Anne Louise Averyさんのイラストまとめ

10th November & she walks at first light to St Mary's. Her birthday & the light is cream & full of angels. The church feels damp & old, but a trail of bright berries leads to the chancel, where he sits, exhausted, in his great coat holding an apple cake flaming with candles.

In 1862, a mermaid dwelt in the calm, green waters of the Helford River. One day, she fell in love with a kind young lawyer. At Mawnam church next Sunday, she slipped sealie-skin for spun silk & charmed first his sisters, then him, whom she married in London the very next month.

London, 1894. An evening cape for November, a thrice-folded winter poppy, rustling with layers of dark petals, & the cab rattles through the glittering streets of London, down Shaftesbury Avenue & the Strand. Her baby's at home, with his nurse, the mud of Ypres still years away.

Bjørgvin, November 1865. The Northern Lights are dancing in the sky, refracting & unfurling over the mountains & the islands. They are watching in the dark from the roof, eating cloudberries & cream. Nothing is small nothing is great – there are Worlds within us, he says.

A silvered bat necklace for Hallowtide, for thinning light in beech woods at dusk, for rough-carved love poems in peeling bark, for muddy baskets of tumbled death-caps & destroying angels, for waiting for brisk footsteps in the darkening lane, footsteps which never come.

Cumbria, 1391. The last wolf in England felt desperately alone. He lived in the thorn woods at Humphrey Head & his one friend was a kind girl who gave him bacon & buttery scones. When he was killed & his soul flew over the sea, he howled her name to the dying sun, to the waves.

A young man, tangled hair, elf-stolen grandson of an earl, skims stones at Yarrow Water, a clear-eyed girl by his side. Next night, a storm of silvered hooves on the forest path & he tumbles back, pulled swift from his white mare into the bright fiddles & ale of our stormy world.

St Ursula's day & up in the snow drifts a bear is struggling. On his back is strapped a great basket of rye bread, black violets, tea in a silver pot, silk dresses, the finest chocolates from Tromsø. He must not let her down, he must reach her no matter what. And on he presses.

Once, a luminous girl became exhausted by this stormy world. She went to Dorset for a sea-cure. On the lashed shingle beach, she came across a dragon as disillusioned as her. They became firm friends, he returned to Kensington as her amanuensis & all was flamed & vast once more.

Once, there lived a little macaque with a taste for flowers, whose family were stolen from her. She put on a breastplate of iron & traveled far from her forests & gathered a great army of macaques & they stormed the cold metal rooms of drip-pain & rescued every. last. soul. back.