Coquette!

Ianthe Rosingbird · Swan Song

20/06/24 - Dustbound

A beam of beauty fell upon your cheek.
You were made lustrous.
Beads of cells sewn with blood
make the hills of your face.

Who crafted your architecture?

Dust-bound boy upon my bed.
It makes me cry to know
that even now beside me you are leaving.
Only fine necromancy keeps you awake.

Who crafted your architecture?

Someone cruel who knew
they'd make a widow before your death.

18/11/22 - Adonis

His liver was golden.
Bright purgation!
His love flowed out in droplets;
Starry first
then dim as they fell out of sight
and further from his scarlet mouth.

There is no permanence in him.
He loves me not.

When you take that organ
the white thing in his chest
and twist it open,
Pomegranate seeds spill forth.
A sweet flavour
that evaporates in the heat of summer.

How could it endure?
He loves me not.

Wrapped in his beauty;
his veil of springtime
I see a different world.
Head upon his chest
I hear a nightingale sing sweetly
each note rolled out neatly.

Yet, The wild wind in my head
drowns beauty.
He loves me not!
He loves me not.

18/01/23 - Evergreen

Remember when the dew settled upon our thighs
and we became the hills we lay upon.
A monarch perched within your wisps of hair,
an ant swum in the puddle of my iris,

And beetles made a home within the arches of my nose.
Could they tell the storm had stopped?
Your mouth became a nest to many things
once where words were sonorous

some spider knitted veils to raise her kids
over your little, pink bell.
We are evergreen!
Watch the fabrics of a mold or moss
make us vivid again.

We have been raptured!
Raised from the dead.

14/02/22 - Say You’ll Love Me?

Say you'll love me in the spring
If I'm river, rain or rush.
When I'm tender like a stream,
when my skin is soft to touch.
When I ripple in your hands
in my luminescent strands
Say you'll love me in the spring.
Say you will. Say you will.

Say you'll love me even more
when I'm bright with summer rays.
When the sun is in my eyes,
when there’re fruits between my thighs.
And the world is glazed in gold.
In those hazy, lazy, days
say you'll love me even then.
Even then. Even then.

Say you'll love me in the fall
when my leaves are all but gone
and my golds have gone to gray
and my fruits have rot away.
When the scorch has left me bare
and all my branches hang despair.
Even little? Even small?
Will you love me evermore?

And when all I have is tears?
When I’m dry from love I spilled
and my hills are wrapped in snow
and my forest freezes still
will you love me? Say you will.
In my cold spell! In my chill!
Say you will. Say you will.
Will you love me even still?

IN THE GARDEN

Short Story

March 22nd 2024

A daisy pressed against her breast, the dust of dandelions bright like stars across her skin, a robin tapping at the seed around her knee. Bare in the garden she waits for the glow of moonlight. Soon the wild star will flicker out and in its place some soft air from the sea will cool the gentle fires of the afternoon. She's only felt sunshine a few eons and knows now she prefers her sister. And yet, she loves to watch the sun melt into the atmosphere, how pink then orange then purple break through the shell of the sky.

Lo!

A hiss in the grass.

Something sings its way towards the woman in the garden. She rises from her resting place, a hand pressed sweetly into the soil, her hair distorted, full of flowers: Heathers, daisies, vetch, datura,

Hyacinths and lilies held between her coils. “Hello?” She whispers to the dark. The thing within the grass stays silent. The copper rattle on its tail stirs the webs of little spiders, each string disbanded as it approaches the woman. “Hello?” She says again. Its amber head draws from the ground, its barbed lips part, its throat gives way to something golden.

Lo!

The curls spill out from between the serpent's teeth. A chin, a lip the color of dust, A second lip like blood. A nose rolls out, two eyes and then a forehead and all the finely threaded hair upon the serpent's crown.

“Hello. What will you have of me today?” The head croons.

She smiles. She crawls towards the thing, her nose mere inches from its head. “Something soft and cruel at the same time.”

“Soft and cruel?”

“So cruel that it might hurt but so soft I can delight in its endeavor to do so.”

“Soft and cruel.” The tail of the thing rattles. It beats against the air as though to conquer it. Then from the tip of the serpent thing a lump begins to grow. It wriths against the scaly walls, wild and wily as it grows. Then quickly it begins to move. Like bile crawling up your throat it tunnels through the serpent's body till it meets the wall. The golden headed creature parts its teeth. Some red thing falls out; a velvet line of saliva follows it. The woman brings a cautious finger to the body. It looks like some sort of newt; black eyes, full red like a warning, tiny barbs across its slimy body.

“What is it?”

“A joke.”

“A joke?”

“An insult more like: with all its thorns and teeth pulled out, now it cannot hurt you. It can only press against your ego in hopes that it may draw blood, but it never will.”

The red thing snaps its gums into the woman's skin, its dull tongue licking the soil from under her fingertips. “What do I do with it?”

“Hold it to your ear.”

She looks down at the red thing, raises an eyebrow, then draws it from the ground upon her palm. She looks up at the serpent. “Now what?” but before he can answer she feels the dull nails of the red thing snagging against her lobe, its head slips into the cave of her ear then all at once the thing is gone. “What did you do to me?” Her fingers tap against the ear the thing just vanished into. She scratches at the hollow as she feels an echo in her head, then suddenly she freezes. Her hand falls to her side. She looks up at the serpent, then smiles.

“You're rude! You’re so rude!” she falls into the grass and laughs.

“You liked it? You liked my joke?”

“I did! It's such a wonderful thing! I’ve never laughed like this before. Most times when I laugh it’s because of something unintentional. But you planned it, didn't you?”

“I planned for many hours too. I always plan these things. But no one's enjoyed them like you have. Especially not Him.”

The creases on her forehead wrinkle, she pulls herself up from the grass. “Why didn't he like the Jokes?”

“He didn't like how I used them.”

“How did you use them?”

“Too often. He thought they were disruptive.”

“Well I like them. How many of those do you have any how?”

“Several.”

“Then another!” She bounces towards the serpent thing hands clasped together. “At least one more?”

“Alright.” Another bump. It travels through the serpent's spine and knocks against the back of its teeth. Another red thing wriggles out but before it even moves it’s ripped from the ground and gathered up towards the woman’s head. Like before the creature vanishes into the ear and the woman shivers, smiling ever brightly. Then like the heavy thud of spoiled mango smashed against the ground her smile falls. Her eyes grow dark as she falls back into the shadows of the tree. “No. I didn't like that one.”

TO BE CONTINUED...

Ianthe Rosingbird · CHANGING SKIES 3

Ianthe Rosingbird · Lemonade

Ianthe Rosingbird · Singing Stars

THE MOUTHS

Short Story

July 5th 2022

"Icarus, Jocasta, Isla, Leto, Taran and Odessa."

I keep the names held tightly between my teeth as I descend into the mouth of the cave repeating them over and over.

I will not succumb to the will of the Mouth. I will not be consumed. I will not be swallowed like all the others.

I will find Odessa.

The ground grumbles as I recite the names as though mocking my conviction.

"Just wait and see," I say as I slide down the slope of its tongue, down its rocky throat, and sink towards the belly of the beast, the light of day consumed by darkness.

A lump forms in my own throat.

I don't know what to expect down there. Images of my mangled body scattered across the rocky scape blur my vision as I watch the flies circle my corpse.

That could be me. Cold and still as my exposed organs rot in view of the world. A wild, carnivorous beast violently tearing the skin off my bones like I'd tear the skin off an orange, grinning with manic satisfaction.

I swallow the lump.

But I cannot live in a world without Odessa. Or perhaps, I cannot live in a world without knowing what became of her. The lump slides down into the pit of my stomach and as though receiving a message I feel it grumble back. I should have eaten before coming down here but I do have something to satisfy these urges. I dig my hand into my satchel and rummage through it expecting to feel the firm flesh of an apple but instead, my fingers dig into the moist corpse of what was once a ripe fruit.

"Yuck!"

My vision must be terrible if I can't tell a ripe apple from a rotten one. I sigh as I smear its guts upon the wall. I guess I'll remain hungry. But as though my unsaid prayer for food was heard the air grew dense with sweetness. A smell so foreign to me that I could not taste the flavour in my mind but I was certain it was sweet. I suddenly feel a droplet of something drip against my nose and slide towards my hungry lips. This must be the source of the smell. My fingers instinctively press against my nose soaking up the syrup. I draw it to my eyes and watch it shimmer on my fingertip; red and small like a pomegranate seed.

"What is this?"

My tongue pushes past my teeth and I take a cautious lick of the substance before it retracts back to the cave of my mouth examining its flavours. How sweet. Sort of like...honey?

But much sweeter than that. More dense and flavourful than any honey I've ever tasted. A taste that sweetened the spirit as well as the tongue; unknown yet nostalgic. I stare up to find the source of this syrup but all I see is the rocky teeth of the cave, salivating as I draw myself deeper into its depths.

I should go back.

I feel my stomach curdle as the light of day is no longer visible and I stand alone in the darkness. My senses tug at my clothes like a frightened child eager to escape whining:

"We've travelled far enough! I want to go home now! I want to go home!"

But I silence them. I'm not a child anymore. Whatever exists down here can be faced or escaped. I just need to be cautious, that's all. I just need-

All at once, I hear the thudding of a thousand feet and I shudder. It's soon followed by the chorus of hundreds of voices laughing and harmonising in my mother tongue singing praises to the Gods. Voices that were all too familiar.

Could they be-

I run forward as the sounds grow closer and the ground grumbles louder and louder like a hungry stomach until I stand before two red doors. This must be it. I take a deep breath as I breathe in all the courage I can and press my fingers against the handles of the door and with one swift motion. I push them to the sides allowing the cave to brighten with the orange hues of candlelight. The warmth of the laughter greets me as I feel my anxieties partly subside.

I recognise these faces! Some of them. But there's no mistaking the brown-skinned faces of my brothers and sisters laughing and dancing in the ruins of a hallway as melodies burst from the walls. These were my people.

But what are they doing here?

Why haven't they returned to the village?

TO BE CONTINUED...

SAINT OF GOMMORAH

Excerpt: Chapter I - Descent

January 9th 2022

There was no God that day. When the sky went bloody and leaked carnage onto the world. All the wrath of sin that lay within its bowels; splattered across the city eating away at towers, melting the golden idols of the people's so-called Gods.

The Black Star bursted, birthing millions of shards that split the bodies of the wailing masses. Those who were not struck by the shards fell prey to the fragile walls and pillars that ruptured and collided into them. And if there were still souls after, the big body of the black star; her sharp edges like thorns and her mane of bright fury, set their bodies ablaze.

Agony reigned for those few days as the people fled to the valleys where they thought they would find safety but sank below the molten pits that waited for them. She watched as the Earth devoured them, gnashing them between her scarlet teeth and soaking them in hot saliva. She saw mothers cling to their children, begging for the innocent to be spared. Bleating out with ragged breath like a flock of sheep before a culling. But no one was innocent. Not the lamb of the valley or the soldier of the field. The black star hollered out as sulfuric smog choked those unfortunate enough to still be breathing: Burning their eyes red and hollow as the smog took what was left of them.

And when she looked down at Gomorrah; satiety curbed, she saw that what was done was good

and the black star rested in the breast of the city; heaving a final time before her embers went grey and faded into the atmosphere.

...

The days that followed brought with them silence. A stale wind that wandered through the leftovers of the city. Clouds erupted with lightning as a storm passed the ruins, raining soot upon the fields. The Earth simmered with volcanic violence as wafts of smoke ascended into the ether carrying the smell of death on their bodies. The vast expanse of sand crowded the remains, sinking into the pit that once was Gomorrah and carrying with them trinkets of its people; as well as their bones and rot. It was like a mouth had opened up and consumed the city and all that surrounded it drawing it deeper into Sheol. If anyone bore witness to this catastrophe they might have fallen before the sand and wept for forgiveness. Though it would be in vain.

A great fog covered up the pit and the black star fell into primordial sleep,

And like John foreseeing armageddon, only he bore witness.

…

No sound was made for days on end. No insect sang, chirped or screeched. No bird soared over the valley. No dust-cover serpent whistled its way across the desert floor. It was as though the news of Gomorrah spread upon the wind warning all around to flee. The desert creatures remained hidden too, Some buried in the sandy networks that connected all around the world while others trailed off; travelling forward towards Canaan. For all the weeks, months and years that passed the ground remained untrodden and the sand held no footprints of any kind. It only carried with it stillness.

That was until
he arrived.

He travelled alone. A pale shawl obscuring his face. Robes that dragged with them the sands of foreign lands as he ventured towards the pit. He had nothing to his name but the vague recollection of his childhood, the hymns and legends his mother passed down through her veins and the priceless trinkets that rattled in his pockets. The nothings he carried.

He had yet to see the black star.

Nor had he seen it illuminate the night.

He was a virgin to it.

A breeze suddenly caught his robes dragging him forward towards the pit as he tried to ground himself. But it was no use. She tossed his body forward like a tumbleweed casting him towards the lips of Gomorrah before releasing him. He brushed the sand from his body and stood up, his feet mere inches away from the voracious black mouth, still gauzy with fog. The tops of towers stretched out of the pit like teeth with their dark windows where nothing seemed to live. But that was all that could be seen of Gomorrah from where he stood.

So he descended.

Scouring the hole until he saw a collection of rocks shaped vaguely like a staircase and then he took his first steps into the ruins of the city. The sunshine barely seeped through the grey clouds stirring within Gomorrah's bowels. But nonetheless, he drew himself deeper into her pit feeling the sand crumble beneath his feet.

Yet he descended.

Despite every bone, every charred limb, every disembodied head wailing out at him to flee upwards towards the sunshine; he journeyed forward. A morbid curiosity tugging him deeper into the labyrinth where the Black Star slept. All the world cried out to him in warning But he descended.

The hood he wore unravelled on the breeze revealing dark hair and ever darker eyes as the void greeted him; certain that he would not rise from it. It only took one step before the stone beneath his feet bursted like glass and he sank into the Gomorrah, hand stretched out as he grasped the rocky walls breaking his fall. His legs dangled as he glanced down into the blackness. A solitary ledge waited for him so he let go of the wall and fell to it. His forehead was shiny with sweat as he once more continued

his Descent,

And Gommorah welcomed this.