FABLE LITERARY ZINE INDEPENDENT UK PUBLISHING CONTACT FOR EDITOR HOLLIE FURNISS@HOTMAIL.CO.UK
ALL ARTWORK UNLESS STATED IS BY HOLLIE FURNISS. All WRITING IS BY HOLLIE FURNISS. THE RETELLING OF THE BEARSKINNER IS BASED ON A BROTHER’S GRIMM TALE. CONTRIBUTERS FOR ISSUE 1ARE: LIAM SMITH FOR ‘TWIGS’ PAGE 2 ‘SKULL’ PAGE 20 AND ‘MOOSE HEAD’ PAGE 21
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THE INTRODUCTION
‘We tell ourselves stories in order to live.’ - Joan Didion, The White Album When I came across this quote, it got me thinking how integral stories are to our everyday life. If you look back decades ago, before television, before radio, even before the light bulb, what we did have was words - fairytales, fables, fantasies and folklore, tales of faraway lands, mythical creatures, fictitious plots, heroic heroines and ghastly villains, things that could only exist on the pages of paper and the thoughts in our heads. Still they continue to escape us from our mundane rituals and painful realities, they steal our souls, break our hearts and change our lives. Spoken aloud or read as a whisper, no story can be an untold story. They feed our desires, take us to places unknown and unforgettable. A story has no bounds. A story has no limits. A story is brewing in the pit of your stomach as you read this. We all have them, now it is time to share.
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THE BEARSKINNER A Brother’s Grimm story retold by Hollie Furniss as poetry
‘They say that when a man gives up hope The devil walks at his side – A soldier marched through a dark Wood and he did not march alone.’
Chapter 1. Cold nipped at the soldier’s fingers As he ambled through the trees, His clothes were rags on his back, And tonight he would sleep hungry. No longer a soldier at war, As he marched in the black. In the darkness he heard a crack The wind howled, the moon shone, A blue hue across the woodland, Out stepped the devil in green. The soldier stood silent and still, The devil stretched out his hand.
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Chapter 2. The devil with one hoof drew close ‘You are hungry and cold friend,’ He knew who he was, eyes like coal, He listened to his proposal, ‘I can offer you a fortune, For a chance to own your soul.’ The moon in the sky grew whole ‘Unless you’re afraid’ he said, ‘I don’t fear’ - the devil was smart, He pointed into the darkness, ‘Kill that bear’ his eyes gleaming fierce, Bang. The bullet pierced its heart. The soldier lowered his rifle ‘For the next seven years, You shall have endless gold, if you, Break my rules then your soul is mine,’ ‘What are the rules?’ hushed the man, ‘Skin the bear’ a knife he drew. The bear’s skin peeled like a peach ‘You will be called Bearskinner, ‘You will walk earth clad in this skin, You cannot wash or cut your hair, Speak of our deal or pray to God, And you cannot kill yourself, For seven years, or I win. In the bearskin is a pocket, It will always flow with gold,’ The devil draped the skin on him, In the fur he searched for it, He felt a pile of shinning gold. ‘If you break the deal I have set, Remember that your soul is mine. Do you accept?’ spoke the dead, ‘I do’ whispered the soldier. That night the soldier ate roast duck, And slept in a clean white bed.
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Chapter 3. So began the first year of wealth The soldier had all he wanted, Trinkets and treasures, he ate, drank, His vast wealth opened doors for him, Even though he noticed that the, Bearskin grew dirty and stank, During the second year he changed He no longer looked like man, But a bear with claws and beard, Lice lived in his fur, itched his skin, Locals laughed at his appearance, His image disappeared. By the third year he was no-more Like a bear but a monster, The fur rotted over his skin, People feared him and would flee, Until he showed his heaped gold, Then people’s thoughts would spin. He could not end his suffering The devil would get his soul, A dream haunted him, where he would, Drown in the river and be free, Night after night he dreamt this, but, The wager he understood.
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Chapter 4. One gloomy night at the river He stared at the black water, Feeling the urge to say a pray, Under the bridge that he stood on, He heard the cry of a woman, He let the sound lead his way. Under a bridge he saw her alone With a baby in her arms, The cold woman stared with unease, She tried to flee but was too weak, ‘Do not be afraid’ he murmured, ‘I have money. Take it please.’ The broke woman was too afraid She shuddered at the wind’s bite, ‘Here’ the Bearskinner threw his gold, More gold than she needed landed, She crept forward and picked them up, She would no more be so cold, ‘Take every last piece’ he shouted ‘It is no good to me now, ‘God bless you!’ the woman did bore, ‘Pray for me!’ he pleaded loudly, He knew that he could now live by, Giving the gold to the poor. Maggots crawled in his fur, he stank The soldier was foul with rot, But he was happier than ever, He gave his gold to the poor now, And the city blessed him for it, He was changed forever.
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Chapter 5. No longer did the beast dream sin, But of butterflies circling, Flying, dancing all around, pretty, Making a cloak of bright colours, He knew that the kind butterflies, Were the prayers from the city.
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Chapter 6. The fourth year came for Bearskinner And he came upon a man, Who’d played all his money away, ‘I have lost all I own and more, I will be imprisoned’ he wept, ‘I will pay’ and the soldier gave, ‘All I ask is that you pray’. The man who couldn’t understand Such kind generosity, Said, ‘I will repay you somehow,’ The broken man had three daughters, He explained that one would wed him, The soldier took his first bow. His scabbed skin sweated from the nerves The man brought him to his home, There awaited his three sweet girls, The young girl feared Bearskinner, The eldest mocked and yet still the, Middle girl’s eyes shone like pearls, The girl was close enough to smell ‘I believe your heart is good, I will marry you’ her voice soft, The sisters couldn’t believe it, And still the girl stood close to him, Her sweet scent lingered and waft, The soldier broke a golden ring, From his flowing fur pocket, ‘One half for you and one for me, When I return in three years time, I shall come back for you’ he breathed, He would wait ‘til he was free.
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Chapter 7. Three years passed for the Bearskinner During, he gave away gold, The poor of the city was saved, The Bearskinner all along thought, Of the sweet girl and her promise, Her voice, eyes and scent he craved, At last his seven years were up He went back to the woodland, The winter cold formed misty air, The bear’s skull laid on the ground, Bearskinner waited, soon he came, The devil stared at the bear. ‘I did not break our deal devil’ And the seven years are up,’ The devil lowered his stern head, ‘Your soul is your own’ he snapped, The words like poison in his mouth, ‘Now you will clean me’ he said. The devil was made to wash him Cut his hair and trim his nails, Shave his beard and rid him of pain, The devil hated every bit, The Bearskinner was but no-more, He was now a man again. The devil turned to leave him ‘Give me your green coat’ he said, The devil handed it to him, His eyes burning with defiance, Then disappeared into mist, The man left singing a hymn.
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Chapter 8. The man who was no longer a bear And no more a lost soldier, Bought new clothes and brushed his short hair, He went back to the daughter’s house, No-one recognised him and so, They treat him with love and care, Except the middle girl who stood Analysing this new man, The other girls fussed over much, ‘She’s waiting for her beast’s return, An ugly thing,’ the eldest said, He felt the middle girl’s touch. ‘Is the man ugly?’ he asked her ‘His eyes aren’t, they are like yours,’ The man smiled and showed the ring, ‘Do you still have the other half?’ The other girl’s looked in envy, The truth hurt like a bee sting. The middle girl showed the other half ‘I waited for your return’, The man delighted kneeled low, ‘Will you marry me?’ ‘Yes’ she said, He would be happy forever, That at least he did now know.
The pair married and lived wealthy The man’s previous fortune, Continued to help the town’s poor, And now the sister’s did revel, The happy man, never again, Did deal with the devil.
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FABLE INTERVIEW
fable interview Rebecca Atherton Fable caught up with Rebecca Atherton, who was the founder of Inside Out Art and Literary zine. In this interview we get to know Rebecca and her thoughts from the inside out... Since graduating from University, you have dabbled in an array of jobs from web design to journalism to poetry, but which was your favourite one? Writing and illustration: basically being an artist in any form. I love embroidery, tatting and knitting too: the old crafts. I spend a lot of time experimenting and then combining different mediums, both modern and old: such as stitching on top of drawings and paintings, illustrating stories and poems, and adding poetry to needlecraft, etc. Having fun... Allowing myself to be free... to just create whatever I want to, whatever feels right. Honouring the ethos behind Inside Out. What made you start Inside Out? The desire to share all that I had gained and learnt with others. Using art as a means for self-development, for emotional well-being and for healing had, and still has, been an invaluable tool for me. I wanted to reach out and to connect with other individuals, to help them. This was the reason behind Inside Out and where the idea initially came from. It was natural progression for me really from illustration and design and writing, and also from journalism, bringing it all together into one neat box; putting all of my skills to use at once, so to speak. In it’s brief but wonderful life, what were your highlights from the magazine? Meeting a diverse array of people. Receiving positive feedback from those I had helped. Taking on numerous interns and returning the favour that my first editor gave to me, that of a foot in the door and a step on the ladder. Going to student exhibitions. Visiting mental health charities and conducting workshops with patients and other disadvantaged individuals . Attending workshops given by other professionals. Interviewing well-known and highly successful writers and artists. I especially liked Andrew Motion: he was such a gentleman. And Blake Morrison was lovely too. I still have the packet of tissues that he gave me to take to the film adaptation of his book: “and when did you last see your father”. I also have a vintage postcard that Andrew Motion sent me as a thank you. And of course signed copies of all of their books. Some poetry collections too. A nice ensemble and one I adore. How did you come to the decision of ending the publication? With great difficulty and a heavy heart. It ran out of money. I ran out of savings. I was also ill, overworked and desperately in need of some time off, on the verge of a breakdown, and this was something the magazine wouldn’t and couldn’t allow me. It was pretty full on. I rarely came up for air. Weekends ceased to exist. So, a combination of financial and health issues really. It took me six months to come to a decision, and a lot longer to completely walk away, but I had to do it and, although I do still miss it from time to time, I am glad for it now. It has allowed me to return to my own creativity, something not previously permitted due to the workload and tight schedule. I tried to pass Inside Out on to someone else. Mind were actually interested at one point. But in the end it just didn’t work out and I put it to bed. Maybe one day I will return to it, or else be contacted by someone with a similar passion and belief who wants to relaunch it without me? I hope so. It would be sad if it simply died there. There is a definite gap in the market and it is yet to be filled.
What is your career at the moment? A writer and an artist and a workshop facilitator. Oh, and also a freelance literary consultant. I proofread and copy edit and copywrite. Mainly for businesses, European ones, and also for students. I get lots of dissertations sent to me. The occassional novel too, although there is little money in that as most writers, like artists, are short of cash. I am planning on doing an MA or a Diploma in Transpersonal Art Therapy this year here in Sydney and then, once qualified, practicing that. The eventual goal is to run holistic retreats, creatively focused, offering a peaceful environment for individuals to escape to; a place where they can receive a variety of different therapies (Writing Therapy, Poetry Therapy, Journal Therapy, Art Therapy, Bibliotherapy, Traditional Analysis, and NLP and Hypnosis), and also exercise their creative muscles, blowing the corporate cobwebs away. I think your illustrations are so fun and imaginative: who and what is your inspiration? My inspiration is myself, and my dreams and my life. I simply pick up the pen, or my chosen medium for the day, whatever that is, and just allow what wants to be given a voice to come out. I rarely plan. I seldom think about what I want to draw or paint in advance. Unless, of course, it is for a commission and then that is different, I am compelled to. My torn paper pen and ink collages are quite popular, as are my pet portraits. I am influenced a lot by mythology and archetypes, and also by fairy tales, of the dark and twisty variety – think Grimm and Perrault and, more recently, Burton. Stories, basically, whether rooted in our culture, our heads or our lives. What is your favourite magazine and why? Amelia’s Magazine, because it is beautiful and filled with love. If you haven’t seen a copy, I would highly recommend it; and if you can afford to buy the back issues, do. It will be worth something one day, of that I have no doubt. Sadly, it fell victim to the same plight as me, but managed to produce a good ten issues beforehand, if I remember correctly. It may have relaunched? I know there were whispers in the pipeline... Finally, I would love to know what your favourite story/fairytale is? Hmmm... That’s a hard one. I love Snow White and Cinderella. But they’re clichés. Everyone loves them. I think what works best for me is when another author rewrites them ame gives them a modern take, a la Gregory Maguire and his trilogy “Wicked”, based on “The Wizard of Oz”. Angela Carter wrote a wonderful book of fairytales too, called “Burning your Boats”. It’s very dark. I would rate it as one of my favourite collections of shorts, and her my favourite author to boot. She’s great, and her death a tragic loss to the literary world. I like Juliet Mariller as well, who specialises in fantasy fiction, tales based around a strong female protagonist, rooted in nature and myth. Her Sevenwaters’ Series is a particular favourite of mine. And she is a wonderful woman too: happy to offer advice, very helpful. Visit Rebecca’s website here to see some of her beautiful artwork: www.myinsideout.co.uk 21
THE END
Fable loves storytelling, for the majority it is
something fun and exciting to engage with but for the small part it is also something far more significant. Before you put down this zine and go about your day just take a few seconds to think about this; everything made that is part of our very existence once started life out as a concept, a vision and a fixation of one’s imagination. Our lives and the things in it all have a story, the chair you sit on, the cup you drink your tea out of and the bed you sleep in at night. All of it has gone through some sort of journey, just like you and I. Storytelling isn’t something restricted to bedtime reads and educational proposes, it goes beyond that. Storytelling is something intrinsic to our lives, contributing to our survival and humanity. Whether you’re interested in the power of words or not, even at this moment you are living out your very own story.
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Fable asked the general public about their views on storytelling and its importance, here are some of our favourites ‘Story telling has a feeling of perfection, which makes it seem more attainable. That of course depends on the story.’ ‘Every memory or inspiration is in some way storytelling, whether you’re listening or telling.’ ‘It connects one generation to the next.’ ‘Life would be boring without it; I enjoy telling a story as much as listening or reading other peoples.’ ‘Too much reality can be stressful - reading a good story and getting away from everything can be very soothing.’ ‘It’s a form of escapism - without story telling you would not have books or films.’ ‘It allows (us) to have hope, determination and belief.’ ‘It’s how we connect with people and communicate, every person has their own story to tell, and a person can tell the same story so differently. It’s interesting and a great way to learn new things.’ WE HOPE YOU ENJOYED THE FIRST EDITION OF FABLE, PLEASE JOIN IN THE CONVERSATION OF STORYTELLING YOURSELF ON TWITTER OR FACEBOOK @FABLEZINE
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