Kotes lives on a settlement near the north bank of Lake Morena, a two day walk into San Diego. The settlement consists of about thirty families, spread across three small valleys, plus assorted individuals, indigents and orphans.
Kotes is an orphan. She’s almost 15.
No one calls her Kotes, apart from Jester, who has permission. Everyone else uses her full name and title.
One of my comfort-zones, a literary tic if you like, is to take a well known story or myth and rewrite it from a different perspective.
My own take on the myth of Persephone is here. It never seemed to me that she was abducted, more that she was seduced, and that every year she goes willingly to the halls of shadows. And I thought it likely that Hades has upgraded from a chariot to a 7-Series.
It’s really cold tonight and snowing lightly. Still winter. I thought this story would be appropriate.
Summer before last I went down to look at William and Jane Morris’ Red House, in Bexleyheath. Made it there just before they closed for the day and spent an enjoyable hour wandering about. The house is quietly spectacular, the garden is lovely but, strangely, the Morris marital bedroom is very small.
I’ve written a few short stories based on the Morris-Burden-Rossetti love triangle; they were self-indulgent, exotic and, in Rossetti’s case, certifiable.
Here’s a view of the garden at Red House from just outside the Morris bedroom door.