she fell asleep  with her accordion, just like every afternoon on Main Street.

Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn, Othello Meow, and Adelade the Star sauntered up Main Street until they reached Tickle-Laugh Square, where, at the local theatre, the eight giraffe sisters were about to perform. The four eldest were called Lettuce, Pettuce, Rettuce, and Dettuce; the four younger were Lattice, Pattice, Rattice, and Dattice. They came from a line of opera singers and actors with longstanding tradition, the Pokerface family. Both the elder giraffe sisters Lettuce, Pettuce, Rettuce, and Dettuce; and the younger giraffe sisters Lattice, Pattice, Rattice, and Dattice Pokerface, all eight giraffe sisters, were of splodged skin and had splodgy coats.

Yet when our friends reached the theatre by the front entrance, they found it closed and a sign saying: "No opera today, because the eight giraffe sisters of the Pokerface family have quarrelled."

The quarrel was concerning the hats and the jackets that they would have to don for the first time at the evening show. They could not agree on which kind of hat or jacket to wear, or on the way to put them on.

Lettuce, Pettuce, Rettuce, and Dettuce said: "The most convenient thing would be to wear both hat and jacket upright and straight." Lattice, Pattice, Rattice, and Dattice said: "The most alluring thing would be to wear both hat and jacket askew, cocked to the side." The argument lasted for hours and hours, and no solution was reached. Since nothing would be solved by letting the spat go on and on, someone, no one knows exactly who, had the brilliant idea of seeking out the Director of the Theatre.

The Director of the Theatre sent for the Director of Public Cleaning Services for Streets and Squares. The Director of Public Cleaning Services for Streets and Squares sent for the Head of Department of Regional Services for Vaccination Against the Common Cold of the Healthcare Prefecture. The Head of Department of Regional Services for Vaccination Against the Common Cold of the Healthcare Prefecture sent for the General Coordinator of Lighting Devices and Psychedelic Affinities; then the General Coordinator of Lighting Devices and Psychedelic Affinities phoned the Mayor, who, very seriously and with a quite sensible mien, said, speaking like a politician who has studied and practiced politics: "Seek out the Special Committee for Complicated Cases."

The Committee gathered in extraordinary assembly. They were an illustrious and distinguished committee, and, when they were all sitting down together, their mouths opened underneath their noses (as it happens to everyone in every illustrious committee), and they picked their ears and scratched their chins thoughtfully (as it happens to everyone in every distinguished committee). Any person who saw them would have said:

"This must be a quite illustrious and distinguished committee."

Their assembly continued.

Two of the giraffe sisters from the Pokerface family, Lettuce and Lattice, remained looking one another in the eyes and blinking, blinking and looking one another in the eyes, with their laughing little eyes. Suddenly, both of them raised their voices at unison:

"We shall wear our hats askew and our jackets straight."

And that was the end of the quarrel between the eight giraffe sisters and the much expected opera could begin without too much delay. Since giraffes are mute, the song they sang remains shut inside the head of each of the eight Pokerface sisters. The elder four, Lettuce, Pettuce, Rettuce, and Dettuce; and the four younger sisters, Lattice, Pattice, Rattice, and Dattice, only by looking very attentively into their little laughing eyes can the audience realise if they are singing out of key or not.

After the opera, all three friends walked towards the town's outskirts, where they found a great network of devices and contraptions, from which every now and then soap bubbles came out; large soap bubbles checkered with large checkers, small bubbles with small lilac stripes, large bubbles with large scarlet stripes.

As all three looked aghast at the contraption, there appeared a fellow with a strange mien, in turquoise uniform with a casque on his head; a police officer.

"Who are you? What are you doing here? Do I know you?"

All three friends were left even more astonished, they did not even know what to reply, nor how to leave this predicament.

"Keep calm! I am a respectful friend to all respectable people. That is why I carry this badge, to seize the people who are not respectable," said the police officer, touching the badge and all the medals he wore on his chest pompously. "But rest reassured, you have the face of respectable people."

"!!!!" (They had not left their surprised state yet.)

"This great contraption you see here," the officer continued, "is a patented soap bubble maker, invented by our most honourable Mayor of Rice-Con-Gee. He has also patented the clothes-wringers that all of our houses boast of. Now he is pondering about something else to take even more profit from the Shampoo River. You may get on the bubble that pleases you the most and hitch a ride on it."

"Are there no objections or problems on the Mayor's side?" asked Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn.

"No, of course not! This will flatter him a lot," said the officer beaming his greatest smile.

THE DANCING STAR - CHAPTER 1

 THE DANCING STAR

Josep Ballester...

Translated from the Catalan by Sandra Dermark.

CHAPTER ONE

No one who does not have chaos within them can give birth to a dancing star.

Friedrich Nietzsche.

Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn, as soon as he got up in bed, thought: "Today I'm going to the Main Square to see the brand new fountain they have put smack dab in the middle of the square, walk the streets, walk the promenade, walk the narrow old backstreets, to see what's going on in the village. Perhaps or surely I will become aware of something that happened last night while I slept. It's possible that the shopkeeper has burst into laughter and fallen into the water tank and gotten out with a cart full of goldfish, or a fishbowl full of hay, in her grasp. Who knows? Maybe the husband of the Moon, of the silver white Moon, was going down to the ground floor to find an olive-tree-greenish glove which their daughter had forgotten upon returning from playing and skipping rope to the tune of the song called 'Dance of the buzzer-buzzers at the bottom of the rabbit hole.' Or maybe Harry Frothystride had had a finger stuck to his nose from when he mocked the hairstyling lady-lizards when the latter curled the hair of Granny Chardface on the market place.

Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn broke his fast. Roger Rococo lives in a house where everything remains like it was ever before. The rooftop is on top, like ever before, above his bedroom, and his bedroom is beneath the rooftop, like ever before. From his bedroom window the view is always the same; the sun rises at dawn, and its rays eagerly stroke the tree-lined promenade before the school opposite his place. At night, on nights with a moon, the moon beams with a long and lustful kiss upon the crystal waters of Prussian blue of the blue river of Prussian crystal.

Things continue to be like ever before, anyway, and as deep and as soft as the eyes of Othello Meow when he looks at the deep horizon.

Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn went out into the garden to see what Othello Meow was doing; he found him behind the rose bush with coral roses, of an intense shade of coral. Othello Meow is his pet cat, with a coat as black as dark midnight dotted with some ashen-grey spots. The cat was scratching at the ground passionately, as if there were something there, digging quicker and quicker just like dogs do when they bury the khaki-coloured and red-polka-dotted bones of their dreams.

"I must help him," quoth Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn. And both cat and owner began to dig in the garden soil. Imagine their surprise when a little head popped up and spoke to them:

"Good morning to you two! I am Adelade the Star!"

"Whaaaa...???"

She was a tiny star, not very large; anyway astronomers who know, or say they know, with their distinguished and illustrious mien, told us that stars were very large, and this one was not oversized, indeed, Adelade was a tiny baby star.

With a smile as wide as an autumn breeze, and eyes as large and rounded and blue as a pair of blue dragonflies. So blue, such a transparent and crystal-clear shade of blue as cuckoo-bell flowers full of blue raindrops dancing upon silver leaves after a summer downpour.

And Adelade the Star asked them once more:

"Who are you two?"

"We... are Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn and Othello Meow," they both said, still surprised. "And what are you doing?"

"We stars are tied to golden strings ever since we are born to light up the whole sky; then, when we are a little bit older, we can let go and travel or fall down to Earth. Therefore, you may have sometimes seen from here a star, and find that it has disappeared the next day; it's because that star has left to explore the wide world."

Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn said that Lady Nell Bread-and-Honey, his grandmother, had told him another tale about the stars.

"Lady Nell Bread-and-Honey always told me that the stars are candied hazelnuts, which the witch Clara and the witch Claudia scatter wherever they fly."

I HAVE JUST BEEN PUBLISHED!!

 Though it's only a local bookshop and a local publishing company (in Castellón de la Plana, my hometown), I have just published two books of my own device!!

I had my western-zodiac poems Zodiaka and my translations of Snoilsky's Swedish Pictures into Spanish and English published around Shakespeare Day 2021. It was an ambition of mine that I have finally fulfilled after like five years of waiting... it feels rewarding, doesn't it?

besitos para el 2 de mayo (fête des mamans)

Besos maternales

(+18)
A mamá siempre le gustó besarme y a mí siempre me gustó que lo hiciera.

Siempre nos dábamos besitos tiernos en la punta de la nariz o los labios. Se sentía agradable y cálido, sus labios eran suaves y delicados. Me encantaban.

Nuestra relación era normal e inofensiva hasta que un día, ella notó una reacción distinta en mí y se sintió tentada para hacer algo más. Me aseguró que se sentiría muy bien si juntabamos nuestras lenguas.

Ella sacó su lengua y yo hice lo mismo, nos acercamos y rozamos las puntas una con otra. El contacto húmedo y extraño me pareció raro al principio, me causó algo de cosquillas también. Me preguntó que sentía y le expliqué, lo repetimos unas cuantas veces y le dije que sentía cosquillas en mi bajo vientre. Era excitación sin dudas.

Seguimos con los besos así, luego ella se entusiasmó y me besaba diferente, iniciabamos con besos de piquito, luego ella me pedía que abriera la boca. Primero mordisqueba despacio mi labio inferior y luego introducía su lengua en mi boca. Presionaba así sus labios contra los míos pero antes me indicaba cómo proceder. Entonces yo movía mi lengua y sentía la suya como enrollándose con la mía.

Los besos que nos dábamos ahora eran más intensos y menos inocentes, ella solía acariciar mis muslos cuando me besaba luego comenzó a meter sus manos bajo mi blusa, tocando mis pequeños senos. Sus dedos pasaban por mis pezones, los acariciaba y a veces los apretaba o los pellizcaba despacio. Cuando hacía eso, yo sentía más cosquillas pero ahora parecían ser más intensas entre mis piernas.

Ella entonces decidió ir mucho más allá. Siempre me decía todo lo que haría y yo asentía porque me gustaba. Pero esa vez me quitó la blusa y luego de besarme la boca, bajó un poco y lamió mis pezones, uno y después otro. Al ver que me gustaba, los succionó.

Un rato después, sus manos iban separando mis piernas y sus dedos tocando sobre mi short, moviéndose lentamente y presionando. Le informé que tenía como ganas de orinar pero no era eso, lo supo cuando removio un poco mi short y su mano ingresó a mi ropa interior. Sentí sus dedos en mi intimidad, la cual estaba muy mojada.

Ella indicó que me sacara entonces el resto de la ropa y yo obedecí. Cuando lo hizo, me dijo que me recostara en la cama con las piernas abiertas. Al seguir sus órdenes, ella se acercó a besarme, luego volvió a chupar mis pezones. Siguió besando cuesta abajo hasta que sentí su boca cerca de mi sexo. Me encantó la sensación, me sentía ansiosa y muy caliente.

Entonces quise más, mucho más. Yo misma elevé un tanto mi cadera para hacerle saber y ella con la punta de su lengua rozó un poquito mi clítoris; reí un poco y me removí extasiada ante tan increíble y excitante contacto.

"Hazlo otra vez, mami..."

Le pedí casi suplicando y enseguida su experta boca empezó a besar mi coñito de arriba hacia abajo, separó los labios mayores y su lengua recorrió los pliegues hasta deslizarse a mi vagina. La introdujo ahí y la movió, dejándola húmeda con su saliva, penetrando con la lengua una y otra vez, metiéndola y quitándola mientras sostenía mis caderas, que yo intentaba mecer en círculos.

Ella se detuvo a preguntarme si me estaba gustando lo que hacía. La verdad me fascinaba, se sentía rico y placentero; entonces continuó. Ahora daba profundos y apasionados besos de lengua a mi conchita que emanaba fluidos dulzones en gran cantidad.

"¡Mami! Creo que voy a hacerme pis, tengo que ir al baño ya..."

Advertí, pero no era eso. Era un inminente orgasmo, el primero que ella me provocaba comiéndome el coñito. En el momento que sus carnosos labios succionaron mi ya hinchado clítoris, me vine sin poder ya contenerme.

"Eres tan sabrosa, amor"

Dijo ella, tenía la boca brillante después de tanto chuparme la conchita. Volví a sentir su boca ahí mismo, su lengua en mi vagina extrayendo mis líquidos y tragandolos. Desde esa vez, mami lo hace a diario y a mí me gusta muchísimo. Ella dijo que pronto invitaría a mi tía con nosotras y que entre las dos me darían muchos besitos así.

Lisant un conte,

Jacques-Joseph Tissot

thaw my heart (and hope to die)

thaw my heart (and hope to die) - ie a femslash snow queen

When Gerda's best friend stops talking to her she is heartbroken. And when Kaisa is captured, Gerda knows she will walk to the end of the earth to get her back.

Or...

A retelling of the classic fairy tale, the Snow Queen, but with a genderbent (female) Kai, and also a genderbent prince and princess...

Also this is probably my current favourite fairy tale, i love it so much, its so detailed and whimsical. So yeah, it is a pretty self-indulgent fic.

I kept the relationship between Kai-sa and Gerda much how it is in the original, mainly a friendship but with an implication of romance.

 

 

Part 1 – The Magic Mirror

 

Once there was a magic mirror. An evil mirror. Everything good and true and beautiful reflected into it shrivelled away, while everything bad and untrue and ugly swelled up in its place. When it was newly made, some creatures got a hold of it. They delighted in it, for they were creatures of evil. After experimenting with the mirror, they came up with a cunning plan. They were going to fly it right up into the sky to reflect it on all of the world bellow.

 

Hearing this, the mirror became excited and began to cackle in delight. It’s laugh made it shake and shake, until the creatures could hold it no longer. It fell to earth and cracked into a million pieces.

 

Now, this was just the start of the trouble, for the smallest shards were smaller than even a grain of sand, and they got inside people’s eyes and made them view the whole world funny. The slightly larger shards were more dangerous still, for if they pierced one’s heart, it went cold, hard and unfeeling.

 

Part 2 – Kaisa and Gerda

 

A long time after this, there were two little girls that were next door neighbours and classmates. They lived in the most beautiful place, for they had the most wonderful little garden. Kaisa and Gerda had rooms in the attics of their houses and had windows that faced each other, so that if they wished they could clamber over into each other’s rooms. Both Kaisa and Gerda had attached a wooden box to their windows, and had planted in them a rose bush, which grew together in an arch.

 

They played outside all springtime and summer, but in winter they played inside each other’s houses, for it was cold, icy and snowing outside. During the winter months, Gerda’s Grandmother would sit them by the fire and tell them stories of the Snow Queen, with her storm of silver bees, who flies through the town and freezes the windows with patterns like flowers.

 

When the spring flowers were just beginning to bloom, Kaisa and Gerda were sitting outside, reading a story together.

“Ouch!” winced Kaisa.“My eye! My heart!” She clutched her hand to her heart and blinked ferociously. Gerda, concerned, put her arm around Kaisa’s neck.

“Are you all alright?”

“It must have gone.” Kaisa replied. But she was wrong. It hadn’t gone. Furthermore, it was a shard of that awful magic mirror which was now wedged firmly in her heart and her right eye.

 

“Ewww what are you doing?” Kaisa sneered. “And why do you wear your hair that like that. It looks ugly.”

 

From then on, Kaisa scorned and ignored Gerda. This broke poor Gerda’s heart, for she loved Kaisa deeply, and was convinced that the whole thing was her own fault.

 

Part 3 – The Snow Queen Appears

 

The next winter was so cold that the lake near the woods had frozen over, and the snow fell deep and clear. It was a child’s paradise. One afternoon, Kaisa took her sled and went to join the other children tobogganing. Gerda did not go too, as her own sled was broken, and she was sure Kaisa would not want her there.

 

Kaisa and the other children had great fun, and had begun playing a new game, were when an adult's troika came by, they would attach their sled to one of the runners and hitch a lift. The game was of great fun, but required risk and nerve. So naturally, when the grandest slay they had ever seen pulled up by the tobogganing hill, Kaisa was dared to tie her sled to it. Never one to back away from a dare, she sledged down the hill and quickly tied the sled to the troika.

 

It was a beautiful sleigh and it seemed almost to be made of ice. It had intricate snowflake patterns carved in, and sitting on top was a mysterious figure shrouded in white fur.

 

The lady in white turned round and smiled at Kaisa. She clicked the rains and the horses sped off. They rode over miles of snow. Every time Kaisa began to grasp at the rope to detach her sledge, the woman in white would turn around and smile at her. And so, they rode for many miles, the snowy scenery flashing by until the snow began to fall so fast that she could no longer see her hands in front of her face. She called at the top of her voice and pulled and tugged at the rope. But it was in vain, for no matter how loud she yelled, no one would ever hear her. No matter how hard she pulled and twisted, the rope would never be untied.

 

At last, they stopped and the woman stood from her seat.
“We have travelled far.” She said “but we have further yet to come. Why do you tremble like that?”

 

She held open her arms, and Kaisa stumbled gratefully into her cloak. The Snow Queen kissed her forehead, and Kaisa was no longer cold. Once more, the Snow Queen kissed Kaisa, and she lost all memories of Gerda, or her Grandmother or anyone she knew from home. And so little Kaisa followed the Snow Queen into her troika and fell asleep as they flew over the great arctic sea.

 

Part 4 – Gerda’s Journey

 

Little Gerda was very distressed when Kaisa did not return. All anyone could tell her was that Kaisa had attached her sled to a larger troika, and had not been seen since. Terrible rumours started that Kaisa had drowned in the thaw and that the river had taken her away. And so, Gerda went and talked to the river.
“Have you seen Kaisa ?” She asked. There was no reply.
“I’ll give you my new red shoes if you take me to Kaisa.” She bargained desperately. But the river still gave her no answer. She turned to the small fishing boat moored there. She thought that if she could get farther in, the river would hear her. However, the rope was rotten and old and it broke, sending the little boat, with poor Gerda in it downriver.

 

Gerda fought frantically for control trying desperately to steer and slow the little boat. Her efforts were in vain, but the thought came to her that maybe the river was directing her towards Kaisa.

 

Eventually, Gerda floated by a thatched cottage with the most amazing garden. The old woman inside spotted her and, using her cane, pulled the boat to the bank.
Gerda was tired and distressed, and kept asking the old woman if she had seen Kaisa. While Gerda explained her story, the old woman took her in and fed her.
“I once had a little daughter like you”. The old woman told Gerda as she tucked her in to bed, stroking her hair. The more the old lady stroked her hair, the less Gerda remembered about Kaisa and who she really was.
Once Gerda was asleep the old woman went into the garden. Fearing they would cause Gerda to remember Kaisa, she bewitched the rose bushes so that they shrunk deep into the ground. But she forgot about the flowers that decorated her hat; a rose was amongst them.

 

Gerda stayed at that little house for quite some time, and watched as the snowdrops and the daffodils and the crocuses flowered. The whole time she was playing in the garden she couldn’t help the feeling that there was something missing.

 

There came a day when the sun was particularly bright and glaring, and Gerda had complained about it shining in her eyes.
“You can borrow my hat dear.” The old woman offered. The hat was old, with a large brim decorated with dried flowers.

“Are the flowers from the garden?” Gerda asked

“Yes”

 

Gerda had noticed the preserved rose on the hat and it had stirred something deep in her memory. She placed the rose from the hat on the soil and up sprouted a whole bush of them. She cried, for she had remembered little Kaisa.

“Do you know where Kaisa is?” She asked the roses.

“We only know that she is not dead, as she was not with us below the ground, in the land of dead things.” The roses replied. Gerda asked the other flowers of the garden the same question, but none of them knew where Kaisa was.
A crow, who had overheard the conversation flapped down and said,

“I might have seen your Kaisa. But if I am correct, then she has forsaken you for a Prince.” The crow explained how he had seen a young woman go to the palace, where the crow’s wife worked, and how this girl had caught the attention of the Prince, and the two of them were now just married.

“Oh it’s Kaisa ” Gerda cried “I’m sure it is!”

Gerda was determined to the Palace to see Kaisa, and the crow was eventually persuaded to help sneak her in by the servant’s entrance. But when Gerda got to the castle, the Princess was not Kaisa.

 

The Prince and Princess were very shocked to be woken up in the middle of the night by a strange girl and a crow. However they soon took pity on Gerda, and decided to do all they could to help her out. They gave her a gold carriage for her to travel and look for Kaisa in and some new warm clothes.

 

The next morning Gerda set off, full of hope. They rode away from the Castle and through a thick, dark forest when the carriage began to rock and shake. They were being attacked by robbers!

 

The robbers stripped the carriage of all its gold, kidnapped the horses and killed the driver. If it was not for the little Robber Girl, Gerda would almost certainly have been killed too. However, the leader of the robbers, a rough ugly woman, had brought with her her daughter, and this little robber girl had taken quite a shine to Gerda.

 

And so poor, frightened Gerda was taken back to the robbers' little hut as a toy. The little Robber Girl was very curious about Gerda, and forced her to tell her whole story. The little girl was so touched by Gerda’s love for Kaisa and her determination that she promised to help her escape.

 

In their garden, the robbers kept a reindeer. The reindeer was able to tell Gerda that he had heard from the robber girl's wood pigeons that the Snow Queens sledge had been seen flying towards the North Pole with a small girl hostage in it.

“Reindeer.” the little Robber Girl demanded. “I will let you free, but only if you take this little girl to the North Pole to rescue her friend.” The Reindeer readily agreed and they were off.

Gerda and the Reindeer rode and rode, over forest and moor and marsh and snow. The day drew to a close and soon the sky began to flash green and pink.

“Those are my northern lights!” The Reindeer cheered. “We’re almost there.”

Gerda was very glad to hear it, and the beauty of the aurora detracted her from her aching and frozen toes. Slowly, shapes started to appear from the carpet of white snow. As they rode on, they got ever clearer. It was the Snow Queen’s Palace. It was made entirely of ice and was the tallest building Gerda had ever seen.

 

Part 5 – Reunion

 

Gerda wandered through the halls of ice until, at the heart of the palace she found a vast frozen lake. At the far end of the lake was a throne, made from a frozen waterfall. At its foot, was Kaisa.

“Kaisa!” Gerda cried out as she rushed towards her. But Kaisa didn’t know her. Gerda cried, and her tears dropped down onto Kaisa’s chest, thawing the ice within. As Kaisa remembered Gerda and her Grandmother and their little garden, she too began to cry, washing out the splinter of ice in her eye.

Gerda kissed Kaisa’s cheeks and brought the bloom back to them. She kissed Kaisa’s eyes so that they shone like her own. She kissed Kaisa’s hands and feet, so she may use them to escape.

And so, Gerda and Kaisa rode home together, across the land of snow and into there own. When they got home, little buds were peaking up through the grass. They bade farewell to the reindeer and walked through their beloved village. Everything was quite the same. Except for them, for they notice that they had grown up, and although they still felt children at heart, they were now adults.

HAPPY EASTER 2021!!

 And, as usual, here are our Swedish vintage Easter Cards!!

 

LES MIS+OTHELLO=BETWEEN THE VELVET LIES (More updates)

 On the day Éponine Thénardier lost her maidenhead, it was not with the one she actually loved.

"Popped your cherry like bubblewrap, and you're still pining for...? What does this guy have that I fricking don't? Anyway, I'll hide your little bloody secret, washing these sheets as clean as a whistle, and I swear by what I love the most (here, he clutches the package between his thighs) that you'll have your man, if I can never be the kind you like to... Should I ever leave a friend in need without even advice? Right, 'Ponine? I swear by my cock and balls that you'll get things your way!"

Her breathing steadies as he clasps her once more. As the blood on the sheets begins to dry. Like a stray cat, she rubs her face against his chest, desperate for affection.
"Fudge," he swallows an F-bob-omb, unwrapping himself from her waist. "Whatsapp her guardian, 'Ponine. Right now. Shock the old codger."
Rising up and producing her phone, she scrolls down to LEBLANC on her list of contacts, while thinking of how to put it into words...
After a while, she types NORWEGIAN WOOD, then the enter key, hoping this gentleman will understand the Beatles reference. A response appears from Leblanc: "Could you please relate what do you mean by that?" Even though the old blighter erased the Thénardiers from the list of contacts, he does not know her number now that she has a phone of her own.
Éponine is quick to come up with a riposte: "AND WHEN I AWOKE I WAS ALONE; THIS BIRD HAS..." Now he will get the cue.
What did you type? 'Parnasse asks her, elbowing her in the false ribs right under the sports bra; in response, the Thénardier firstborn whistles the tune to Norwegian Wood as she winks an eye. He just stares at her, puzzled. "Beatles. A song about a bird, you know, a girl, whom a guy finds out has disappeared from their home in the night. Just like the old snowy owl will find his li'l skylark tonight..."

So this is a bunny for an Othello fushion I have only with my Mizzie babies - a postmodern Mariusette-Montponine AU (plus Valvert, plus Courfsette friendly! -maybe some Enjoltaire in the wings?-) including a Cyrano de Courfeyrac scenario and so forth... 

This is from the aforementioned Othello Les Mis fusion - starts out as a Cyrano de Courfeyrac story, but then takes a darker turn with Marius being duped into hating Cosette ... Courf' as Cassio, 'Parnasse as Iago, Éponine doubling as Emilia and Roderigo, Enj as the visiting dignitary... and some Valvert as Cosette's two dads spring to reaction in the first act. All done in a style mashing up Wes Anderson and Quentin Tarantino with 1990s Basque films like Airbag, Acción Mutante, or The Day of the Beast (for instance, a water-and-vodka Russian roulette of shots, the vodka shots laced with crystal meth, appears as a plot point). Norwegian Wood acts as a leitmotif throughout the story, as does the poem "The Second Coming" which Marius is analysing for Verse Translation class :* Titles of chapters will come from both the song and the poem - and other lyrics:

THE GREAT PRETENDER
****
RAPUNZEL, RAPUNZEL...
THE STAR OF THE MASQUERADE
SOME LIGHT CAN NEVER BE SEEN
LIKE THE EYES OF A CAT IN THE BLACK AND BLUE
ISN'T IT GOOD, NORWEGIAN WOOD?
NOT THE SAME WITHOUT A GUN
HIDE IN THE SUN TILL YOU SEE THE LIGHT
WHAT'S BECOMING OF ME?
THE BLOOD-DIMMED TIDE IS LOOSED
THE CEREMONY OF INNOCENCE IS DROWNED
THE BEST LACK ALL CONVICTION
FULL OF PASSIONATE INTENSITY
A TRUTH AS HARD AS STEEL
OUT OF SPIRITUS MUNDI
OR SHOULD I SAY SHE ONCE HAD ME?

PS. The film Courfeyrac takes Marius and Cosette to see/gets tickets for them is based on Episode 15 of Vampire Princess Miyu "Dreams of a Mermaid" - its in-universe title is What Do Mermaids Dream Of?

Last year in April, exactly one year from now, I wrote:

For my Les Mis/Othello fusion, I am finding out in which ways a person can absorb meth into their system (it's plot relevant ;))

I FOUND OUT: The "ice" is soluble and then (to affect an individual person) can be either drunk or injected - I am in favour of the former, because otherwise Courf may feel the pinprick into the vein (ditto for a shove up the khyber, for the rectal route guarantees 100% absorption; hehe)... a poisoned drink is more classic and hurts little to nothing, plus meth is very gradually metabolised, so the symptoms would last for at most half a day!

(After typing this, I decided for Courfeyrac swallowing the meth in a spiked drink during the roulette game - of course the roulette is rigged!)