Monday, 16 August 2021
Sunday, 15 August 2021
"The Leviathan" by Rosie Andrews
The Leviathan
by Rosie Andrews
She is awake. And I must remind myself of how it began. The end of all things. It was a time of witches, it was a time of saints, a time when rabbits hunted foxes, when children came into the world without their heards, and kings lost theirs on the scaffold. The world was turned upside down, or so some said… now, less than a hundred years after men and magic began to drift apart, we walk a new earth. We have become reasonable, and cleave to our certainties as once we cleaved to our kings. Now, the buried stories are dismissed as old wives’ tales, exaggerations, falsehoods. But still they bubble through the cracks, clinging on, refusing to go down into the dark. They develop strange qualities, words stored for too long. In the dim light of my small study, never bright enough now, I lay them down in honest black ink, but they are past their bloom…
