had
been strongest, it had also turned it a bright fire red.
Encouraging glimpses of the edges of a white lace dress amongst the
shelves similarly turned to disappointment when it was found it was
nothing more than the doll Tiko, her face white and smiling, her
golden hair transformed into a flaming scarlet matching the red
glow of the surrounding pots.
There wasn’t a
single sign of the family, not a single sign that anyone had even
lived here.
No one can
remember who first noticed an odd thing about the hardened
pots.
Down one side,
between the band of red and white, there was a bright mosaic of
miniature squares, each one of which contained a mix of intense
colours. They were incredibly small sections of Kilita’s book,
someone realised, which must have shredded and burned in the fire,
the individual pieces being carried aloft by the hot air until they
stuck to the clay of the pots.
Down the other
side of each pot, however, there was something even more
remarkable, a pattern of purest magenta running from the red of the
flames into the cool safety of the snow white porcelain. And this
pattern was the same on every jug, every dish, every
jar.
A young girl, a
woman, and a man, all holding hands as they fled the
flames.
And here, of
course, the tale could end.
You could, after
all, decide for yourself how the story has ended.
Is it a sad
ending, the family having perished in the fire, even though they
have at least being immortalised in a popular piece of
pottery?
Or is it a happy
ending, the pattern being merely a hint that the family have indeed
survived?
Perhaps you
prefer your endings to be even more magical, in which case you’ll
prefer to believe that all the love and life Kilita had poured into
Tiko had been returned by the now lifeless doll, ensuring that the
girl and her parents continued to live on amongst the patterns of
their own pottery.
Whichever of
these descriptions best describes you, perhaps you should read
on.
*
As you’re
probably aware, the pottery created in the fire became a highly
sought after style, leading to countless copies being made and sold
around the world. On the rare occasions that an original piece
becomes available at a respected auction house, it can expect to
command ridiculous prices, as well as much envious squabbling
amongst its many collectors.
One of those
collectors, we are reliably lead to believe, is the Porcelain
Princess herself. She owns at least five pieces, and perhaps even
Tiko herself.
Even here
though, there are disagreements about how she came to acquire these
rare and valuable pieces.
As one version
would have it, the Princess had been intrigued by the tales that
she had heard and – already in possession of a truly remarkable
room made entirely of porcelain – she had sent her soldiers and
courtiers far and wide in search of as many original items as they
could discover and purchase.
According to
another version, however, only Tiko had been acquired in this way,
with the aim of reuniting her with the pots that had magically
appeared within the porcelain room on the very night of the
fire.
But thankfully
both versions agree on one thing; when the Porcelain Princess had
curiously run her fingers across the porcelain pot, she had felt a
connection, a tingling of life. The girl in the pattern moved,
turned to her, smiled.
The girl held
out her hand, the Princess graciously allowing her to tightly grasp
her finger. Gently pulling her finger back, the Princess smiled as
first the girl’s hand and then her arm came free of the porcelain.
More and more of the girl appeared from the pattern of the pot,
gradually growing in size as she stepped completely
clear.
The girl, of
course, didn’t let go of her mother’s hand. And so her mother was
next to step out of the pattern. Kilita’s father followed on close
behind as he, too, continued to hold his wife’s hand, ensuring the
connection of new life flowed between them all.
They all
been strongest, it had also turned it a bright fire red.
Encouraging glimpses of the edges of a white lace dress amongst the
shelves similarly turned to disappointment when it was found it was
nothing more than the doll Tiko, her face white and smiling, her
golden hair transformed into a flaming scarlet matching the red
glow of the surrounding pots.
There wasn’t a
single sign of the family, not a single sign that anyone had even
lived here.
No one can
remember who first noticed an odd thing about the hardened
pots.
Down one side,
between the band of red and white, there was a bright mosaic of
miniature squares, each one of which contained a mix of intense
colours. They were incredibly small sections of Kilita’s book,
someone realised, which must have shredded and burned in the fire,
the individual pieces being carried aloft by the hot air until they
stuck to the clay of the pots.
Down the other
side of each pot, however, there was something even more
remarkable, a pattern of purest magenta running from the red of the
flames into the cool safety of the snow white porcelain. And this
pattern was the same on every jug, every dish, every
jar.
A young girl, a
woman, and a man, all holding hands as they fled the
flames.
And here, of
course, the tale could end.
You could, after
all, decide for yourself how the story has ended.
Is it a sad
ending, the family having perished in the fire, even though they
have at least being immortalised in a popular piece of
pottery?
Or is it a happy
ending, the pattern being merely a hint that the family have indeed
survived?
Perhaps you
prefer your endings to be even more magical, in which case you’ll
prefer to believe that all the love and life Kilita had poured into
Tiko had been returned by the now lifeless doll, ensuring that the
girl and her parents continued to live on amongst the patterns of
their own pottery.
Whichever of
these descriptions best describes you, perhaps you should read
on.
*
As you’re
probably aware, the pottery created in the fire became a highly
sought after style, leading to countless copies being made and sold
around the world. On the rare occasions that an original piece
becomes available at a respected auction house, it can expect to
command ridiculous prices, as well as much envious squabbling
amongst its many collectors.
One of those
collectors, we are reliably lead to believe, is the Porcelain
Princess herself. She owns at least five pieces, and perhaps even
Tiko herself.
Even here
though, there are disagreements about how she came to acquire these
rare and valuable pieces.
As one version
would have it, the Princess had been intrigued by the tales that
she had heard and – already in possession of a truly remarkable
room made entirely of porcelain – she had sent her soldiers and
courtiers far and wide in search of as many original items as they
could discover and purchase.
According to
another version, however, only Tiko had been acquired in this way,
with the aim of reuniting her with the pots that had magically
appeared within the porcelain room on the very night of the
fire.
But thankfully
both versions agree on one thing; when the Porcelain Princess had
curiously run her fingers across the porcelain pot, she had felt a
connection, a tingling of life. The girl in the pattern moved,
turned to her, smiled.
The girl held
out her hand, the Princess graciously allowing her to tightly grasp
her finger. Gently pulling her finger back, the Princess smiled as
first the girl’s hand and then her arm came free of the porcelain.
More and more of the girl appeared from the pattern of the pot,
gradually growing in size as she stepped completely
clear.
The girl, of
course, didn’t let go of her mother’s hand. And so her mother was
next to step out of the pattern. Kilita’s father followed on close
behind as he, too, continued to hold his wife’s hand, ensuring the
connection of new life flowed between them all.
They all
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