Catherine Fisher
Catherine Fisher
Catherine Fisheris a Welsh writer, broadcaster and adjudicator who lives in Newport. Her former jobs include working as a primary school teacher and archaeologist. She also taught Writing for Children at the University of Glamorgan...
NationalityWelsh
ProfessionWriter
life queens moving
The world is a chessboard, Madam, on which we play out our ploys and follies. You are the Queen, of course. Your moves are the strongest. For myself, I claim only to be a knight, advancing in a crooked progress. Do we move ourselves, do you think, or does a great gloved hand place on our squares
loss dark soul
Even across the dark, even across the loss, even across the emptiness, soul will speak to soul
men like-you old-man
Finn smiled ruefully. "I'm a Prisoner, old man. Just like you.
beautiful night men
He worked night and day. He made a coat that would transform him; he would be more than a man; a winged creature, beautiful as light. All the birds brought him feathers. Even the eagle. Even the swan.
art nice mean
The Art Magicke has rules. It means I have to teach you all my tricks. All the substitutions, the replications, the illusions. How to read minds and palms and leaves. How to disappear and reappear. "How to saw people in half?" "That too." "Nice.
dream wall despair
Despair is deep. An abyss that swallows dreams. A wall at the world's end. Behind it I await death. Because all our work has come to this.
wise dream swans
Where are the leaders?' Sapphique asked. 'In the fortresses,' the swan replied. 'And the poets?' 'Lost in dreams of other worlds.' 'And the craftsmen?' 'Forging machines to challenge the darkness.' 'And the Wise, who made the world?' The swan lowered its black neck sadly. 'Dwindled to crones and sorcerers in towers.
stars legends
Underground, the stars are legend.
eye shadow her-eyes
Shadow turned. Her eyes were wet; she smiled at him wanley. "I'll be she loved you.
love-you i-trust-you masters
I trust you, Jared," she whispered. "I always did. I love you, Master.
eye thinking flames
In the Sapient tongue he said softly, ‘Tell me, Master, did you know Incarceron was tiny?’ ‘Is it?’ Sapphique replied in the same language, his green eyes as he looked up lit by deep points of flame. ‘To you, perhaps. Not to its Prisoners. Every prison is a universe for its inmates. And think, Jared Sapiens. Might not the Realm also be tiny, swinging from the watchchain of some being in a world even vaster?
survival pay
Freedom is a small price to pay for survival.
order mind world
When you draw, you copy the world don't you? You remake it on paper, but it isn't the same. It's yours. No one else could have created it just like that. When I make poems, I use the words we all use, but the order and the sound create a new power. This wood is someone's creation. We stumble through it's tendrils, as if we're crawling through the synapses of his mind.
All my life I have dreamed of you.