PORCHWOOD: A Writer's Nook

notpulpcovers:

Hansel and Gretel Illustrated by Sheilah Beckett 1974

Ignore redhaired!Hansel, because Darius is NOT in this story.

Breadcrumbs!Katniss!!!!!!!!! :D

trippy41:

I’ve been working a few days on the fairytale challenge, and this banner. Just a small preview, which I should hopefully have done tomorrow. Based on The Legend of Oochigeas and the Invisible Boy

Deep in the valley by the Merrimac River, lived a tribe of peoples who were known to be proud and courageous and they lived relatively peacefully there for generations. In this village, were three sisters whose parents lived in the spirit world.  Because they were alone, the tribe, which was a thriving community, offered to feed the girls. The sisters, Euphemia, Primrose and Katniss, like their tribesmen, were proud, and arranged a trade of pottery for the meat they were provided. Over several years, as the sisters grew, they became the best pottery makers in the village.

In her family’s coarse wigwam, the humid heat of the waning summer day still made the air feel like fire on her skin. Katniss sat cross-legged while she cleaned her sisters’ pottery tools, chiseling at the dried clay with her father’s knife. Euphemia, her eldest sister, would be looking for these tools soon, and Katniss knew that a well-place slap on her ear would be the result if she cleaned indolently. Primrose, her next eldest sister, wouldn’t take kindly to family discord, and she would use her sharp tongue to admonish her.

Euphemia was touted and sought after in their tribe for her weaving skill and artistic skill, though unmarried still because of her rumored rough hand. Primrose was considered fine with her wit and rare yellow hair, though all young children in their tribe were frightened of her when she scolded them. Both were close in age and personalities and often used their smaller sister cruelly, when they remembered her at all. Katniss was considered plain, with her slight body and pointed nose. Her quiet disposition allowed her brazen sisters to use her for their advantage. Katniss didn’t dare complain, and worked with the quiet intensity that she had for all things.

Katniss lived a quiet life, despite her unfortunate upbringing. Her father had died during a hunt; a rock formation above where he stood, arrow poised to bring down a boar in his sights, had broken away and buried him forever. Tales were still told in the tribal council of his bravery. Katniss held the memory of her father deep within her heart, where no one else’s cruelty could touch it.

Her mother, the tribe healer, failed to heal her own heart. Alone in their wigwam during the mourning period, the Great Chief Haymitch found her too late. Katniss remembered the whispered tale amongst the women of the wife who turned her husband’s knife to herself to join him in the spirit world.

Katniss kept her father’s knife that slayed boars and slit wrists. And the Great Chief allowed it, for he pitied the small child. Hidden under her bedclothes, Katniss also kept her father’s bow and arrows.

Everyone in the tribe had a duty, a role in their small community. Euphemia, Primrose and even Katniss made pottery in exchange for the meat brought to them from the tribe’s hunters, in particular from Gale. Gale was the man of his wigwam and sat on the council in his father’s stead once he’d died on the same hunt that claimed Katniss’s father. When Katniss could slip away from her sisters, it was Gale who taught her to use her father’s bow. Katniss was small for her age, but she held the bow like she was born to do so.

But pottery must be made. Euphemia wove the wicker molds that Primrose formed the clay into. The sisters repeated tales they’d heard from the women of the tribe as they worked. Finally, it was Katniss who had to stoke the fire for the pottery to bake. And so they went, every day, giving their wares to the elderly woman who was in charge of trade in their tribe.

When Katniss was twelve and working silently at her task of baking the clay, the wind turned and a strong breeze flew through the fire.  The flames grew and expanded and a spark licked her face. She instinctively screamed and whipped her head away from the flames, but the wind blew even higher and her long braid caught fire, singing her scalp until her hair broke away.

While she healed, in agony, Katniss’s task was now cleaning after her sisters. Euphemia and Primrose, angered by losing Katniss’s work at the fire, teased and taunted their sister, calling her “the girl who was on fire,” or “the scarred one.” Katniss couldn’t go outside until the sun had completed its cycle and the moon was rising for the night. A tear that fell on her cheek burned her skin so badly, that she forced herself to cry no longer.

…TBC

This is going to be magnificent!!!!! I was hoping someone would write this prompt! :D