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sunthroughdarkclouds · 26 days

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The wood darkened; the winds poured from every direction, not wintry yet, still carrying scents of ripe apple, blackberry, warm earth. But they sang of storm and bare branches and cold, shrivelled days. They were the harvest winds; they came to carry away the dying, sweep the earth for the dead. I had never heard them so clearly before; they seemed to have their separate voices, each wind its separate shape. I huddled in the leaves beside the well, watching the world darken, the moon rise slowly above the trees, leaves flying like flocks of birds across it.

Patricia McKillip, Winter Rose (A Winter Rose Novel) (p. 35). Penguin Publishing Group.

#patricia a mckillip #patricia mckillip #wind #nature #spirits #alone #introspection #introversion

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sunthroughdarkclouds · 30 days

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I was running from my own thoughts as much as anything. I simply wanted to untangle myself from the web I had touched. A single, sticky, quivering strand of it was all I needed to warn me away. I did not want to think about people. I wanted the trees, the scents and colors, the shifting shadows of the wood, which spoke a language I understood. I wished I could simply disappear in it, live like a bird or a fox through the winter, and leave the things I had glimpsed to resolve themselves without me.

Patricia McKillip, Winter Rose (A Winter Rose Novel) (p. 34).

#patricia mckillip #patricia a mckillip #winter rose #nature #faerie #introversion #introspection

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sunthroughdarkclouds · 1 month

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Robert Duxbury (Australian, b. UK, based Thornbury, Melbourne, Victoria, Australia) - Fragmented Reflection, Paintings: Watercolor on Watercolor Paper mounted on Panel

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sunthroughdarkclouds · 2 months

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sunthroughdarkclouds · 3 months

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Alien (1979) Directed by Ridley Scott

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sunthroughdarkclouds · 4 months

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You can weave your life so long--only so long, and then a thing in the world out of your control will tug at one vital thread and leave you patternless and subdued.

- Patricia McKillip

#patricia k mckillip #quote #book quotes #life #control #patricia mckillip #forgotten beasts of eld #wisdom #fantasy #mythopoetic

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sunthroughdarkclouds · 4 months

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Sylvia (2003)

#sylvia plath #gwenyth paltrow #poet #cigarette #smoking #confessional #empty #emptiness #hollow #negative #person #personhood

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sunthroughdarkclouds · 4 months

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My therapist just told me my problem is that I need to write more fanfiction.

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sunthroughdarkclouds · 4 months

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A friend brought it to my attention late last night that fantasy author Patricia McKillip passed away on May 6th, and though there is an obituary in Locus, the news sadly seems to have been overlooked by other on-line fantasy outlets.

She was one of my favourite writers, having penned well over twenty novels across the course of her career and being the recipient of several awards, including the World Fantasy life achievement award in 2008.

She’s perhaps most famous for her Riddlemaster of Hed trilogy, though for my money her best work was written between 1995 and 2010, decades in which she wrote the likes of Winter Rose, The Book of Atrix Wolfe, Song for the Basilisk, The Tower at Stony Wood, Ombria in Shadow, In The Forests of Serre, Alphabet of Thorn, Od Magic, The Bell at Sealey Head and The Bards of Bone Plain – all standalone fantasy novels that melded her distinctive poetic-prose with stories based on fairy tales, mythology, ballads and other fantasy inspirations.

As a younger reader, there was seriously nothing else like them. The cover art featured above was done by Kinuko Y. Craft, and they’re a perfect visual compliment to McKillip’s dense, ornate prose. Oftentimes reading her books was like trying to unravel a tangled knot – but a lot more fun. No matter how complicated things got, you knew you would eventually land on solid ground.

“Night is not something to endure until dawn. It is an element, like wind or fire. Darkness is its own kingdom; it moves to its own laws, and many living things dwell in it.”

― Patricia A. McKillip, Harpist in the Wind

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sunthroughdarkclouds · 4 months

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A Midsummer Night’s Dream William Shakespeare

Illustration by Arthur Rackham [1914]

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sunthroughdarkclouds · 4 months

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Morning melancholy

Sometimes when I wake up in the morning There will be a certain stillness in the air A quiet stillness A nice stillness But no matter how bright the morning sun Or how sweetly the birds sing I find on mornings like these I am predisposed to feeling a sort of deep melancholy

It’s a strange, empty, quiet sadness Where no matter what the day holds I can’t help but feel an ache in my chest

Because the morning stillness always causes my mind to wander I think about all the things I had, what I want But I think the most heartbreaking thing I think about What causes me so much pain Is thinking about the things I can’t ever have

No matter how much I work or how much I change Some things are never meant to be I’ve realized this truth long ago And normally don’t think twice about it

But on still mornings Where everything else in the world seems to be in perfect harmony Is when I can’t hold these feelings back any longer And they rush forward eager to remind me That no matter how I try to live my life The same doubts, regrets, dashed hopes and dreams Will always find a way To still haunt me

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sunthroughdarkclouds · 4 months

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