Fairy tales dragged kicking and screaming into the 21st century. Strange stories, strange images, strange words.

Photographed and written over a period of years with many famous models this is a unique collection of images and words

Short stories that will fascinate you, disgust you, intrique you, make you smile.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Oracular Shelle had been a clairvoyant all her life, both before and after Now.  If she had a motto it would be “Been there, Seen It, Got the T-Shirt”, though probably in Latin, Vini, Vidi, Vesti or some such.

 

It was kind of hard to be surprised when you'd seen it all, and all meant everything that would be, everything that she would do, smell, touch, hear, see, the whole schmear laid out in story book fashion.   Oracular Shelle lived her life in a permanent sense of deja-vu, or maybe not so much seen it before as seen it coming.

 

Page after fashionable page of current events all before they were dusty motes in some historian's eye were available to her at any time.  Oh, how she wished for some kind of time based dyslexia that would give her some respite against the inexorable.

 

But instead, here she was, sitting in the throne room of the Temple of the Revealed Truth, bored to the back teeth with worshipping supplicants asking questions of their own future without a care for hers.  Half the time the worshippers would switch to a denial of truth mode, not wanting Ruth but Richard, especially if it involved them being cod-eyed before their three score and ten.

 

The other half took Oracular Shelle's vision and re-affirmed their prejudices faster than a cat turning down food.  All binocular vision, their tawdry schemes were third-eye dry and brittle as the bones of lawyer.  Will I make money?  Will I be boss?  Will I grow up to be big and strong.

 

The only thing that gave any lift to Oracular Shelle's priestessing were the lovers.  To watch a twined story of two (or more) hearts beating together for life was an exhilarating, invigorating, life lifting experience that none could deny.   This happened rarely, for the first strokes of love would often turn out to be as fragile as a glass bullet.  But true love was an adamantine arrow from Cupid's bow, spearing souls and searing the shark-eyes of those less fortunate.

This is not a book to describe, but a book to see and read.