I wrote all four of these short stories during an intensive creative binge early in 1994. This was ended rather abruptly by the sudden and unexpected death of my father. I do intend to write more short stories eventually, and I would particularly like to expand on the "glaistig" series. Perhaps I'll write a whole heap of them and put them together as a book. Maybe.
Glaistig: I originally intended to write a vampire story, and it turned into this instead. One day I'll sit down and rewrite it, as I feel that the prose is a little clumsy; still, I think it's a pretty good yarn even as it is.
Pas de Deux: This follows on directly from "Glaistig" and is, I think, a much better story. It relates to a couple of ongoing themes in my life - the tension between the needs for independence versus intimacy (and the difficulty in balancing them); and the need to let go of those you love rather than clinging to them.
The Road to Summerdown: This one came about in an amusing way. I was driving interstate with a friend, and I made the observation that every bloody roadsign we saw seemed to point to Daylesford, regardless of the distance or direction. We played with the idea a bit, and this story came out of it.
Fiery Angels: This is probably my favourite of the short stories. It's actually about a friend of mine. Her name isn't Celia, and she saw extraterrestrials rather than fiery angels, but her father was the model for the man in this story. And no, she didn't get the "happy" ending that Celia did. She is still trying to deal with her father. I don't hate often or easily, but those who abuse folk who are unable to defend themselves get the full force of my venom. I hope this is reflected in the story.
In chronological order of writing, here they are:
Pavane in the Hall of Mirrors (October 1986) I wrote this when I was trying to sort out my head on a number of very major issues. I had been very emotionally repressed for a long time, and was trying to break through that with the assistance of my lover-at-the-time. We had a very strange and complex relationship with rather unusual dynamics, and this poem is an attempt to articulate this. Reading it always elicits a strong reaction within me, but I'm not sure how evident the point is to other readers.
Despair (January 1991) This is one of my blackest poems. I have at times had major "abandonment" issues; this was written at a time when that fear was realised in all it's dubious glory. As you may have already figured from other stuff on this website, I am polyamorous. For a year or so I was involved with someone who was very, very dear to me. I loved this person very deeply. However, because of my commitment to my primary partner, I was unable to give my lover what he wanted (monogamous marriage, little house with white picket fence etc etc.), and he left me to search for his monogamous ideal. It hurt bad. I almost died of it. This poem was the result.
Morialta (November 1993) On a slightly more upbeat note - this one was written as part of my magical training. Morialta is a national park near Adelaide. It has vertical cliffs, sweeping wild places, and is a very elemental, powerful location. I often feel that Morialta is aware in it's own right - that it is a very old entity with its own personality and strength. This poem is an attempt to describe what I feel when I reach out to that entity with my mind.
The Black Beast (January 1994) This poem describes what to me is the ultimate horror and the essence of all nightmares. It came about when one day, for no apparent reason, I flipped out completely. It seemed to me that the world was a very different place to the one I had always known, and I simply couldn't cope with that changed perspective. When rationality returned, I wrote this in attempt to organise my perceptions and deal with them.
Wall of Ice (1994, slightly modified 1999) This poem was originally composed in 1994 as an exercise in writing a Shakespearian style sonnet. However after it was written I noticed several experiences in my rather erratic love life that this poem described very closely. Since that time, experiences with another person who fitted very well in the general idiom of this particular piece encouraged me to modify it slightly. The new version reflects quite closely (although not exactly) the circumstances surrounding the conclusion of a rather unhappy relationship I had with a woman whose defenses defeated utterly any attempts I made to get close to her.
I thought I saw you (August 2001) I like the sonnet form a lot. This is another sonnet, in this case written for my partner Chris. It had been fermenting in the back of my mind for several months, and several abortive attempts to put it into words had utterly failed to articulate the emotions and images that I had been trying to express. And then one morning it burst full-formed from my brow like Athena, and I hastily scribbled it down. I think it was worth the wait.