a writing from tudorstuart


England 1610 , my great great great great great great grandmother Gloriana made a living as a card girl at the local jousting matches . She was madly in love with her horse, Althalos.

Her job entailed parading up and down the circuit before each joust carrying a placard made of woven silk paper displaying the next contestants names. She enjoyed this job immensely and took great pride in it and all the social obligations that came with it.

Her father disapproved of this profession and sent her from the family castle to live in the stables. This is where she bonded with Althalos and spent many nights stroking his tail and speaking of countries she wished to visit.

One day whilst walking in the woods she was startled by a fox which proceeded to tell her of a murder that had taken place the night before deep in the woods near the lake. Scared, but also intrigued she made her way through the valley and came upon the lake. The lake was vast and the mist that enveloped it made it difficult to see. Gloriana silently sat at the edge and pondered her life.

Feeling a deep sorrow well up inside her heart, she fell to her knees and began drinking the water from the lake. Gloriana swallowed as much as she could , filling up her soul with the sweet liquid until she felt there was no more room left in her bottomless stomach. Suddenly she sat back on her knees and screamed `All my life has been spent entertaining others !`.

It was then she decided to stop being a card girl and become a nun. Just as this moment occurred the fox lept out from the bushes and tore her throat out, spilling her crimson blood across the lakes' edge. She died peacefully almost surrendering herself to her fate, knowing she was now at one with her god.

This was no ordinary fox, as he gathered all the spirits of the woods and lake to make her whole again, but this time she was to be known as Sara.

She rose from the edge of the lake resplendent in her new body and gowns and set forth into the mountains, never to be seen again.

this text is by tudorstuart, a sydney based artist and dear friend of mine.

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