Ned Hayes's Blog, page 141

"Salvius leads us by pointing at the distant hill. Far ahead is...

"Salvius leads us by pointing at the distant hill. Far ahead is the tiny shape of a building. I squint into the snow-blinding daylight. A manor house."

— from the novel Sinful Folk

"A life without books is possible, but senseless"

“A life without books is possible, but senseless”

- (via cityof-alicante)

"Once, I was hidden in an alder copse when I sensed her again,...

"Once, I was hidden in an alder copse when I sensed her again, that watcher in the woods. A woman, I could tell, by the muted whisper of her footsteps, sliding softly on rotten leaves and old mulch. There was a scent in the air when she was close, lavender and mint. I lifted Christian from his sleeping place and crept deeper into the woods, until I found a darker, hidden place. An old cedar, pungent branches circled like a fallen nest."

— from the novel Sinful Folk 

SinfulFolk.com

Photo: Enchanted Wood, Argyll, Scotland, photo via lvnd

"Go into yourself and see how deep the place is from which your life flows."

“Go into yourself and see how deep the place is from which your life flows.”

- Rainer Maria Rilke, ”Letters to a Young Poet,” translation by Stephen Mitchell (via frenchtwist)

"We are in the forest on the way to the deep stream beside the...

"We are in the forest on the way to the deep stream beside the alder copse. There a plover calls in the deep woodsy stillness, and then a pair of martins dart across the overgrown path. Through the trees, I can see the thick and fast-moving line of flowing water, a steep bank beneath my feet, and the purple loosestrife and meadowsweet of spring.

Nell smiles at me, her face shifting in the light of the beech leaves and the vines, the dappled light around us falling on shallows and deep pools alike, the water rushing always, without pause.”

— from the novel Sinful Folk

""I turn in my bedroll. Near at hand is Cole’s sleeping face....

""I turn in my bedroll. Near at hand is Cole’s sleeping face. His eyes are shut, and his breath comes in tiny gasps. In this half-light of early dawn, his cheeks are flushed with deep sleep…. I remember Cole and Christian as small lads, playing in the woods beside the stream. And Nell watched them for me. I remember her soft voice in the forest gloam, singing to me."

— from the novel Sinful Folk

SOURCE: du1cet (by alenalipatova)

"There is a faint fire guttering on the hearth at the other end...

"There is a faint fire guttering on the hearth at the other end of the room – light and warmth – and a great iron-bound door of wood that leads to other hallways in this Tower. On the other side are thin slits that open to the air, windows that show only the night’s blackness. Closer to me are the instruments of pain. Spikes and curved iron manacles. The long bed of the rack, and the wheel that makes it longer with every ratcheting notch."
— from the novel Sinful Folk

”Spring grew into summer, and the rhythm of my life...

     ”Spring grew into summer, and the rhythm of my life now included Nell. I carried Christian with me as I gathered sticks, piling branches into the bundles I would carry on my back to the village that night.

      Nell’s secret thyme beds and her mint were deep in the woods, out by the chuckling stream that disappeared underground. She danced in the sunlight and the shade.”

 

— from the forthcoming novel SINFUL FOLK

“Cold tears as salty as ocean spray wet my face. I wipe my...

“Cold tears as salty as ocean spray wet my face. I wipe my face with a handful of straw and look out on the floating ice. 

The day before my father died, my mother did something I still don’t understand. She took me out in our little fishing boat, out on the open water of the sea—the thrum and hiss of surf upon the shore behind us, the rhythm never ceasing.”

— from the novel Sinful Folk 

 

I lift my eyes to the distant moon that shines over our earthly...

I lift my eyes to the distant moon that shines over our earthly sphere. I stare around at the field in front of me, the seven-branched candlelabraum etched over the archway, the dark gray stones ranked together in rows, the brambles that have overgrown this secret shadowed place.

This is the closest I will ever come to finding my people.  

It is the last graveyard of my people in London.

— from the novel Sinful Folk