The Night Horses

I have already put a post on about the inspiration for this story and it comes from The Smuggler’s Song by Rudyard Kipling. 

I think that this is a great poem, full of vivid images for a child’s imagination!  In fact for anyone’s imagination!  My story will be about the little girl who hears the Gentlemen go riding by – here is a bit of the opening for you!  And of course the poem itself. 

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THE NIGHT HORSES

The thundering sound of horses careering through the dark night woke me up last night and I itched to open the curtains and peek out.  My father’s stern warning paused my hand from pulling them back.  “I’ll beat you black and blue if I hear of you telling about horses in the night.”  Not an idle threat with my father.  My mother just pleaded ignorance.  “What the eye don’t see…” was one of her favourite expressions.  My curiosity was going to get me into serious trouble one of these days, or so I kept being told.  How was I supposed to resist?  I tucked my hands under my body and lay  on them to prevent myself from reaching for the curtain. I made a funny fish shaped lump under my sheets with my hips sticking up in the air, as I stared at the dark ceiling. Continue reading

The Virgin and the Dragon

This is an idea I’ve been playing with. The dragon is a man who had been turned into a lizard, and is clever enough to make a living while he is a lizard. He uses smoke and shadows to appear bigger than he is and he successfully scares the villagers so they don’t bother him. The girl is not afraid of confrontation with a dragon and doesn’t fall for his tricks. The lizard needs someone’s help to exact revenge on the warlock who turned him into a lizard.

Life couldn’t get much worse.  She was staked out in front of the dragon’s lair waiting to be burned to a crisp.  She sighed and puffed her hair out of her eyes.  The sun was rising over the mouth of the cave.  If the blooming dragon didn’t turn up soon she’d be roasted alive by a different fire source.  Her hair was red and her skin was white, rapidly turning pink.  Getting a tan wasn’t part of her life.  She squinted up at the hessian rope tying her to the stake.  Maybe the sun would burn through the rope and she would be free?  She puffed again, this time in exasperation.   What had she done to get to this point in life?

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