Thoses short stories have been written for a Halloween Book, hand-made, screen-printed at the Minesweeper (London) You can find it on Les Éditions Solstices
was a pirate
who didn't believe
nor in God nor in the
he was smart & merciless
fierce as a beast
strong as a stone
under the caribbean sun
slapped by the salted sea
he never loved
nor did he ever hate
he lived a hundred years
and when he died
cos he was not loved nor hated
nor by God nor by the Devil
In heaven he was not welcomed
in hell he was not accepted
so he wanders between the worlds
with an emplied pumpkin as a head
and a candle as a soul.
The little girl & the witch
Once upon a time, there was
a very little & very pretty girl
loved by her dad & her mum.
As she liked to pluck
flowers in the forest, her mum
sent her before lunch,
and the very little pretty girl
went into the forest singing
to pick and pluck mushrooms
& flowers. But the path
behind her steps vanished
and soon she was very lost.
The lost little girl walked a lot in the forest
and finally found an old mansion.
She knocked on the door and the door
opened. A witch invited her to
a dinner with dwarves & pixies
& dark fairies singing & dancing
around. She ate well & she was enjoying
& when we announced desert,
Desert was her.
There was a very kind, simple & shy man. He used to give candies to the children who knocked at his door for Halloween.
He loved children a lot.
He fancied to taste their flesh, to suck their bones. But, as he was so kind, so simple & so shy, he never never never dared to touch them.
But, one year, he had an idea, a terrible idea : making chocolates for children, filled with tiny razor blades. He was not brave enough to cut their throats himself (desire is hard to join)
and when children knocked at his door for Halloween,
and ate the chocolates,
they had their throats slashed. under the greedy face of the very kind, simple & shy man.
La Dame Blanche
I was driving, washed-up, half drunk, in the middle of nowhere in Yorkshire.
When I caught sight of a young girl, in a white dress, wandering along the road.
I stopped, and offered to drive her home. She nodded. At that moment, I realized that she was as pale as the moon & beautiful.
Silence was complete. No words, no breaths, no more the sound of the car.
After a long time, we arrived at her home. It began to rain and I escorted her to the door with my umbrella. When the door shut on my way to the car, I heard voices inside :
« What is it ? What's happened ? Who's there ? », the door opened, an old man and his wife looked at me with scared faces.
« I'm sorry Madam, Sir, I have just driven your daughter home, she was wandering on the road... »
« What are you saying, cruel man ? Go away! » The woman began to cry. « Why are you talking about our dead daughter ! »
Once upon a time, a long long time ago,
sailors travelled across remote oceans
to sell stuff ; and they sold their souls.
Many of them never came back.
To have a safe trip, they hanged a witch
at the bow of their boat and pampered her.
And the salt & the winds of remote
seas, and the madness of the sailors
made her all green. They loved her
so much (she was a mum, a goddess
& the only woman on board) that they
spent a lot of time taking care of her
hair or her nails or her feet. And they
were so sad when they came back
that they gave her name to their lands :
Little Paul had no parents
little Paul had no home
& little Paul had no money.
Only a tiny button from his mum's dress.
He wandered through the city begging
for little bits of food or some pennies
to important people who drove him away.
As he used to sleep outside
he was dying of cold.
One night a very old woman,
wrinkled, hollow, hideous, passed by
& saw him shivering & crying alone.
She offered him to come to her mansion :
« It's warm, quiet, and you could stay
for ever... ». Little Paul was scared but he
agreed. At the entrance, there was a very
tiny poodle, nasty & so agressive that
he had 3 heads ! He was barking so loud
that Little Paul didn't dare to enter. The dreadful
old woman said : « If you want to enter
you have to give him something of yours. »
Little Paul searched in his pockets and found
nothing else that the button of his mum's dress for
Cerberus. « Now, said the ghastly woman,
come in ! and don't you ever leave, because,
Little Paul, you are died of cold... »
In a dreary landscape, there was a widow who wanted to marry the last of their daughters before she died. There was no gentleman around, but an old & awful widowed, a very rich landlord with a red beard, so he was named Barbe Rousse, The younger sister was very afraid to marry him but after a while, as they had met each other often, she found he was not so hideous and repulsive as he looked like, and accepted the proposal.
Her life was delighful, and never did she regret her choice. They felt so confindent that when he had to leave for his affairs, he gave the keys to his wife and said : « You can go where you want in the house, but not in the locked room in the basement. Can I trust you ? », « Of course, Barbe Rousse, my husband ! » And he left.
But the desire & the curiosity were so strong that she could not resist & she transgressed the rule.
Shivering, she went down to the basement and unlocked the door. The room was dark and the ground was slippy. She lit a lantern, dropped the keys and suddently thought she was going to die : the ground was full of blood & the walls were full of the mutilated cadavers of women !
She picked up the key stained in blood, locked up the door, and went back to her room. She tried hard to clean the key, but the blood stain remained. So that when Barbe Rousse came back, and retrieved the keys, he understood immediatly what had happened.
« You betrayed me... » « I'm sorry, Barbe Rousse... » said the poor frightened creature. « Come with me ! » She refused, wept, cried, begged, but he took her down to the basement, locked up the door and said : « Do you know who are all those women ? They are my former wives, and all of them were not trustworthy. So now, you have to join them... ».
art is monstruous
art is scary
art is strange
art makes you feel strange & like a stranger
being yourself makes you feel like a stranger
doing what you want makes you a monster