Author: Carol J Forrester

Beyond The Past And After Hours #Prosery

‘He existed once you know?’ Janet turned from her monitor, squinted into the gloom. ‘Who now?’ she asked. The hands on the wall clock glowed faintly. Half-seven, closing time was long past and James was still bent over the archive’s central table. ‘This,’ he said, and circled his hand over the papers in front of him, ‘this all belonged to someone who existed. Now all that’s left to mark his existence are cargo lists, household receipts, and half a letter to his land agent.’ ‘That’s more than some have,’ Janet shrugged. ‘But how can someone be boiled down to so little? We look at him through the wrong end of the long telescope of time and know less than was once understood.’ ‘We work with what we have.’ ‘But it’s not enough!’ ‘It must be. We can’t turn back time, only save what remains.’   I’ve spent most of today going through history books, journals, and archive online materials to write a post about the history of witchcraft in Shropshire, so I’m feeling a little …

Shropshire Witches – Witchcraft In The Early Modern Era

Researching witchcraft in Shropshire is similar to panning for gold when the river has run dry. These days, there is a wealth of information regarding the ‘European Witch Crazes’ of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, but Shropshire is rarely mentioned. Even when Shropshire does come up, it’s for no more than a sentence or two. This lack of history can perhaps be accredited to the narrowness of the field of study. Between 1563 and 1736, less than 500 executions were carried out for the crime of witchcraft in England.1 Europe on the other hand saw 100,000 individuals tried and less than 50,000 put to death.2 Accusations of witchcraft also rarely saw just one person implicated, resulting in numerous ‘suspects’ popping up once once the accused was questions. This resulted in localised pockets of witches being discovered in certain towns and villages, rather than nationwide witch hunts. It should perhaps reassure Salopians that there is so little to find regarding the history of witches in our county, and that the ‘historical accounts’ we do have are …

Gods Out Of Men – #FlashFiction

When the coffee runs out, she drinks tea instead. It’s bad, overly floral and cloying. She drinks it anyway, hips bumped up against the chipboard kitchen counters, sink at her back, eyes on the peeling desk on the other side of the cabin. Uploading… 65% The screen on the computer flickers for a second before steadying. Uploading… 66% She sips the tea, holds the liquid in her mouth and grimaces when she swallows. Uploading… 66% It will be another hour at least before the system is up and running. Until then she will have to be patient. The screen flickers again, blanks out temporarily. She holds her breath. Uploading… 67% She keeps the breath in her lungs until they burn. Uploading… 67% She lets it out slowly, carefully, so not to break the internet connection’s concentration. The screen stays clear and she closes her eyes. It would be easier if she could leave the system to do its thing and come back when the download was complete. Outside was not an option though. Not even …

SHOP

Carol J Forrester lives in Cheshire with her husband and their fish. She wanted a dog, she got koi instead. After growing up in the glorious greenery of North Shropshire, and spending her childhood exploring the countryside around her parents’ farm, she moved to Bath for university, then to Crewe to live and work. ‘It’s All In the Blood’ is her first full poetry collection, and covers topics such as family, ancestry, feminism, mythology, mental health, and how a rural background can shape you as a person. “These deftly written poems cover all aspects of life in a farming family from the hardships of lambing and the contradictions of relationships, to a world of Bic razors, children’s games and old teapots. The poems are vivid and confidently crafted, including effective use of myths and legends which counter the muddy boots of everyday survival. A most promising debut collection.” Helen Kay The Poultry Lover’s Guide to Poetry’ (Indigo Dreams), ‘This Lexia & Other Languages’ (V. Press) A bold, brutally honest and dazzling debut collection that insists …

Poetry Inspiration – Ain’t I A Mug

If you look under the ‘poetry’ tag on the WordPress reader, you’ll find more posts than you can shake a stick at. (Or read in a lifetime if I’m honest.) A lot of it is personal poetry, and if you start reading through it, a lot of it uses the same sort of language and the same sort of imagery. Anyone who has written poetry knows that when you start out it’s very easy to write poems designed to ‘sound poetic’. The subject of your poem can quite often get lost in the writing of it. Finding your voice is the most important, and the most difficult part of being a writer. No one picks up a pen for the first time and magically finds it. Part of the way I found my own voice was through poetry workshops and lectures. So for those of you who are interested I thought I’d share one of the writing exercises I’ve scoffed at, and then found quite useful, in the past. Find an object immediately to your …

Tangle Deep

‘You have a twig,’ he saysfingers already pickingat the knots and bramblesthorned in her hair.‘There’s a leaf caught,’powdery fragile in the blonde,whispers of skeleton,rib rack of split ends.‘Let me get that for you,’sharp syllables, blunt nails, loose strands and dandelion saprooted out from the scalp.‘Isn’t that better now,’no question, answer indisputable,pretty plastic petals painted whitefor the mirror to show. I’m in love with the piece of art above, so much so that I’m planning on buying a print of it after payday. Though I’m a little torn between this one and her piece ‘Sisters’. I’ll have to pick one and maybe allow myself a second at Christmas.

My Lady Sky

She traces after the sun, runs her hand along an arc of warmth left behind. Scatters clouds into fragments, dips into the depth of herself, the swell of an expanse unmeasured, often mistaken for shallow by craned necked mouths staring at her empty fullness. Written for tonight’s Quadrille prompt where the word was ‘sky’. Not sure what I’ve written exactly, but it’s forty-four words so we’re going with it.

September Evening #DVersePoetic

Summer has left the door outside open, is drinking mulled wine on the patio, leaving petals by her feet one by one. Too focused on the sun’s slow set to notice exchanging looks and Night’s arrival its cloak across its shoulders slipping, gold stars sewn like seeds on soil, for Summer’s goose-pricked shoulders brass tanned and shivering. There were a few options for last night’s DVerse Poets ‘Poetics’ Prompt. I chose to write a poem by taking one of the lines provided (Summer is leaving too exchanging its gold for brass) and using each word as the starting word for each line of my own poem. The last two lines were the trickiest to finalise, but after a bit of playing around I managed to come up with a piece that I was happy enough to post.