Glad of Another Death...

I love Christmas Eve. For one moment, the world hangs full on the brink of something, and every slither of skin seems to stretch towards it in anticipation, waiting and wishing and tingling to be ready. And its the magic night too, the one time I have very little trouble believing in an awesome, loving God, when all the possibilities and stories and characters I have loved gather themselves about me in solemn anticipation and -
...well, suffice to say thast christmas pales in comparison. Christmas eve is where its at.

Last night though, due to a careful calender, was the carol service, which was almost a beginning in itself. And I woke up this morning already tingling with the quiet excitement that doesnt usually seem to set in until about 5pm today, and...wrote...



So early its still almost dark out, as the
hours and minutes meld into
vague wakefulness, something,
somewhere, starts. Nothing
special, not yet, no
fanfares firing through the hazy half-night dawn, no
breaking news blazoned across a screen, just
silence,
and stillness,
and sleep-stained
waiting.
And, somewhere in the dulled down dark,
the fresh onset of pain.


and then, from a prose perspective....



The night was cold and dark, with a wind that bit against their bones like a wild dog prowling around the houses.
In a room upstairs, the women waited. Even above the clustered bustle of visitors, the screams were unmistakable. Somewhere in that dark night, life was slowly dying.
The women glanced uncomfortably from one to the other; familiar, welcoming faces weathered to weary self-interest, and tried to ignore the cries.
“We could have housed them here?” one, still young, ventured at last.
The elders shook their heads.
“In a house of whores?” another asked, her eyes dull despite the bitterness whipping through her words. “The likes of them have little time for the likes of us.”
An uncomfortable silence settled over the room once again. And, outside, the screams continued. In the room upstairs the women waited, and tried to hope that the new day would not begin with a babe and mother dead, left to fade to a memory in a manger.

Early that morning, while it was still dark, the women went to the tomb, and saw that the stable door had been left ajar. From the stillness within, they thought that they could hear a voice singing. They glanced at each other, barely daring to hope, and crept closer.
In the dusty darkness of the make-shift stable, a baby began to cry.


***

Am I, I wonder, the only person who goes to church and comes back with stories, rather than any interesting theological development? Because I have two new, more adult, tales hovering on the tip of me pen, and I want to write them both. And to have the luxury of time in which to do so. Whereas other people occasionally seem to go for theology.

Oh well.

Happy Christmas to you all, anyway

xxxx

*'so early its still almost dark out', I should add, is a line from a poem called Happiness by Raymond Carver, and the line 'life is slowly dying' is a reference to Philip Larkin's Nothing To Be Said. And, obviously, the prose piece deliberately references the bible, most notably John's gospel. To prevent being hauled away on charges of plagarism... ;)

My dæmons and other animals

So, as you might have noticed earlier, I discovered the dæmon test today (my original is at the bottom of the previous post) and...spent possibly too much time trying to dioscover, from it, who I am. If daemons settle c.puberty, then by rights mine should be settled too, but Nicholeus is proving tricksy in that respect. Very tricsky, in fact.

See, the first time I took the test he appeared as a red fox daemon. The second time a crow. The third a snow leapoard. The fourth a butterfly. And the fifth a fox, again. The problem with myself and online tests, I have discovered, is that I qualify every answer I give. What, I wonder, is the creator of the quiz going to learn from my response to this question? Is this an accurate portrayal, or will they read it differently to me? Is there space, within the scale of strongly disagree to strongly agree, for me to manipulate them towards my own (intentionally feline) ends?
...Yes, what I really wanted was a cat. The only good thing that can be said from this method is that at least I am not memorising the responses...I've repeated it so often that they are a jum,ble and...since each is true to a facet of me...there is definite room for flexibility. Perhaps, indeed, too much.

See, the website lets your friends give their opinions on your dæmon too. Which is great and all, but coiming home from a nice crumpety evening, seeing my Nico-fox trotting home besides me and learning from my emails that the fox has become a spider is...somewhat unnerving! It seems to be a butterfly now (which, oddly enough, I prefer, in that I'm TERRIFIED of spiders) but although I would have thought I'd prefer a butterfly to a fox, I really dont. I miss him terribly. He felt...right.

So I sat down, fearing spiders, and did the quiz again. This time I tried not to watch the pictures shifting to my right. I tried not to think too much or read into them. I tried not to ask any complicated questions at all. The result? Sergius. My third fox. I think I'll save this one the way it is because...unless something very interesting happens to Nico over the next few days...this is how I see my dæmon now. And I love him [insert sniffle here]

It made me wonder, anyway, just how they operate. If it is the personification of a soul & best friend, then surely when stabilising they would know roughly what you wanted and it might influence the stabilisation slightly. And, unless you were a somnewhat sado-masochistic person, its unlikely they would turn into something you were terrified of. In Lyra's world, I presume I would be unlikely to find my dæmon settling into either spider or snake form. Its quite comforting, really. So I'll keep Sergius here. Just in case...




and Nicoleus again... as a reminder...

Worlds Away

A very good friend of mine is in the habit of beginning posts with a "word of the day". Were I to do the same, my world for you today would be Pullman...

It began, innocuosly enough, in creative writing. This takes place every second friday for two hours, and during that space we spend a fair bit of time workshoping each others things in small groups. Now, I love my group to pieces, because they say the nicest thing, but one of their comments today made my brain tingle in excitement.

N: That thing your writing...I dont like much adventure stories - I've only ever liked Philip Pullman, but I like yours. It sort of reminds me of him
Sledgehog: !!!!!!!!


...and then I was kidnapped, by three of my very good friends...

Now, New Line Cinema are in danger of acquiring a Reputation. In this fraught 21st century, where so little seems to be kept pure and constant, New Line seem to have crossed a cinematic boarder. They are fast becoming one of the few companies to produce successful adaptations of novels.


Yes, I looked upon the Golden Compass, and I saw that it was good.


(beware, potential film spoilers in the review below)


(are you sure you want to read this?)


(now?)


(...oh. Ok then)


...Very good, in fact, in my humble opinion at least. Northern Lights was always my favourite of the trilogy. Today I went in half-expecting to be devastated, for cinema has a nasty knack of cruelly butchering my best beloveds (see the tragic case of the Dark is Rising), and laughed and cried and was occasionally truly terrified. The characterisations are fantastic and very true indeed to the book itself (particularly the Jordan College children/Gyptan fight, which was the moment where my fear began its retreat and let me sit back to enjoy the film), the scenery is fantastic, and Dust is alluring, hypnotic and seems very real indeed. My three friends and I, closeted towards the front of the cinema, occasionally found ourselves bursting out into dances of joy.

Of course, there were a few things I would change – there always are – but if I care about something then I'm never convinced that it is entirely finished. I would change the beginning slightly, making the introduction to Dust more...oblique, because I think a lot of the tension derives from the uncertainty of it, and I would have changed the ending. I'm quite impressed actually – the ending was the only concession made towards aiming the film at families – but they did change it slightly. It does not end where you would expect it to end and therefore alters the entire tone. And yes, they probably wanted a semi-happy ending, but I don't see how the part they've omitted will slot happily into the nest film. After seeing this one I'm certain that they'll make it work... I just don't know how...
...And, if we were on some strange utopian planet where I was making the film, I would have demanded a better song for the closing credits. Dodgy rhymes on the name Lyra should be avoided at all costs!

But, overall, I was impressed. I was impressed by Lord of the Rings, and that wavered far further from the novels than this seems to have. And, when they decide to film the Subtle Knife and Amber Spyglass as well... well... I probably wont be able to see the screen for my tears. I had enough trouble today.


On a Similar Note

what do you think of my daemon? accurate?