b's evening stories

the house that was

in the house that was there used to live a little girl with ponytails and a little yellow hairpin that her mum had found for her. she used to go out deep down into the woods, sit on red ant nests and come home running with a little black barking dog.  she liked to sing ancient songs that had been banned years before when men had gone to war. at night – or was it forever? – a black spider would come out and tickle her on the eyebrow. the little girl would jump out of bed and play dominoes with the spider on the bedroom floor where the tiles had been coated in yellow and cream glass paint, finished off with a  black netting that made it look like a beehive. in the house that was forget-me-knot would grow on top of the kitchen table, guarding white bowls full of egg yolks stirred in with sugar, and a little bread on the side. but the house that was is no more now. the earth that shook took it away, down into its womb. and so the little girl had to make a new one to carry with her, away from the mountains.

I am very excited to share my dear friend b's evening stories - "the stories i write come knocking on my door during the day but i only let them in in the evening, when the sunlight fades and i am willing to listen. sometimes they come as pictures first. the ones that stay always leave me with a sense of wonder. i don't believe in the word 'the end' 
You can find three of her wonderful stories and photos in my exhibition space. Have a peek , they are just heavenly . b's evening stories