#also because of that old wives tale where girls steal their mother's beauty in the womb

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

Thinking about. Old wives tales.

[princesssarisa]

The next set of Donkeyskin tales in Cinderella Tales from Around the World take us first to Turkey and Syria, then down to South and East Africa, and then back into Asia through Sri Lanka, India, and finally Japan.

*There are two versions from Turkey in this collection (@faintingheroine). In one, the king resolves to marry his daughter because she fits her dead mother's clothes; she requests gowns that resemble "the sky with stars," "the ground with flowers," and "the sea with fishes," and as in the Italian versions, she disguises herself in a suit made of wood and calls herself "Wooden Mary." In the other, her finger fits her mother's ring; at the advice of a fairy, she requests gowns of gold, silver, and pearls, and then a long fur coat, all of which the devil supplies; after she runs away, she lives alone in a cave for six years before the prince finds her and brings her to the palace. In both versions, the events to which she follows the prince in her finery are three royal weddings in other kingdoms; at the weddings, the prince either gives her three valuable trinkets (version #2), or else she steals them from him (version #1). Then when the prince falls ill with longing for her, she bakes cakes or pastries for him and slips the three trinkets inside, leading to her discovery.

*The Syrian variant is a "heroine hides inside a hollow object" version, in this case a chest. It also portrays the father as "a rich Jew." While this means the heroine herself is also Jewish, which could be good representation, I doubt it was meant that way; since her Jewishness is only mentioned once in the text, while her father is constantly called "the Jew," I'm afraid it's antisemitism, implying that only a Jew would try to marry his own daughter. Especially because in the end, his daughter refuses to forgive him and the prince has him executed.

*The two South African tales aren't exactly Donkeyskin tales as Europe knows them, but they do feature a persecuted heroine dressed in animal skin. In both of these tales, a king or a chief has two wives, each with a daughter.

**In Nya-Nya Bulembu, the king favors one wife and daughter but scorns and abuses the other wife and daughter, and he forces the unfavored daughter to wear the mossy green skin of a water monster so everyone will despise her. But one day she meets an old fairy man who gives her a magic stick that will temporarily restore her human form and bring her food each day. One day a prince comes to visit, sees her during this time, and knowing her true appearance, asks to marry the "monster." When she bathes before the wedding, the green skin floats away on the river, revealing her beauty to all. Meanwhile, her stepsister – a kind girl and a friend to her, in contrast to her cruel mother – is carried away by pigeons, which serves as her wicked parents' punishment as they assume she's dead. But really she's taken to another kingdom where she marries the king and lives happily ever after too.

**In Baboon-Skins, the heroine's stepmother and stepsister are jealous of her beauty, so to protect herself and her mother from their abuse, the girl dresses herself in baboon skins to hide her beauty. Still, she remains graceful and charming, and when a young chief's servants come looking for two brides for their master, her demeanor charms them just as her stepsister's beauty does, and they choose them both. At first the chief is angry, thinking a girl who hides her appearance must be ugly, but her demeanor wins him over too, and on the wedding day, she finally discards the skins.

*A French-language version from Mauritius is called Donkeyskin and basically a transplant of Perrault's version, except for a twist at the end: the prince doesn't get sick, but secretly meets with Donkeyskin after seeing her undisguised and falling in love with her, and urges her to put a ring in a cake that his mother the queen has already ordered her to bake. When she does and he eats the cake, he holds the ring at the back of his throat, pretending it's stuck, and no maiden but Donkeyskin can pull it out.

*The tale from Sri Lanka is called The Scab Girl and is only vaguely a Donkeyskin tale. A baby girl is abandoned by her parents because they wanted a son, but two cranes find her and raise her in a cave. When she grows up, a wicked "Rakshi" discovers her and tries to eat her, so the cranes dress her in cloth covered with scabs to make her look disgusting and inedible, then send her out into the world. She becomes a scullery maid at the king's palace, but secretly takes off her scab cloth to bathe, and eventually her beauty is discovered by the king, who marries her.

*There are three Indian variants, which also bear only a slight resemblance to the European versions, and none of which include attempted incest:

**In The Disguised Princess, the heroine is the eldest of three sisters and betrothed to a prince. But on her wedding day, her jealous younger sisters put sugar in her palanquin, it attracts flies, the prince thinks the flies are attracted to her, and in disgust he has his servants abandon her in the jungle. There she meets a carpenter and has him build her a wooden suit that disguises her as a man. She journeys to the prince's palace, where she wins the prince's favor and becomes a head servant. Meanwhile, the prince is about to marry another princess, but "by accident," when the "man of wood" meets the bride, "he" knocks out her eye with his wooden hand, making her repulsive to the prince. Soon afterward, a washerman tells the prince that every day, the "man of wood" takes off his wooden shell to bathe and reveals a beautiful human form. The Prince sends for "him" and demands to see "his" beauty, and so the princess reveals herself, and the prince marries her.

**In The King and the Fairy, a beautiful golden-haired fairy is persecuted by a Deo (giant), who wants to kill her because she refused to marry him. So she disguises herself in a leather robe covered with treacle, which attracts flies. She becomes a lowly servant in an old woman's house, but one day as she bathes, one of her hairs floats downstream. A prince finds the beautiful golden hair strand and resolves to marry the girl whose head it came from. He invites all the people in the land to a feast; the fairy comes in her disguise, and an elephant approaches her and lifts her up three times, which means that she's the prince's destined bride. The prince is disgusted by her, until he learns from some watchmen that every night, four fairies come and remove her disguise to bathe and perfume her, revealing her true beauty. When she tells him her story, he devises a trick to kill the Deo, leaving the fairy free to resume her true form and marry the prince.

*In The Princess and the Cat, the princess has an enormous pet cat who becomes jealous of all her suitors and claws at them until they run for their lives. To escape from the cat's possessiveness, she runs away, disguises herself in a coat of smelly skins, and becomes known as Chamni ("skin-woman"). She becomes a servant at the prince's palace and is sent out each day to tend the elephants, and when she's alone, she takes off the skin coat. One day the prince sees her, falls in love with her, learns her story, and marries her. When the cat learns of her marriage he comes after the couple, but the prince kills him, and they live happily ever after.

*Last but not least is The Wooden Bowl from Japan, which isn't really a Donkeyskin story, but does share some of the same themes. A poor peasant girl's dying mother instructs her to always wear a wooden bowl over her head to hide her beautiful face and protect her from men's lust. She obeys, and lives by laboring in the fields, mocked and scorned by her fellow workers for the bowl, until a rich farmer takes pity on her and brings her to his house to be his wife's servant. There, the farmer's son manages to catch a glimpse of her face one day, falls in love with her, and resolves to marry her. His relatives object because of her low birth and her oddness, and though she loves him, she refuses his proposal so as not to cause discord. But in a dream, her mother's spirit urges her to accept. On their wedding day, she tries to remove the wooden bowl, only to find that it's stuck. But when the wedding ceremony is complete, the bowl shatters, releasing a shower of pearls, jewels, gold, and silver to serve as her dowry, as well as revealing her beauty.

@ariel-seagull-wings, @themousefromfantasyland, @adarkrainbow

[looking-for-wisdom]

Bleeding Hearts (chapter one)

a/n: this was a fic I did for the @grishaversebigbang! It ended up being roughly 33,000 words, the longest fic I’ve ever written. I loved participating in this event and working with my gang as well as the tides :)

Corporalki: @villainofthepiece​, @dregstrash 

Materialki: @bucumber​ X, @koelsong​ X [art may contain spoilers]

Summary:   Zoya has spent her life learning to survive a world of fairy tales. She knows better to rely on wishes and fate; those things only protected the nice girls, the ones all the stories were about. She was used to doing whatever gruesome task was needed to get by, but now, with her aunt’s life on the line, she has finally met a monster she’s struggling to beat. A monster that comes in the shape of a kind prince she can’t help to grow attached to. 

But that’s always been the case. The monsters are what you find when happiness is just within reach. But she’s strong and she won’t falter— she’ll do what’s needed, as she always has before, to save the only good woman she’s ever known. Even if it means plunging a knife into the heart of the first man she’s ever loved. Even if it means becoming a monster herself.

Ao3 Link: Bleeding Hearts

(chapter one under the cut)

What becomes of the girls whose parents do not teach them unwavering kindness and whose fairy godmothers are not magic enough to keep them from harm? What becomes of the girls the slipper doesn’t fit and the prince does not steal away from drowning in cruelty? There is no happy ending promised at the close of their story. So they learn, learn to swim through the abuse and lift a sword themselves, lest they become another maggot filled body in the graveyard.

Zoya had read the kind of stories where young women overcame their evil stepmothers with their obedience and compassion. Unfortunately, Zoya had no stepmother, just one horrible regular mother who had birthed her and spent every moment after shaping her daughter into an equally horrible side character in someone else’s story. It wasn’t that she was immune to draw of fairy tales and their promises of futures with a prince who called her lovely, but not every girl had that in her cards. Zoya glanced over the hand she’d been dealt. She was not sweet or innocent enough to be the damsel in distress. The game of fate was rigged— with every girl who was saved from misery a hundred others suffered in her stead. 

Shivering but far too afraid to risk asking her mother for a place by the fire, the childish part of her hoped. Winter’s might be less harsh if she was not so alone and unloved. But compassion was a rationed resource, like medicine and wheat. It might have been nice to have, but girls with no one to fight for them had to choose their battles, and unlike bread, kindness didn’t keep her alive. 

Sabina Garin had been wealthy once, many years ago, and like most who had never seen sacrifice, she underestimated its sting. It was easy to be fearless when one had never felt real fear in the first place. 

When her father had passed his inheritance had been split equally between his two daughters. Lilyana, the eldest sister had invested in a plot of land at the edge of town where she kept a small garden and a chicken coop. She built a home there, selling vegetables and eggs in town when she was in need of money, and she was happy. 

With her own cut, Sabina enjoyed the same luxuries she had in her youth. Seeing no appeal in farm work the way her sister did she resided in the house that had belonged to her father. At nineteen she married a handsome man with nothing to his name but a winning smile, and for a while, she was happy as well. At least, until the debt hit. 

Marriage for love is an appealing prospect, but the stories never talk about the bloody endings. No one mentions the way he yells when the money runs out. No one mentions the way she hoards the few jewels she has left because they’re the only thing that makes her feel like herself. No one mentions when the house is taken and she’s bloated and raging from the parasite inside her but he is nowhere to be found.

Sabina’s episodes began not long into her pregnancy. With no trace of her husband and no place to stay but an abandoned stone cottage at the edge of town it wasn’t long before she became unpredictable. It was a miracle that the child made it to its due date in the first place, though one could say it would be the first of many times Lilyana Garin would come to her niece’s aid. 

She had offered her sister help on many occasions, but Sabina had repeatedly refused Lilyana’s generosity. Pride, after all, was the only thing she had left. When Sabina became a danger to herself, however, the older daughter could stay away no longer. Though Sabina had no way of paying the housemaid who had worked for her father, Lilyana ensured she stayed the nine months until the child’s birth, hiding knives from the expecting mother and restraining her hands when she desperately clawed at her body until the skin was nearly gone. For months Lilyana held her breath, praying that her sister might be stabilized and the child would survive. 

And against all odds, her prayers were answered. 

The midwife said the birth went by with relative ease. The mother and child both handled the process exceptionally well. The only oddity was when she asked the mother for a name. Sabina had only sneered. “Call it what you will. It makes no difference to me.”

For the sake of simplicity, the midwife had given the child a placeholder name of sorts, at least until her mother came to her senses. She’d call her Zoya, just until Sabina saw fit to name the girl herself. 

She never did. 

So perhaps if it had been Zoya’s mother who fell ill, she wouldn’t have agreed to the witch’s terms. She couldn’t have cared less for her absentee mother, but when a letter reached Os Alta it brought news of the closest thing to family she’d ever had. 

Her young cousin, Lada, had written of her mother’s condition-- Lilyana had grown feverish and weak. The town’s medics estimated she had two weeks to live.

Desperation had a strange way of sending people deep into the woods where good, honest people lost their morals somewhere in the darkness. It had a way of turning skeptics into the arms of witches. But when it came to saving Lilyana’s life, nothing was too high a cost. Kill the prince. Carve out his heart and leave his body bleeding on the floor. Zoya wasn’t a killer, but a few towns away one of the few good people left in the world was dying. Zoya would have given her soul away a thousand times if Lilyana lived. 

The main square of town jittered with anticipation. The feeling filled Zoya’s chest, clamping down on her lungs and stealing away her breath. Gossip was sweet on the lips of housewives and young maidens, like the juice of an apple after taking a bite. Zoya was no fool; she knew what was on their minds. A few months earlier, the young prince Nikolai had proposed-- but not to a distant princess or nobleman's daughter. He’d given the ring to an orphan girl with no prospects or riches. Faces lit with hope and perhaps a bit of envy whenever they spoke of the prince’s fiance. She’d been from a town just carriage rides away from Os Alta. It could have been any of them. But yesterday, news had come that the girl had left Os Alta for good, leaving the promises of riches and romance behind her. Not a single person could figure out why. 

She’d been given a shot at a storybook ending. Zoya wasn’t gullible enough to believe her life would have been perfect, but when she thought of what her own future held, even she couldn’t help a pang of irritation. She would have taken wealth in a heartbeat over her fate. She shifted the basket she carried up onto her shoulder, the weight of it exhausting her arm at a rapid pace. With her other hand she lifted her skirts in a futile attempt to keep the mud from seeping into the fabric as it dragged along the ground. As she walked she overheard elated conversations.

“They say she was beautiful-- hair like starlight and a smile like the sun. It’s surreal, honestly, that some everyday girl won over a prince. She must be quite something,” said a girl she’d met only in passing, to a young blonde woman at the baker’s stand. Then, with a cheeky smile, added, “Maybe I'll find myself a princess soon with my winning looks.” 

Across the way a middle aged woman shared her own thoughts on the matter with her daughter. “Perhaps if you spent less time fooling around that could have been us! We’d have been rich, you idiotic girl!—”

Despite herself, Zoya felt a familiar chill go down her back.

Tiny people, wrapped up in their tiny lives, bound to accomplish tiny things. For perhaps the first time ever Zoya envied them. At the end of the city’s main road, after dozens of wooden merchant stands and civilians homes, were the woods. Travel in Ravka was unavoidable, but most families stuck within the cities borders as much as possible. The forests on the outskirts of town were places of darkness and witchcraft beyond the understanding of the standard civilian. However, there were ways to make navigating the woods less dangerous. Old wives tales said to carry black tea leaves in one’s left shoe or bury a lock of hair in the dirt before beginning your journey. Most nonbelievers opted for a professional guide. 

Zoya had no guide as she found her way between the brush and trees, though, nor was her shoe supplied with tea leaves. Her travels through the woods were not a situation of point A to point B. 

Zoya intended to find a witch. 

An hour in, Zoya had acquired a multitude of new cuts up her arms from low hanging branches and nearly destroyed what was left of her skirt by snagging it on thorn coated weeds. She’d also come across at least fifteen new types of bug she’d never seen before and honestly could have gone her whole life without. Zoya had learned to hold her own against all sorts of dangers growing up in Pachina, but that didn’t make her any less disgusted by the grimes and grudge of the Ravkan forest. 

She dragged onwards, a cool sweat gathering on her forehead and regrets filling her mind. Of course— hundreds of people go missing every year without any explanation and yet the one time she goes looking for trouble the death forest decides to be a normal lot of trees. Typical. 

“Don’t know how to handle someone who doesn’t fear you? Is that it?” She called out to no one in particular. “I didn’t realize witches were such cowards.”

Or perhaps she was just a stupid child, looking for magic where it didn’t exist. Perhaps those people had simply been mauled and eaten by bears and she was the idiot trying to be the next. 

The sun passed over the sky as she became more and more hopelessly lost in a forest where she seemed to be the only inhabitant. Honestly, witches had no respect for willing customers these days. She only realized just how much time had passed when dusk began to fall. Night was coming, and she had no idea how to get back to the city. It was one thing to be in the forest during the light of day, but trapped in the darkness with no food or water was something else entirely. 

The moon shone a sickening white glare onto the black dirt floor, seeming to take all the pigment from her skin. Zoya hadn’t been afraid of the dark for many years, but there was something… off about the way the darkness felt here, as if it was alive and feeding on any sort of life. Goosebumps rose on her skin, and she tensed, waiting for something horrible but not knowing what. 

She stood, frozen, listening for any sound other than her own shallow breathing. But nothing moved, not even tree branches in the wind. She was alone. 

Which made it all the more terrifying when someone spoke. 

“What could possibly bring a lone girl to the woods at night?” said a molasses smooth voice from behind her. 

Zoya spun around and was greeted by a pale faced man with dark hair who was far too close for her to not have noticed his approach. Every instinct in her mind screamed to back up, but she forced her legs to stay in place. She would not be intimidated. She met the man’s void black eyes with a fearsome stare. “I’m searching for a witch with the kind of magic to help me,” she stated, voice like steel. “Tell me, would you fit that description?”

A sly smile curled across his face and sent a chill down her spine.

 “That depends,” he crooned, “what can you offer me in return, Zoya Nazyalensky of Pachina?”

Zoya felt a certain sort of dread sink into her chest. There was something wrong with this man-- he knew things he shouldn’t. She should have been afraid, but a morbid part of her was drawn to it. 

She wondered, despite herself, what would it be like to be him? She’d never feel small with a power like that at her disposal. She’d never be made a fool of. For a moment, the swell of her envy almost overpowered her reason, but then she thought of Lilyana. She was not here to find a way to be rid of her own weaknesses. Zoya shook the initial fog of his presence from her mind and reminded herself that for once, she would not be selfish. 

“What is it you want?” she retorted.

His smile did not falter as he considered. He slipped past her, like an ink spill with legs, so that she had to turn to keep sight of his face. Her eyebrows furrowed together in confusion as he walked away from her, but just as she was about to call out for him to stop he paused and glanced back at her. “Well?” he asked. “Are you coming?”

Her mind was empty of a response, perhaps still caught up on the absurdity of what she was doing. Her legs, thankfully, had instincts of their own and carried her forward when he began walking again so she didn’t lose sight of him in the darkness. He led her through the trees, as if he was navigating a maze for which only he had the map. As lost as she’d already felt, it was nothing compared to the lack of an internal compass she had now. The forest had consumed her completely. 

This was insane. Her mind ran rampant with possibilities as the silence between them grew longer. She’d be murdered by this demon of the woods and no one would even hear her scream as he dismembered her. She should run while she still had the chance. 

Except, if she ran Liliyana died. 

So, she kept walking. They entered a clearing of land. At the center of the plot was a looming mansion of black stone and though Zoya was no expert on the woods, she had spent the day wandering its depths and knew for certain the building had not been there before. This man’s magic was dark, but it was also powerful-- she needed powerful. The dark haired man led her to the tall doorway of the structure and held open the wooden door. “We can discuss terms inside.”

She hesitated for just a beat. This could very well be the room in which he planned to butcher her and bake her liver into a pie. She considered this man she knew nothing about and what he was offering. If there was even the smallest chance he could help her, she had to take it. 

There was no going back. She stepped through the door frame and into the home of a witch.

Whatever she had expected, this was not it. She remembered the tale of witches with homes of candy to lure in naive children. She had thought she’d see cages filled with starving creatures and cobweb covered jars holding various gruesome substances. She had thought there would be a cauldron to brew potions that would cure dying aunts. To her surprise, though, there was nothing of the sort. The floors were a sleek black tile and the walls were covered in bookcases filled to the brim with titles in languages she didn’t understand. Golden lamps hung down from the ceiling, casting a warm light onto the sleek table in the center of the room filled with well kept paper and an ink well. Tapestries of the night sky made with painstaking care hung as the rooms most prominent decor. 

If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought she’d wandered into the home of one of Ravka’s most wealthy nobles. 

She swung around to face the man, who had been observing her carefully since her first step into the room. “First things first, who exactly are you?” She asked, eyes narrowed. 

“Names are a powerful thing, Zoya,” he answered as he walked towards the desk at the center of the room. Something about the way he moved reminded her of black silk. “For now, you can call me The Darkling.”

Her lips pulled together in a tight line and placed a hand on her hips. For a moment she considered calling him out on his pretentiousness-- what kind of title was “The Darkling”-- but she restrained herself. In the grand scheme of things his name hardly mattered, and angering him didn’t strike her as the best way to get what she wanted.

He took a seat at the desk and gestured to the chair directly across from him. Smoothing her skirt as she sat down, she felt almost like she was at a business meeting in the town square and not trying to make a blood deal. “I’ve heard that magic can do things science can’t. Buildings are created without any regard for physics and wounds that normally kill are healed in a split second,” she began, an authority in her voice that she hoped hid the fact there was no real power behind it. “My aunt is ill. The doctors say there’s nothing to be done, but that is the opinion of a medic, not a magician. Can you save her?”

A certain rage sparked within her when he didn’t look her in the eye. She didn’t have the time to waste on a man who could do nothing for her. She had already lost a day to the woods, and here he sat, unimpressed and hardly listening. Part of her wanted to get up and leave right then and there if he wasn’t going to give her request the dignity it deserved, but she stayed seated, waiting. 

He spoke then. “I can,” Zoya’s breath caught half way in her throat. Hope crawled into her lungs and left no room for breath, “but it will cost you.” 

“I don’t care,” she responded, not missing a beat. “I’ll trade my life for hers, just name the price.”

He wasn’t smiling, but Zoya could almost see the grin in his eyes and felt like she’d just walked into a hunter’s snare. “I know you’re afraid of me, Zoya,” he said, and though she wanted to insist that some stranger in the woods didn’t scare her, her words fell flat, “but I have known you for much longer than you believe. Your familiar with a blade, aren’t you?”

Zoya swallowed the lump rising in her throat and nodded. When she was young she’d studied swordplay when her mother was away. Soldiers left home to begin their training at fourteen in Ravka, and for a girl whose home had been anything but stable, it had been an appealing opportunity. The issue was, the army was for men only. She’d hoped they’d see her skill and immediately make an exception, but when she was finally old enough to enlist she’d been turned away at the gate. 

How this witch knew that was beyond her. “I believe we can help one another. For you, I will not only return your aunt to health, but also give you the chance to pursue your dream,” he continued. “All I ask in return is that you rid Ravka of what is standing in our way. The Lantsov line has held this country back far too long-- I plan to lead us into the future, and I’ll need a general by my side. The only thing you need to do is get rid of the old crook’s heir.”

Zoya could barely breathe. It was all too good to be true-- first he’d claimed he could help Liliyana and then he’d promised her what she’d dreamed of since childhood.  She would have taken the deal in a heartbeat if he wasn’t asking her to commit treason in return.

“Vasily,” she breathed, but he only shook his head. 

“He’s not nearly competent enough to be a concern. Talents like yours should be spent on a real threat. The king’s second born, Nikolai, is much more clever than his brother,” said the Darkling. “I know you don’t trust me yet, but my intentions are good. You, of all people, have seen the state of this nation-- the hardship it’s people face. You and I are very similar: ambitious, strong,  and intelligent. We can change things.”

She chewed her lip and shifted in her seat, weighing the pros and cons. Zoya was many things, but she wasn’t a murderer. 

At least, not yet. 

Her rejection from the army had allowed her to keep her hands blood free until now. It wasn’t that she had any compassion for the prince, but there was nothing noble about slaughtering an unknowing victim. The honor of serving her country and protecting her people against an enemy who would kill her if she didn’t end them first was vastly different than what he was asking her to do. 

In the end, the morality of the proposal didn’t matter. If it was one life to save another, Liliyana was more important. The only question was whether or not The Darkling had any credibility to his offer. It was true she barely knew him, but for the first time since she had first encountered him he seemed fully sincere. A tug in her gut told her he was right. She didn’t know if they were as similar as he claimed, but something deep inside her made her believe his love for Ravka was as real as her own. 

And if he was telling the truth about that, then he was probably true in his claim that he could heal her aunt, too. Or, at the very least, she had to believe it was true. She feared she would not be presented with another opportunity like this.

It was the best chance she had, even if it would make a killer out of her. She stared him down, taking in the room that had appeared from nothing. “I’ll do it.”

She could repent her sin later by aiding this man in his journey to lead Ravka into an age of prosperity. That was for later, though. For now, Zoya just needed a plan.

The Darkling smiled knowingly, but as far as she could tell it was not mocking. Looking away for only a moment, he pulled a quill from somewhere she couldn’t see and handed it to her. 

“Find your way into the castle and get close to the prince. Trust will make him foolish. If you need to contact me, use that quill. The ink will find its way back to me. When it is time to put the plan into motion I will contact you. Until then, keep your wits about you.”

“Wait--” she interrupted, afraid he’d simply dissipate after giving his orders. “How am I supposed to infiltrate the palace? They don’t just allow anyone inside.”

“Nikolai has been in need of a new Etherialki for a few weeks now,” he answered, unphased. She tried not to wonder what kind of spies he must already have under the Lantsovs’ noses to have that kind of information. “You will be filling the position.” 

The servants of the Lantsov family were divided into three orders: Coporalki, Etherealki, and Materialki. Coporalki had a tendency to remain in the palace. They were responsible for keeping the palace functioning properly and were trained in the art of medicine. Materialki was the class of any sort of specialist working within the Lantsov’s walls. From chefs, to tailors, to blacksmiths, each played their part in making up the artisans category. 

Etherealki were traveling companions to the royal family and whatever rich guest happened to be staying with them. They accompanied their charge from dawn till dusk, braving and complication of man or nature along the way.They were known to think on their feet to quickly amend any problem their employer might encounter. It was, without a doubt, the most fitting role for Zoya’s skill set.

 “What about my aunt? She might not last long enough for whatever you’re planning to be ready.”

“There’s no need to worry-- deliver your end of our agreement and I swear to you that your aunt will live.”

He extended a hand towards her and she examined him one last time. Growing up, she’d been told to never trust witches, and here she stood, going into business with one. If life had taught her anything, it was that the worst monsters aren’t always supernatural in nature. For all intents and purposes, the Darkling seemed to have good intentions. More than that, he had the power to save her aunt. 

From every angle, Zoya came out of this deal with what she wanted. 

She held his gaze and took his palm in a firm handshake before gathering her things and heading back into town.

[anythingstephenking]

The Morally Grey Mile

Strap in for another grim tale. At least men are the ones getting fucked in The Green Mile, amirite ladies? No, still not cool? Ok then.

I suppose it is a disservice to call The Green Mile solely a “grim” tale, but because the core story focuses on an innocent man headed to the electric chair, it is pretty damn grim. If you haven’t read the book you’ve seen the movie but spoilers anyway - the innocent man dies and it sucks for the reader. It’s certainly more complicated than “bad wins” but a real bummer all the same.

Backing up a bit. The Green Mile was King’s first attempt at a serialized story release. In the book’s forward, King tells us it’s story of inception. Through a series of fortuitous events and a conversation with business associates about Charles Dickens, King concocted the idea to release a story in a series of “chapbooks”. Apparently Dickens released some of his stories that way, and they were so fervently popular that a band of dingdongs pushed each other off a dock and drowned while awaiting a shipment of Dickens into Baltimore Harbor. I imagine if the Harry Potter books were released that way I would have ended up in the harbor too. No judgement, zealous Dickens readers, I get it.

Logically, if it worked for 19th century Dickens, it would surely work for 20th century Stephen King, right? 

(cue Mr. Burns fingers). 

A single book released in installments monthly, garnering 3-4x the cost of a single paperback. Good for you SK, good for you. Cause turns out, the constant reader ate it up and bought ‘em like hotcakes.

Cause that’s the thing - this is a really really good story. Not because it’s beautifully written like Cujo or Firestarter or mind-bending like The Dark Tower books, but because it is a real page turner. I credit the format for that - you can tell it was written in a plot-driven, cliffhanger kinda way. In the same way serialized TV (before binging took this joy away) would leave you wanting more week to week, The Green Mile leaves each installment in a way where you can’t imagine not picking up the next one.

Per my contractual agreement with myself, I am required to reach each and every page of this story, but I’m a strange bird and the rest of the world isn’t a weirdo like me. At the end of the day, the narrative structure here really works and I plowed through all 6 installments in a day or so. Those reading in real-time (and not binging like me) waited a month between each publishing, from March through August 1996. There was no dock delivery in Baltimore in 1996 but I imagine if there was, the crowd waiting for each would be large.

So the narrative approach works, but what about the story itself? My analysis comes back slightly muddy but mostly positive despite some hard to swallow flaws.

I can’t claim to know what death row would have been like in 1932, but I’ve watched enough PBS documentaries to know what it’s like now. The group held at Cold Mountain are described as killers, yes. As rapists and wife beaters and arsonists. But they also come across like a rag-tag group of buds that should have their own reality TV show. One of the prisoners, Del, raped and murdered a young girl then accidentally killed a bunch of other people trying to cover his tracks by setting the building on fire. But he’s got this cute, somewhat supernatural mouse named Mr. Jingles that does tricks. Ain’t it cute? Then he fries and literally catches on fire in the electric chair.

I understand the intention of the tale - humanity lives in all of us. Empathy shouldn’t be reserved just for some. Death is final and it comes for all of us. What I struggled with was trying to understand if this was blatant reference to King’s personal stance on the Death Penalty (against it, obvs) or something more subtle. Should we take away that killing is wrong no matter what? Or that there is more nuance at play here?

Because there’s more happening on the green mile than just murderers dying (no matter how dramatically) in the chair comically nicknamed “ol’ sparky”. We’ve got John Coffey in chains, convicted of raping and murdering two 9 year old girls. JFC. I just can’t.

But he did, and he will die for his crimes. Here’s where the controversy around this novel begins. John Coffey is a large black man with magical powers. Spike Lee specifically calls out King publicly for this “magical negro” trope, which honestly I can’t disagree with. Dick Halloran from The Shining and Mother Abigail from The Stand fall neatly in this bucket as well. But even as I type this I know I am cherry-picking; I’ve read plenty of King stories with mystical beings and they’re mostly white (or more often other worldly). But King’s repeated use of the n-word and other racial slurs in his writing is real cringeworthy. As I move further towards his 21st century writing I keep hoping this will stop. It hasn’t yet, as of 1996. But King and writing about race is an entirely separate post for another day.

Back to The Green Mile; we learn that John Coffey has special healing powers when he cures the head guard, Paul Edgecomb of a UTI by grabbing his crotch. Normally this type of behavior will get ya thrown in the hole, but Paul’s so grateful he lets it slide.

Once we learn of the healing powers of Coffey, it doesn’t take Sherlock Holmes to solve the mystery. While getting arrested he cries “I tried to stop it but it was too late.” Everyone involved in the investigation assumes he means he tried to stop himself from murder but couldn’t; anyone with half a brain can deduce that someone else killed the girls; he tried to heal them. He was too late.

We’re set off to learn who really murdered the girls, but this revelation takes a backseat, at least in my mind. For me, the big mystery is; will John Coffey get executed? I’ll be honest, I hadn’t seen this movie, so I didn’t know. The phone the governor used to phone in stays-of-execution was mentioned early, so my Chekhov’s Gun senses lead me to believe it was possible. Why bother if not? Well the phone is mentioned at execution time, only to say it won’t ring. And of course it never really was a question - Coffey is a black man in the south, convicted of murdering two girls in 1932. Of course no one’s coming to save him. It’s sad. Real sad.

We’re given solace in the fact that Coffey claims he’s ready to go - his powers are too much and he’s tired. This is a nonsense cop out that provides relief to all those that understand the truth, allowing them to go on living, loving their wives and kids and casseroles. John Coffey should not have died. The end. 

Things are wrapped up in a bow with the end stories of everyone involved and their timely and untimely deaths. I guess that’s it; life sucks, then you die; death can come for you in any way, without discrimination.

I earmarked what is one of my favorite lines I’ve encountered so far in King’s work.

“We had once again succeeded in destroying what we could not create.”

Executing anyone (murderer or not) takes a toll on most of the prison staff. I just loved this so much on so many levels; they are men without the ability to create life; they are not god; they are mortals stealing mortality. So beautiful.

So, it’s no stretch to call this the brother of Shawshank, but at least we get a female character in Paul Edgecomb’s wife. I don’t remember her name so that’s not great. But she was a woman and she at least was there, so it gets knocked up a few rungs from Shawshank IMHO.

I’d have to say this is one King novel that really perplexed me. I suppose I got into the routine of enjoying typical good-vs-evil tales where the good guys eventually overcome. For me, The Green Mile wasn’t green at all but a wavering shade of grey I still can’t see properly.

(Side note: As I sat down to write this, I thought to myself “I’m not sure what I’ll say about The Green Mile.” Turns out, quite a bit, this is probably one of my longest entries. Who knew?)

8/10

First Line: This happened in 1932, when the state penitentiary was still at Cold Mountain.

Last Line: I know that, but sometimes, oh God, the Green Mile is so long.

Adaptations:

Like it’s brother Shawshank Redemption, I had never seen this movie before. It made it’s run through awards season in 1999, mostly for Michael Clarke Duncan’s portrayal of John Coffey. Who later tragically died of a heart attack with his girlfriend Omarosa (of Trump WH fame) which I didn’t know, but good golly, that is another sad story for another day.

Listen, this is a highly regarded movie that’s on many top lists, so I won’t stab into it too hard. But it is SO LONG.

Frank Darabont got his panties all in a bunch when folks told him a 3 hour running time was too long, claiming that if 2 hours was the correct length of a film that cinema classics like Lawrence of Arabia were invalidated. Well guess what? I’ve seen Lawrence of Arabia, and yes that shit is too. damn. long. As is The Green Mile.

One would think that with 3+ hours of material, the character development would be on point. It’s not really; the prisoners are mostly glossed over (even more so than in the book) as lovable murders. Wild Bill is the exception (overacted by Sam Rockwell), and he serves as the sole real “bad guy”. 

Edgecomb and his other prison guards are painted as saints (again, minus one guard who takes on the “bad guy of the good guys” role). If the book was grey the movie is much more black and white. Tom Hanks for president for sure, the guy is a national treasure. But they were one step away from giving him an actual halo. As someone complicit in the murder of an innocent man, I just can’t declare his character for sainthood. The real Tom Hanks, a million times yes. Paul Edgecomb? Nah.

The movie is fine. I approve of Darabont’s relationship with King and have thoroughly enjoyed their previous collaborations. I was sad to see that he let his film rights to The Long Walk expire last year, picked up by New Line and James Vanderbilt (of Vanderbilt fortune... old money... sigh) who penned Zodiac, which leaves me slightly hopeful but assume it’ll trickle back into development limbo for the remainder of eternity.

I’ve already finished my next read, Desperation and after I slog through the 2.5 hour ABC miniseries (UGH) I will keep trucking. New Year, more pressure placed on myself to plow through the back half of King’s bibliography.

[dontsaythreehundred-blog]

Russian Fairy Tales (Part 2)

Morozko

Stepmother has a daughter and stepdaughter. The old woman decides to drive the stepdaughter out of the yard and orders her husband to take the girl "in a clear field to the crackling frost." He obeys.

In the clear field Morozko greets the girl. She responds gently. Morozko becomes a pity for the stepdaughter, and he does not freeze it, but gives a dress, a fur coat, a chest of dowry.

The stepmother already celebrates the wake of the stepdaughter and tells the old man to go to the field, bring the girl's body to bury. The old man returns and brings his daughter - a living, elegant, with a dowry! The stepmother orders her daughter to be taken to the same place. Morozko nose comes to look at the guest. Not waiting for the girl "good speeches", he kills her. The old woman expects the daughter to return with wealth, but instead the old man brings only a cold body.

I strongly advise you to watch this movie. I looked at it as a child, and grew up as a good person, as you see, heh. Seriously, this is a masterpiece.

Khavroshechka

There was a family: mother and father died, only daughter - Khavroshechka and a cow - were left. Aunt Bobyrikha took them to her. Haroshechka worked for her aunt and her daughters - One-Eyed, Double-Eyed and Three-Eyed. One day aunt sent Khavroshechka to graze a cow and asked to weave cloths, which she would not be able to handle in a month. But she was helped by a cow - a girl climbed into one of her ears, and got out into another, the work was all done and she became a beauty. The aunt was very surprised, she asked even more work and sent One-Eyed with Havroshechka. But Khavroshechka put her to sleep, and she climbed the cow in her ear. So my aunt did not recognize anything. The next day she sent Double-Eyes - also nothing. Only for Three-Eyed Havroshechka forgot to put the third eye to sleep. She told her mother everything. They decided to kill the cow. The cow asked Khavroshechka not to eat her meat, but to collect the stones and plant them in the ground. So she did. On that place grew a golden apple tree. The prince passed by, asked the apple to treat. Who will treat him - he will be his wife. Thetetkins did not get their daughters, their apple trees slashed in the face, and they fell into the hands of Havroshechka. The Tsarevich took her to the palace, and the apple tree grew under her window the next

Kolobok

There lived a grandmother and grandfather. And they decided to bake a kolobok, because they had nothing to eat. Scratched on the beetroots, collected a little flour, baked a kolobok and set it on the window to cool.

Grandfather and grandmother did not have time to blink, as the kolobok came to life, jumped out of the window and rolled along the forest path. He met a rabbit who wanted to eat it, but the kolobok ran away from him. Then he met a wolf, also wanted to eat it, but the kolobok also escaped from the wolf. And the bear wanted to eat it, and he left the bear.

A cunning fox met the kolobok , too, decided to eat it, and said to him: "Sing a song to me!". He climbed a song to the nose to sing. And the fox took it and ate it.

Elena The Wise

In one village lived an old woman with her son. His son's name was Ivan, and he was so untalented that he could not do anything, for whatever he took. His old mother lamented about this and dreamed of marrying him on an economic wife.

  Once, when the mother and her son ate everything that was in their house, the old woman again began to lament over her unlucky son, and Ivan, meanwhile, was sitting on a mound. An old man passed by and asked to eat. Ivan honestly replied that all the food in their house was over, but he washed the old man in the bath and laid him to sleep on the stove. And in the morning my grandfather promised Ivan that he would not forget his good and would certainly thank him.

 The next day Ivan promised his mother that he would get bread and went to the old man. The old man brought him to his hut in a forest village, fed a roast lamb with bread, and sent two breadcries and another ram to Ivan's mother. After talking and knowing that Ivan was not married, his grandfather called his daughter and married her to Ivan.

  The daughter of the old man was very clever and called her Elena the Wise. They lived with Ivan well, Ivan's mother became full and satisfied. Grandfather sometimes went into the road, where he collected wisdom and wrote it down in his book of wisdom. Once he brought a magic mirror into which the whole world could be seen.

  Soon the grandfather gathered in the next campaign for wisdom, called Ivan and gave him the key to the barn, but he did not allow Elena to try on a dress that hung in the far corner. When the grandfather left, Ivan went to the barn and found there chests with gold and other good, and in the far closet a magical beautiful gown of gems could not resist calling Elena.

  Elena liked the dress very much and she persuaded Ivan to give it to him to try on. Wearing a dress and expressing a wish, she turned into a dove and flew away from Ivan. Ivan set out on the road-journey and went in search of Helena the Wise. On the way, he saved a pike and a sparrow from death, who promised to repay him.

  Ivan walked a long time and reached the sea. There he met a local resident and learned that Elena the Wise lives in this realm and came to her palace. Around the palace was a palisade, on which the heads of the bridegrooms of Elena were planted, who could not prove to her their wisdom. Ivan met with Elena and she gave him the task to hide so that she could not find him.

  At night, Ivan helped the servant Daria to darn the magic dress of Elena the Wise, for which she was very grateful to him. And in the morning Ivan began to hide. At first he hid in a haystack, but Daria from the porch screamed to him that even she could see him, as the dogs gave him away. Then Ivan called the pike, which hid it on the bottom.

  However, Elena used her magic items - a mirror and a book of wisdom and found it. For the first time she forgave him and allowed her to hide again. Then Ivan asked the sparrow for help. The sparrow turned Ivan into a grain and hid it in his beak. But Elena the Wise has again found it with the help of the book of wisdom, having broken thus the mirror which could not find Ivan.

  And the second time Elena did not execute Ivan, but allowed him to hide. This time, he was helped by Daria, whom he saved from death, sewing a dress. Daria turned Ivan in the air and breathed in, and then breathed out into the book of wisdom and Ivan became a letter. Elena the Wise looked at the book for a long time, but could not understand anything. Then she threw the book on the floor, the letters flew and one of them turned into Ivan.

  Then Elena the Wise understood that her husband Ivan was not so untalented, once he could outwit a magic mirror and a book of wisdom. And he again began to live, live and make good. And the next morning their parents came to visit them and were glad for them. And Ivan the untalented and Elena the Wise lived for a long time and happily, and their parents too.

Heck. There is so much text here. Forgive me if something sounds strange.

Vasilissa Mikulishna

On, there is my favorite!

Vasilisa Mikulishna possesses the qualities of an outstanding hero, with intelligence, courage and modesty. She forbids her husband to show off her virtues. But Stavr Godinovich does not listen to his wife - at the feast of Prince Vladimir in Kiev he brags, and falls for bragging in the cellar.

Vladimir orders his wife to be brought to her palace. Having learned about the misfortune, she disguises herself as a Tatar ambassador (the son of the Lahovetz King - in another version) and took name Vasily. However, Zabava Putyatichna immediately realized that this is a disguised woman. Vladimir tries to test the guest to find out whether he is a man or a woman. Vasilisa misleads him, demands Zabava Putyatichna for herself in her wives, and at the wedding feast this Tatar ambassador says that, say, "guslary songwriters are bad," and demands to bring Stavr. Stavr takes with him, leaves and then opens to her husband, after which Vasilisa and Stavr leave for Chernigov (to Lithuania - in another version). On what the epic ends.

I think if this fairy tale was not written at that time, then there would be something about femslash.

Snegurochka (Snow Maiden)

Fairy-tale parents have different views on the upbringing of their daughter. Frost believes that she is better in the woods among birds and animals, but Spring believes that the daughter needs to people. Parents decide to give the girl a house on the outskirts of the village, where the guys do not embarrass her heart. Snow Maiden - already an adult girl - is also asked if she wants to people. She answers, what especially attracts her song of the shepherd Lel. After ordering her to stay away from him, they let her go.

The girl from the outskirts of the suburb was joyed by the girl - Bobyl and Bobylikha. Their hopes to get rich, having favorably given the adoptive daughter in marriage, do not come true, since the Snow Maiden is too cold with the grooms. But once Bobyl let Lel spend the night for money. He tries to seduce the girl, but, not having received from her a kiss, he runs away to the more cheerful girls.

By the way, Snegurochka becomes a cause of discord in many pairs, because girls are jealous of their suitors to a cold beauty. Only Kupava was kind to the Snow Maiden, but until then, when her fiancé, who had already come forward, fell in love with an icy virgin.

Foster parents force the Snow Maiden to accept rich gifts, although she does not want to offend a girlfriend - steal her fiancé. He dares to tell Kupava that he has stopped loving because of her "excessive" passion, which seems to him a foretaste of betrayal of the future. The insulted and abandoned girl tries to drown herself, but Lel saves her.

He is looking for the protection of Kupava from Tsar Berendey, asking whether one can believe an honest word. Of course, the lord responds that only on a part of the human everything keeps on. Then she convicts the deceiver, demands that he be punished.

To reward the traitor and please the sun god (and on the advice of Elena's beautiful wife) Berendey declares battle with Lel for the Snow Maiden's heart. Lel sings so beautifully that she wins. He can kiss the Snow Maiden and, in general, any. And he rejects the cold girl, choosing Kupava.

It is Lel explains to the Snow Maiden that she does not know love, but only pride, jealousy. However, true love will kill the Snow Maiden. And yet, despite the warning of the mother of Spring, the girl is ready to give her life for a moment of true love. As a result, her ex-boyfriend becomes the former Kupava fiancé.

Immensely happy, he leads a new bride to the mountain, so that everyone can meet the holiday of the Sun, he does not believe in her fears. And there the Snow Maiden melts happy. A deceived bridegroom rushes off the hill.

In the last lines it is said that his death should not be sad, because now Jarila is sacrificed.

[floraexplorer]

A Haunted Guide to Lunenburg, The Spookiest Town in Nova Scotia

At first glance, the little town of Lunenburg, Nova Scotia, is picture-perfect.

Under bright skies, tourists flock to Lunenburg to eat ice cream, shop for souvenirs, and learn about the town’s rich maritime history at the Fisheries Museum of the Atlantic.

Lunenburg is famous for its brightly coloured clapboard houses lining the narrow streets, and for its picturesque harbour, home to the famous tall ship Bluenose II. And as one of the best surviving British-built colonial towns in North America, the whole of Lunenburg’s Old Town is also a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

But as the sun begins to set, the streets of Lunenburg seem to mysteriously empty.

What you don’t see in the daylight is Lunenburg’s spooky side – because this is a town filled to the brim with ghosts, witches, and spiritual stories. Every night, the streets of the Old Town are lit up by lanterns as the braver tourists set out on the Haunted Lunenburg Walking Tour.

Lunenburg is an historic town – but it’s also a haunted one. 

A history of Nova Scotia: why is it so haunted?

Over the generations, the people of Nova Scotia have grown up in close proximity with death.

The province’s maritime history is largely responsible: as almost all of Nova Scotia’s landmass is unsuitable for agriculture, the economy has always been based around fishing. When sailors left shore they’d be gone for months at a time, and there was no guarantee they’d return.

Storms, shipwrecks and drownings often occurred. Those lost at sea were commemorated with granite memorials in the places they hailed from – and the bodies of victims who made it back home were buried in cemeteries right in the centre of towns, not shunted off to the outskirts.

It’s been said that Lunenburg has more folklore, witches, superstitions and ghost stories than any other place in Nova Scotia. And when you stand in the town’s 300-year-old cemetery at the top of a street named Gallows Hill, you get the feeling it could be true.

Read more: the most beautiful cemetery I’ve ever seen 

A turnstile at the entrance to Garrison Graveyard in Annapolis Royal, NS

Although we’d only been in Nova Scotia for two days when we arrived in Lunenburg, Kim and were already getting familiar with the province’s spooky past.

In Halifax the night before, we’d enjoyed a fancy dinner at the Five Fishermen Restaurant – and in between bites of lobster mac and cheese I’d been on the lookout for poltergeist activity. The Five Fishermen building used to be a funeral parlour and mortuary back in the 19th century and prepared dozens of the Titanic victims for burial.

And just that morning we’d visited the lighthouse at Peggy’s Cove, famed for the ghost of a woman in a blue dress named Margaret. Her husband was lost to the sea, and she’s wandered the rocks mourning for him ever since.

So we were well-prepared for some haunted goings on in Lunenburg. Or so we thought.

[Photo by Kim Leuenberger]

A spooky night on the Haunted Lunenburg Walking Tour

The sun had already set when we met our guide Kerriann beside a splintered bench. A tiny sign hung above it, advertising the tour; a collection of lanterns sat on the steps beside her, candles waiting to be lit.

Kerriann introduced herself as an eighth-generation Lunenburger, and a direct descendant of the Moreash clan. Many of her ancestors called these same streets home, and their names cropped up repeatedly throughout the tour.

A bored-looking teenager with his parents walked towards us. They were the last three members of our little tour group, and after Kerriann handed out the lanterns we set off together.

[Photo by Kim Leuenberger]

From the moment she began to speak, it was clear that Kerriann had worked extremely hard to perfect her storytelling skills – and I realised that it wouldn’t be fair for me to give away the specifics of her stories in writing.

What I can describe is the atmosphere she created.

As we wandered past ornate houses and looming hotels, Kerriann told us ghost stories about Lunenburg’s long-dead residents: the disgruntled hotel owner tormenting guests; the murderous husband who was the last man hung beside the jail; the young girl forever standing in a ‘Lunenburg Bump’, waiting for her long lost love.

The ‘Lunenburg Bump’ is a curious architectural wonder in the town – an extended dormer window built into the top floor of many Lunenburg houses, it first began as a way to provide a bit more light and air, but quickly gained pace as neighbours took the idea and developed it.

Nowadays Lunenburg is filled with Bumps of all varieties, and it’s all too easy to imagine them as a type of ‘widows walk’. How many wives, fiancees, mothers and daughters of sailors and captains have patiently stood watch up there, waiting for their seafaring men to come home?

Superstitions are still alive and well in Lunenburg

The widow’s walk is just one of many superstitions to still hold weight here. The residents of Lunenburg are a tight-knit community, which means they’ve been raised with an oral history.

Familiar stories passed down through generations are responsible for shaping the behaviours of thousands of Lunenburgers – and alongside her ghostly tales, Kerriann explained the amount of superstitious belief which has influenced much of Lunenburg: how wearing grey mittens when fishing would bring grey skies, or how Lunenburg houses were built with identical front and back doors to confuse the devil, who only entered through the back door.

We learned that it’s legal to spit in public – but only when you’ve seen a single crow. The sight of that one bird is bad luck, but spitting on the ground invites a second crow to join it. Unfortunately the governors in Halifax cottoned onto this belief and introduced a fine for spitting in public in their city, which was often referred to as the Lunenburg tax on account of who often ended up paying it!

Kerriann told us that flipping things is bad luck, as it mimics the action of a boat capsizing. That means eggs are always cooked ‘over easy’; food comes out of a can with a spoon instead of being turned upside down; and women serve freshly-baked bread by taking it straight from the oven, running a knife around and lifting it out.

These superstitions make sense when you remember this community revolved around the sea – a place full of unpredictability and danger. Sailors have always been renowned for their superstitious nature, but it’s fascinating to realise that many modern-day Lunenburgers still wholeheartedly believe in these things, and abide by them too.

Read more: traditions and superstitions in the South American mountains

[Photo by Kim Leuenberger]

The mysterious stars of St John’s Anglican Church

As darkness fell, we made our way slowly up Gallows Hill until we reached St John’s Anglican Church.

This Gothic building was the first church built in Lunenburg in 1754 and the second oldest Anglican church in Canada, but it was tragically set on fire by arsonists on Halloween Night, 2001. The precious stained glass windows had to be smashed to gain access to the church and attempt to fight the fire which ultimately destroyed half the building and all the contents within.

[Photo by Kim Leuenberger]

Inside, we stared up at a domed ceiling above the altar which was covered with stars. Kerriann told us that during the post-fire restoration (achieved by solely using salvaged wood from the wreckage), historians realised the spacing of the stars seemed somewhat strange – so they called in star experts. Eventually they realised it was the same constellation visible from Lunenburg on 24th December, the night Jesus was born.

Somehow this significant fact had slipped from history – but thanks to the fire, it came to light again.

[Photo by Kim Leuenberger]

The haunted graves of Hillcrest Cemetery

At the very top of Gallows Hill sits Hillcrest Cemetery, a sprawling plot of land where the oldest grave marker dates back to 1761, eight years after Lunenburg was established.

We approached the cemetery beneath the pale light of a watery moon, and I could feel the air of unease settle around the group. Being in such close proximity to a lot of very old graves felt rather vulnerable.

I stepped onto the damp grass, holding my lantern closer to my face – I didn’t want to trip over any gravestones and give myself a heart attack – but luckily Kerriann knew exactly where she was going. She picked an easy route between old slate gravestones with German names until she reached one surrounded by a wrought-iron fence. It was the grave of Sophia, a 14 year old girl who died of a broken heart.

While Kerriann told us the sad story of Sophia’s untimely death after she was accused of stealing $10, I looked furtively around at the neighbouring graves. Did Sophia still wander this patch of ground?

[Photo by Kim Leuenberger]

The basement ghost of Lunenburg Academy

The ‘Castle on the Hill’ is a massive, three-storey building which dates back to the 1890s and has housed the local primary school for centuries. It’s also just opposite Hillcrest Cemetery, meaning generations of children walked past these graves on their way to and from class.

Lunenburg is a landmark building for both historical and architectural reasons – it’s imposing enough just to look at – but as you’d expect in this town, it’s seriously haunted too.

The basement was nicknamed ‘The Dungeon’ by scared students, thanks to an evil feeling which pervaded the space and the rumour of a monster inhabiting one of the toilet stalls. Little boys were dared to enter alone, goading each other on despite the fear, while girls refused to go inside unless they were in pairs.

But the more compelling ghost story is about Sidney Kernickle, a school janitor who was such a strong spiritual force in the Academy that a ghost hunters show paid $50,000 for a local to show them around the building, eventually capturing an image of a face in one of the windows. When the image was circulated around Lunenburg, someone pulled out a yearbook from 1960 and identified Mr Kernickle!

[Photo by Kim Leuenberger]

As Kerriann told us about the ghost of Lunenburg Academy, I glanced over at a car parked in front of the building. There was a middle-aged man sitting in the car’s front seat: he was disarmingly still, and I wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing. Neither was the moody teen from our group, who slouched his way towards the car to investigate. I could see the tension in his shoulders as he approached, peering through the window to get a closer look.

I turned to Kim and whispered very quietly, “There’s a man in that car…” She jumped a mile in the air and everyone began to laugh, the ghostly tension dissipating for a moment.

But as we walked away from the dark red bricks of Lunenburg Academy which towered above us, I felt a chill run quickly down my spine. There were so many windows. Who knew if Sidney’s ghostly face was peering down at our little group as we walked away?

Info about Lunenburg Walking Tours

Lunenburg Walking Tours offers a selection of daily tours from June 1st to October 30th – ‘Essential Lunenburg’ at 10am & 2pm and ‘Haunted Lunenburg’ at 8.30pm. Their tours are also available year-round via reservation.

All the Lunenburg Walking Tours take about an hour and have the same prices:

Adult: $25

Youth: $15

Family: $75

I can personally attest to the quality of both these tours – we received complimentary tickets for the Essential Lunenburg tour, and loved it so much that we immediately paid for the Haunted Lunenburg tour that same evening!

Read more about my adventures in Canada here

Pin this article if you enjoyed it! 

NB: This trip was in partnership with Tourism Nova Scotia – but the ghost stories and haunted streets are all down to Lunenburg’s long-gone residents…

The post A Haunted Guide to Lunenburg, The Spookiest Town in Nova Scotia appeared first on Flora The Explorer.

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80+ I Love My Wife Quotes From Husband With Images

I Love My Wife Quotes : Don’t wait only for anniversaries, Valentine’s Day and birthdays to write a romantic quote for her. Make her feel like a queen by sending her sweet texts on a random day. If texting is not your thing, write something cute on a note or a greeting card. You can even post mushy and funny stuff on Facebook or Pinterest. We also have a great collection of I Love You Quotes. Better yet, tag her in the most awesome tweet you’ve sent out in a while. Regardless of how many years have passed by in your marriage, it is never too late to start laying your feelings bare. She might not say this to you, but inside every woman is a girl who longs to be wooed and pampered. Don’t take her for granted and show your wife that you are indeed, the loving husband that she imagined you to be.

I Love My Wife Quotes From Husband

1. “We’ve made beautiful promises to each other. The promises I have in store, just waiting to pour out of my heart, are even more special. I love you.” 2. “You’re the charger to my cell phone – I would be dead without you.” 3. “I am so blessed to have a life with my wife. She is always on my mind, in my heart and in my soul.” 4. “My love for you is enough to surround the whole world. My pretty wife, you’re my life forever and always.” 5. “Nothing in the world can replace the love of my life, my one, and true wife. I love you so much.” 6. “The day we took our vows until the day I die, I will love you more and more.” 7. “You know that our love means the world to me. I would do anything and everything to keep you happy.” 8. “Happiness was a mystery to me until the day that you came into my life like a shooting star.” 9. “A man is happy when he finds a true friend, but he is even happier when the true friend he finds is his wife.” 10. “No man finds success in life without having a good woman behind him along the way.” 11. “I would be a philosopher if a married a bad wife, but since I married you, I am simply a lover.” 12. “Husbands and wives have a relationship that even the closest of friends can never obtain.” 13. “The woman of my life, the mother of our children, there is no love that compares to the love I have for my wife.” 14. “My most spectacular achievement in my life was persuading my wife to marry me.” 15. “The one thing I love more than my wife is being my wife’s husband.” 16. “Love is ever growing, ever changing, but the one thing that will always remain true is that my love for my wife grows as the sky is blue.” 17. “Real men may not know how to show their feelings to their wife, but they always tell her that she is the one and only woman for them.” 18. “I may be old, I may be stubborn, but this stubbornness is what has allowed me to love you so uncontrollably throughout the years.” 19. “Years come and go like the seasons, but every year, I love you more than I ever thought was possible.” 20. “There are a million remedies in the world, and nothing cures my ills quite like my wife.”

21. “A good marriage requires a beautiful wife that is blind and a loving husband that is deaf – we are both.” 22. “Marriage has made me love like I never thought possible and thank God more than I ever did in the past.” 23. “Loneliness is something that neither of us will have to endure. We can remain silent yet laugh, smile and cry because our hearts are talking to each other.” 24. “If our lives were a ship, I would want to call it “FOREVER MINE” because there is no me without you.” 25. “My hair is going white, my teeth are falling out, but I am still the world’s luckiest man to have you as my wife.” 26. “Romance is having that one person in your world that will do anything for you at any time of the day and continue loving you no matter what. That is you – my everything.” 27. “Everything in the world was more dull and colorless when you weren’t in my life.” 28. “My wife has endured more than I ever thought possible. I owe her the happiness of the world.” 29. “My words to express my love for you will always fall short. All I know is that my life revolves around my love for you.” 30. “My imperfections have been made perfect by a wife that knows nothing else but how to love and care for me.” 31. “Hugs, kisses, smiles, and frowns are what we go through on a daily basis. I frown when you’re not around, hug and kiss you when I see you and smile when you’re on my mind. I love you, my wife.” 32. “I love my wife so much that I would give up my man cave any day to spend time with her.” 33. “Ups and downs are meant for other couples. The love we share is a journey that keeps getting better with every second that passes.” 34. “The sun goes up and the sun goes down, but my love for you will never burn out.” 35. “The burning embers of the sun will eventually die out and put the world into total darkness. Billions of years from now, my love will still be as strong for you as it is today.” 36. “Today is the best day I could have ever wished for because my wife is in my life.” 37. “Life is nothing without happiness and a beautiful life to remind you of all the good things in life.” 38. “My wife. I could laugh without you, but I would never let you cry alone.” 39. “Fun, loving, brave, beautiful, sexy – all of these words describe you, but none expresses the love I have in my heart for you.” 40. “There is no crime I would commit again besides stealing the love of my wife.”

  41. “I thought fairy tales would never come true until I met my princess of a wife.” 42. “Be kind, be gentle. These are the words taught to me by a loving wife.” 43. “Every man needs a wife that is honest with them and helps them grow into the man they’re supposed to become.” 44. “We’re not lucky in life; we take action. But, I find luck every day when I wake up to my wife.” 45. “A wife is a gift from God that grows with the love that she spills into a man’s life.” 46. “There is no taste sweeter than the lips of my wife. She is my everything, my all. She is the one I want to spend the rest of my life with.” 47. “Two crazy kids in love fell for each other and did the impossible: they turned into husband and wife. That is our life story.” 48. “There is no story more beautiful in life than finding your wife.” 49. “The stars in the sky sparkle bright for my wife. The sun in the sky beams down to clear away the night for my wife.” 50. “The world is not so bad when you share it with the one person you will never grow old and tired of. That is my wife; someone I never grow bored of and that teaches me compassion and love.” 51. “I thank God every day for all my past relationships. Other women threw me away so that my wife could find and pick me up to love forever.” 52. “Forever and a day is how long I could tell my wife how much I love her.” 53. “I could write a novel with random words that all express my love for my wife.” 54. “My wife, the only thing I love and adore more than you is our children – and bacon.” 55. “Your love, your care, your smile and your charm all make me at ease. I love you.” 56. “The storms and the clouds remind me that even on the worst day, my love for my wife shines brighter than any dark cloud.” 57. “The most precious treasure in my life is my wife.” 58. “All the gold in the world would never come close to the price I would put on my wife. There is no money or object more precious to me; she is priceless.” 59. “I laugh and thank God when I hear other men complain about their wives, while I get to go home to the perfect woman time and time again.” 60. “Women come and go when you’re younger, but my wife, she had me wrapped around her finger the moment she smiled at me.”

61. “My life has changed so much since our marriage. You helped me grow and taught me to love like I never thought was possible.” 62. “Respect is how I show my wife the love she deserves. I love and respect her more than I do myself.” 63. “You’re all that I will ever need – my wife, my lover, my world.” 64. “A true relationship is exactly what my wife and I share. We met as two imperfect people that became perfect together and never refused to give up on each other.” 65. “Loving you is an addiction that I will never be able to quit.” 66. “In love with my wife, the most beautiful person in my life.” 67. “Handwritten letters are the way to let my heart pour out to a woman, my wife, that expresses her love in so many ways that it’s impossible to count.” 68. “I believe that nothing in this world is 100% perfect until I think of my wife and the amazing love that we share for each other on a second-by-second basis.” 69. “Loving you is just like war. I went into battle thinking I would be okay, but I didn’t come back the same.” 70. “What makes a marriage good? Two people that love each other enough to become expert forgivers in life.” 71. “It is the person I love more than life itself that I would do anything for – you – my wife.” 72. “My eyes are filled with love that even the oceans can’t compare to when my wife looks deep into them.” 73. “My wife has been the never-ending rock that I lean against when I am tired, scared, upset and happy. No matter what, she has been there for me, and I will love her forever as a result.” 74. “Forever is a hard idea to swallow. Can you really love someone forever? I never thought I could until the day I met you.” 75. “There comes a time in every man’s life when he needs to wise up and realize that there will never be another woman in his life quite like his wife.” 76. “You’re the coffee to my day. When you smile, I get a jolt of energy that runs through my body like a bolt of lightning.” 77. “I never want you to be scared, unhappy or sad. The world is what we share together, and my love for you means that I will do everything I can to make you happy.” 78. “It’s not about the material things when you get married – none of that matters. What matters most is the love that you build together.” 79. “You came into my life like a speeding bullet and got lodged into my heart where you will remain forever.” 80. “When I look at my wife, I see a hope of a brighter future; a future that is void of fear and despair, and one that is filled with love from every angle.” 81. “Angels in heaven have fallen before – I know. My wife is simply out of this world.” 82. “My wife. I love you more with each breath I take and hope that I make you as happy as you make me every day of our lives.”