Behind the Fiction: White Horses - Ghosts! Legends! Ships!

I wrote “White Horses” for one of the Flash! Friday competitions. If you haven’t read it, it’s posted below, with a look at the inspiration behind the story underneath.

The prompt - Miranda — The Tempest. Painting by John William Waterhouse, 1916. Public domain photo

White Horses

Lenie gazed at the waves and imagined Adriaan beside her. In one hand she grasped her hair; broken red strands caught on her wedding ring. In the other she clutched a gold locket her mother found after a tempest ripped apart a merchant ship.

She wanted to believe in happy endings. Like her Adriaan who would become a doctor after almost dying in a shipwreck as a child. Like the tall man on a horse riding into the waves to save those drowning amidst a wreck in roiling waves while clouds poured like devil’s smoke down the mountains.

But other endings also needed remembering.

Like those who nursed broken survivors while the rider grew weary and floundered unseen.

Like brine stinging mortal wounds.

Like shallow graves in fine sand.

Like a body never recovered.

Like those once saved returning to the sea.

Like a figure on horseback dragging Adriaan’s ship beneath the waves.

Like the briny taste of tears.

#454982721 / gettyimages.com

Behind the Scenes

I really enjoyed putting some local flavour into this story. I didn’t really know where it was going at first, but I knew I wanted to set it on the South African coast without the story sounding too locked in time and place.

Regarding the shipwreck, my first thoughts were of the book Caliban’s Shore: The Wreck of the Grosvenor and the Strange Fate of HerSurvivors by Stephen Taylor and a description of a shipwreck in DaleneMathee’s Kringe in ’n bos (available in English as Circles in a Forest), but then my brain shifted to the folktale of Van Hunks and the Devil smoking on top of Table Mountain. Their smoke, so the legend goes, causes the blanket of cloud on the mountain. From there it wasn’t a far jump (at least in my mind’s filing cabinet) to a folk hero called Wolraad Woltemade who died saving people from a shipwreck. Wolraad really did ride his horse into the waves to a wreck and perished after saving a number of people.

I didn’t want to include a ghost ship and immediately have the “Flying Dutchman” legend to contend with, so I thought about another way in which a ghost could sink a ship. Okay, and I couldn’t resist having a ghost on a ghost horse sinking ships. I also gave the characters Afrikaans names to link with the legends.

Ps. Also check out Dalene Matthee’s other works (as far as I know they’ve all been translated into various languages). And if you’re ever lucky enough to visit the Garden Route, be sure to go and have a walk in the Knysna Forest. It is truly magnificent.

Flash Fiction: White Horses

This was written for the 25 July Flash! Friday competition. The prompt was “freedom” and Waterhouse’s painting.

White Horses

Lenie gazed at the waves and imagined Adriaan beside her. In one hand she grasped her hair; broken red strands caught on her wedding ring. In the other she clutched a gold locket her mother found after a tempest ripped apart a merchant ship.

She wanted to believe in happy endings.  Like her Adriaan who would become a doctor after almost dying in a shipwreck as a child.  Like the tall man on a horse riding into the waves to free those drowning amidst a wreck in roiling waves while clouds poured like devil’s smoke down the mountains.

But other endings also needed remembering.

Like those who nursed broken survivors while the rider grew weary and floundered unseen.

Like brine stinging mortal wounds.

Like shallow graves in fine sand.

Like a body never recovered. 

Like those once saved returning to the sea.

Like a figure trapped on horseback dragging Adriaan’s ship beneath the waves.

Like the briny taste of tears.

Miranda — The Tempest. Painting by John William Waterhouse, 1916. Public domain photo    

Legends of Airthai – The Tellerassar’s Cry

Welcome to the first Worldbuilding Wednesday of 2013. This legend from the world of Airthai is about the race of shape-shifters called the Tellerassar. To read more about the Tellerassar, the kingdom of Guldargan, and king Markus, follow the links at the bottom of the post.

Why the Tellerassar’s Cry is so Mournful

Photo by Sias van Schalkwyk

It all happened on the day on which Ikaira, fleeing the Kingdom of Guldargan with his people, was trapped in a gorge near the Great River, which flows across the breadth of the Midlands of Airthai. A clear river flowed from crevices at the far end of the gorge, the water cutting deep into the light coloured rock as it rushed towards the Great River. Ikaira realized that there was no way for his followers to escape and that they would all surely perish at the hand of King Markus’ soldiers who were by this time driven mad with bloodlust for their hunted quarry. He called out to the Creator, begging him to save his people from Markus’ wrath.

They watched with horror as the soldiers approached, and some of Ikaira’s followers tried to climb up the steep sides of the gorge, but all slid on smooth boulders or loose rocks and fell to the bottom with horrible cries. Again Ikaira prayed and begged, joined by his people, for they saw their deaths approach.

Even as they pushed the women and children to the back of the group a mist began to form around them. The strange mist rose from the deep waters, becoming thicker and thicker as it rose until the group was hidden from sight. Each of Ikaira’s followers felt a strangeness overcome them as their bodies changed and moulded to the forms of eagles.  

"Morning Mist" by Cbcs

Ikaira and his followers beat their wings and soared into the sky. But the archers among the soldiers of Markus nocked their barbed arrows and shot a volley towards the mist and, when the eagles rose above the mist, another volley was ordered.

Only six of Ikaira’s followers were hit, but among them was Alaila – the young woman Ikaira dearly loved and to whom he was engaged. With a shriek she fell from the sky, turning back into her human form. Ikaira saw her blue-clothed form disappear into the fog above the river.

Driven back from the river by the soldier’s arrows, Ikaira’s followers headed north at the command of his call – the language that they all could now understand. But Ikaira stayed behind, landing on a tree on the edge of the cliff, his heart broken in countless pieces and unable to understand why he had been saved and Alaila had not. When his breast could contain the grief no longer, he threw his head back and shouted her name to the heavens even as his voice was wrecked with sobs. This mournful call became the cry of all Tellerassar.

"Water and Rocks" by Stephen O'Neill

And to this day the Tellerassar’s cry as it flies above rivers and lakes haunts all those who hear it. It is even said by some that Ikaira still lives on in a ghostly form, always returning to the gorge and the river where Alaila perished, still seeker his love. Only when he at last finds her would his soul finally be at rest.

A real fish eagle Tellerassar...

In the next Worldbuilding Wednesday: The Daughters of Alaila

More Worldbuilding:

• The Tellerassar
• Guldargan and the Shape-shifters