Sunday, 15 March 2015


Green 1

I, Geraldine Persnickety ask myself how I will make this string of green stones belong in the wardrobe of my fashion shoot. I look a the mottled faceted peas strung together escaped from their pods in exasperation. No clasp.
I green myself into a silk shift and tie the tassled low waist ribbon so it falls to the gossamer hanky hem and stare into the mirror. Is this not a perfect portrait of England's green and pleasant land. Inspiration strikes, I can wear the stones as a choker. I wrap them about my pale knock leaving the ends to hang low at the front and check the impression in the mirror again. Am I not beautiful? I will dazzle in the clam shell lights of the catwalk. They green and smoke a little from their pits of anonymity but they glimmer none the less.
Jaque enters the room again to check the final running order, the turnout of the models, as if we were horses in his stable. He is looking flustered, unsure of whether he is coming or going. He has been worse since his cigarette break and I wonder what he saw as he trod the path through the woods. He has greened about the gills and I am not sure if the slick of sweat is nerves over the arrival of the audience or opiate.
They are all out there, the Great and the Good, arriving in their chauffeured Rollers and Bentleys, stepping out of the darkened inrpteriors into the partially lit auditorium, rolls of money held tightly banded in pods at their pockets ready to honour their bets.
I prepare to step out onto the stage, visualising my shield of white light to protect me from the stripping gaze of those in the audience who would wish to see me laid bare on the central plinth, repeating my mantra with every facet-glint from my green choker 'I am beautiful'. But then I see her,there in the audience, the woman who would make the devil panic. Could I get a message backstage with a flutter of my fan and spread the word like the disciples, like a carrier pigeon?
She is here.

Green 2
Water greens the moss to life as it escapes the darkness of the cave where it is born of the earths depths unseen. It bubbles forth from the rock where only one side is rough, the other worn away to polish by centuries of liquid caress, no need to change the conditioner.
It rolls and boils smoothing its way over singing stones and gurgling gaps in the river bank winding its way to the mystical forest. Droplets of water clinging to moss, lichen, ferns, like a necklace of precious stones that a mermaid would wear to enhance her natural beauty. How many hues of green can there be? It seems infinite in all the shade ing of the seasons. And as the water weaves in around and through her journey does she remember her roots in the darkness of the earthen cave?
"Where are the caves" she sings," I have left them for the light. I have no need of darkness. I have life and a journey ahead of me. I shall be lifted to the heavens in the glow of the sun's rays. Can't you see I have come from antiquity and will go on to eternity. Come with me, I will carry you"

The copyright of these posts belongs to Holly Khan

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