As it's National Poetry Day, I thought I'd share a few thoughts on Byron. The celebrity cult of Lord Byron began while he was still alive, boomed when he died, and still continues today. He remains an object of fascination, scandal, and appeal. I've been interested in him since I first read about him in a "Famous People" encyclopaedia. It was a children's book, so it did not explore the more infamous aspects of his life. But it was enough to inspire me to delve further into research on the man and the myth - including the puzzle of the mirror . Ultimately, Byron went on to become a major inspiration for my first published book Day's Dying Glory , right down to its title. His early poems (generally my favourite ones) feature heavily in the book, and I enjoyed weaving in lines and references which Byron-fans would spot where others might not even notice them. Poets and poetry have inspired hundreds of writers. It is fascinating that language can be so power...
For today's #HistFicThursdays blog, I'm delighted to be sharing this flash fiction piece from Judith. Set in the realm of magical realism, this is a story of Ancient Greece...
The Mermaid of the Aegean
Thessalonike’s sigh as she awakens becomes the wind upon the waves, spiralling over the deep. The foam is her hair: the curls she inherited from her father… she still feels the water which washed them, trickling from the flask. She had laughed at how it tickled her scalp and ran into her ears as her brother poured it onto her head, his own curls bent over hers in devoted concentration.
It was that memory which had propelled her from the earth and into the sea when word came of his death, casting herself into the ocean to escape a world without him. Yet she had awoken from sleep not death, her body and soul still united in the deep… and the enduring significance of that flask excruciatingly clear.
Her wrath at him for destroying her death split the sea into grey ribbons, and her screams of fury became a twisted echo of her childhood laughter. She despised him for the love she felt, and the love which led him to waste the water of immortality on her. Men perished in her rage, as they had perished in his, screaming to a saviour whose face and name she couldn’t recognise.
Then, when her anger subsided, she could no longer recall the truth of the news from Babylon, and it remains confused in her mind. She seeks nothing more than the answer from passing sailors, calling to them as they gaze down at her in horror.
“Is King Alexander alive?”
Most often, she cannot remember their response, but awakens from a nightmare to find herself surrounded by detritus and the floating corpses of those she asked.
She and the water are unpredictable.
Yet occasionally, sailors look down with combined fear and pity, and call out an answer which offers the balm she seeks to soothe the Aegean.
“He lives and reigns, and conquers over all.”
Comments
Post a Comment