Cobalt Issue 29 - Poison Apple

President’s Letter
Dear readers,
Ending the first term and starting the new year has
been an exciting experience.
Celebrating the
haunting stories and creativity that plague our
minds, here is Poison Apple, an issue all about those
twisted fairy tales.
From original creations to
interpretations of long-lasting stories. As you
read through this issue, we hope you enjoy
every submission just as we have as part
of Cobalt.
Yours,
Alyssa

Contents
4 • Dreams of the Hunted
6 • The Lament of Mother Gothel
7 • Enchanted Omens
8 • Point of View of the Wolf
9 • My Fairytale Ending
10 • Rotten
11 • Sanctus
The Message of Fairytales • 12
I (Don’t) want to be a Princess • 14
Thursday • 16
Ghosting • 18
Her • 19
Are You There? • 20
The Case of Bathory Mansion • 22
Happily Never After • 24
Sweet Poison • 27

SOPHIE EMENY
Enchanted Omens
Birds and deer are often used as symbols and imagery in
dark fairytales. This photo collection aims to evoke a sense
of stepping into the wildlife of a dark fairytale.
Venture into the shadowy depths of enchanted
forests and lakes, where stories unfold. A solitary
fawn stands alone, its innocent gaze mirroring the
fragility of life. A black swan glides across the inky
waters, its elegant form starkly contrasting the
depths of the lake. A mother deer feeds her fawn, a
tender act of love amidst the harsh realities of the
natural world. Nestled in the branches of ancient
trees, a Steller's Jay observes the world with a
knowing eye, its vibrant plumage a beacon in the
fading light. These captivating images invite you
into a realm where the boundaries between reality
and fable blur, where beauty and darkness
intertwine, and where fairytales are told.

Point of View of The Wolf
Unsure, unwell, tired
He broke waves against the shore
And found home in her
Red coat, red blood, red
Her skin is warm like their fur
Their barking voice, life
Blazing, scalding, screams
Inside the box, a nightmare
He tries to wake up
The Real comes and goes
Fading, shifting, painful world
Anger—indigo
Stuttering silence
Violent, calm, violent, and hot
Three Five Three, Again
The heartbeat quickens
A word, she speaks, a story
The Real fades back in
The taste of flesh, of
Life and death, of slowing breath
Sharp eyes, sharp claws, red
Gone again, life stops
A box, a prison, a mind
Echoing plea and—
—attempt to breathe now
The Real changes with the tides
More people now, friends?
Hands in his head now
Pulling him out with sharp axe
A splitting, no breath
He remembers then
The time before, before her
Before them, and it
The wolf, then it howls
Heavy with her, heart in hands
Heart so fast, her scream
Dark, dark, dark again
A floating voice, another
Himself, in red—blood
Someone calling out
Reaching to him, face obscured
Then. His hands are cold.
His hind is lame, his
Breaths are short, the axe swings down
And Wolf is no more
By Ben Barnett

I stared in the mirror, hands splayed,
Each cheekbone taut and strained.
My ghostly pallor faced me, so faint
Was the reflection, the shell of my face
Taunting me on one of my happiest days.
MY FAIRYTALE ENDING
BY SNEHA AGASTI
The veil should have been black; while
I mourned my losses with a vague smile.
Girls dream of my nightmare, so vile.
My wedding garter suffocatingly tight,
I wondered why the noose was on my thigh.
'Holy' matrimony, invitation to halls of hell
Now adorned in white roses and sweet smell
Nearby, the clocktower tolls - my death knell
As I ready to walk down the aisle
And fight the urge to cough up bile.
He looks vacant; his face like a morgue mask
"Call it off?" My body screams at me to ask.
I grimace brightly instead, my Herculean task.
Everyone smiles at me, like funeral mourners
Lining the fiery-white hall, even the corners.
I hear the priest dimly, muttering for my soul.
"Do you give your mind to him, in its whole?"
"I do," And my body is his, like I could have told.
"I do," And the contract is signed in my blood.
I will now never be my own, when all is done.
Everyone motions at me to smile for a picture.
My parents squeal over the restraint on my finger.
"Be happy!" They smile brightly, and at me they sing,
Watching death squeeze on me, my crushing gold ring.
To the darkness I am wed; on my life hell must hail.
I can only watch helplessly. So ends, my fairytale.

The Messages of Fairytales
When we think of fairy tales, we may think of ancient forests, glittering gowns and heroic
kisses. However, as children, people don’t stop to think what meanings may lurk behind these
charming tales, and how this may impact the way we see life.
Fairy tale critic Jack Zipes argues that fairy tales represent struggles over family, gender and
sexuality. Without realising it, fairy tales may even shape the way we think and lead to certain
stereotypes. Take the example of stepmothers. Remarriage is a common theme in fairy tales,
and is seen in various tales including Cinderella, Hansel and Gretel, and Snow White. In every
one of these tales, the stepmothers are portrayed as vindictive abusers. Arguably, this may
have contributed to the misconception that stepmothers are not going to treat their step
children well.
There seems to be a series of different explanations for the portrayal of stepmothers, but none
of these seem to be connected. For example, scholars Gilbert and Gubar propose that the
reason for the step mother’s abuse in ‘Snow White’ arises from a need to survive. In a world
where a woman’s worth was measured in terms of her beauty, a woman who was more
beautiful than herself would have posed a major threat to the queen as she will one day be
replaced by Snow White. So to prevent the inevitable, the queen attempts to eliminate her
opposition. Gilbert and Gubar go as far as to suggest that Snow White will eventually become
like her stepmother in the same desperate attempt to keep her social status from being taken
away by the young and beautiful. This would imply that the Evil Queen’s immorality does not
stem from her status as stepmother, but rather is a representation of the brutal truth of a
woman’s survival in those times.

The need to survive is also an explanation for the abusive step mother in ‘Hansel and Gretel’,
albeit for different reasons. Zipes suggests that at the time the Brothers Grimm were writing the
tale, there was a famine in Germany and the financial struggle of Hansel and Gretel’s family
reflects this. Since they weren’t the stepmother’s biological children, she may not have felt the
need to protect them, instead wishing to make sure they had enough money to care for any
children she may bear with her new husband. This need to protect her own children may arise
from the evolutionary need to pass on her own genes to future generations.
However, whilst these theories may explain to a certain extent the bad reputation step mothers
have in fairy tales, it does not change the fact that they still influence children to see
stepmothers as a bad thing. This is obviously a harmful lesson to teach children, as they may
begin to meet step parents in anticipation of being mistreated. And this is not the only
stereotype that fairy tales hold. Many people today are opposed to the fact that the ‘good’
people in fairy tales are presented as beautiful, whereas the ‘bad’ people are presented as ugly.
For example, in Cinderella, the ugly step sisters are presented as, well, ugly, whereas
Cinderella is presented as beautiful. Many argue that these representations lead children to
have a lower self esteem. This may be true, but many also argue that it was not the intention of
the original writers. It can be argued that the characters and their presentations in fairy tales
are symbolic. For example, inner goodness is represented by outer beauty and inner
immorality is represented by outer ugliness. This symbolism, some argue, makes the tales
simpler for children to understand. However, conflict arises when children think that a person
has to be beautiful in order to be good. The symbolism may not be worth it for the poor lesson
that it teaches children. Wouldn’t it be much easier if children were taught from the beginning
that people can be good or bad regardless or what they look like?
Another problem with fairy tales is the issue of the ending of fairy tales. Many traditional fairy
tales read today end with the words ‘happily ever after’. Many argue that this teaches children
that once one hardship is overcome, the rest of their lives will be easy, which is a misleading
perspective on life which gives children false expectations about what their life will be like.
However, it could be argued that fairy tales ultimately teach children to push through their
struggles. For example, Cinderella could be seen as an inspiration for survivors of abuse, that
it is possible to overcome those terrors and live a happy life. What is more, the term ‘happily
ever after’ may not be intended as a literal statement that the characters were happy for the
rest of their lives, but that they were able to cope with any further struggles with the faith that
they could push out through the other side, as they did before. Of course, children will not
understand that this was not meant to be taken literally, but as they grow up, they may come to
realise that the term ‘happily ever after’ refers to a peaceful mind, rather than a peaceful
situation. If this is the case, then the term ‘happily ever after’ is not a lie- it just means
something slightly different to what is immediately obvious.
It’s important to note that fairy tales were not originally intended for children. When the French
fairy tales of Charles Perrault, such as ‘Little Red Riding Hood, emerged, they were intended for
the enjoyment of the upper class. Nevertheless, it is undeniable that fairy tales have, for
centuries, had a considerable influence on children, and questions about the lessons they
continue to teach children will continue to be relevant in years to come. For fairy tales may not
have been intended as life lessons, but regardless of intention, every story has a lesson inside
of it, for better or worse.
By Ella Davey

I (Don’t) Want To Be A Princess
“Oh my god, Ovelya!”
In between the resounding ringing sound, I feel my mother’s body rushing to
approach me. Following her, I saw some servants and helpers running around
in panic, talking in such horrible overlapping manner to pick my freezinglycold
body out of the water Anyone else will probably think it’s stupid,
purposively drowning themselves in such an early stage of life. But people with
such judgment most definitely are strangers to alienation. They wouldn’t know
how it felt like to have your entire life being a misfit in your own territory. But
I’ve been abashed from the outside world for as long as I can remember.
I was six when my biological father died, taken by ‘Santet’ a black magic done
by an indigenous witch living behind the mountain top. I was eight when my
mother was forced to leave her family behind and remarried my stepfather in
the name of hierarchy and social obligation. I was twelve when I discovered
that my supposed-to-be protector, the very head of my well-respected family,
had chosen a fit for my soon-to-be betrothal. A ‘semeton’: Someone I have zero
familiarity with but their face, yet somehow still related by blood should one
want to trace down the extended bloodline of my dysfunctional family.
“Eat this, Gek Ayu, and you shall be free from all torture.”
‘Gek Ayu.’ ‘Gek’ means ‘Miss’ while ‘Ayu’ means ‘utmost graceful beauty.’
I hate myself. I hate being I Gusti Ayu Adistri Ovelya. I hate being the princess
of Bali’s Biggest Puri. I hate being graceful. I hate always being told to sit still
and look pretty. I wish I was more like Kadek Maya, the third child from a Jabé
family. Someone non-royal that can girl-bosses her way throughout life.
Someone with freedom. Someone who has every right to choose not her
partner only, but her life in general.
“Eat this, Gek Ayu, and you’ll have the freedom that you’ll always dream
about,” that old servan with unfamiliar face said once again.

I still remember the fire that burned my throat the very second I gulped the
poison apple. And even when I feel like I’m about to pass out a second after,
when I blink my eyes and realize that I just woke up in Maya’s body, I feel no
regrets at all.
Glossarium:
Santet: Santet in Indonesia Santet in English is identical to the word witchcraft,
which means "a form of sorcery, the magical manipulation of supernormal
forces through the casting of spells and conjuring or invoking of spirits, for
either good or bad purposes.
Semeton: Semeton literally means brother or sister in Balinese. Roughly
translated to “group of close people,” or family in Balinese. Used when referring
to someone who is related by blood but not from the same parents. If someone
is your ‘semeton,’ that someone could be your cousin.
I Gusti Ayu A first name for a woman descendant of kings who live in or
around the puri, which is the residence of their ancestors (Balinese nobility)
who ruled or served in the past.
Jabé: A non-royal family, a family that are descendants of the Sudras
(peasants)
Kadek: The first name that indicates that someone is the third child of a Jabé
famil
-D.A

Ghosting
The ghost sat in his seat and pondered.
He was known to do that in his past life; a brooding mess that contemplated existence. He
would continue this habit late into the grave, endless days wondering the point of existing. For
years he would watch his preserved skin transform into a leathery tan. How his nails would
wither and chip as the bugs burrowed their way into the cheap wooden frame of the coffin. His
hollow bones and sunken eyes, clearly having rotted away in the coffin’s humidity.
And after a couple decades of watching, of wondering, he had nothing else to watch. Only his
skeleton remained, not a bug in sight to feast on what was once his flesh.
So, he travelled places. Not in the way that a ghost would haunt, but in the way a man who
was seeking refuge from the outside world would.
A spot that is peaceful and devoid of noise. He much preferred it this way, it was easier to
think without the countless distractions that plagued everyday human life.
Thus, he sat in his seat, a leathery contraption, briefly reminding him of the past before it
quickly blended together with the present. When you’re dead, time isn’t something that’s
necessary to keep track of. The thought amused him, the idea of actually being dead.
Even in life, no one really knew what plagued the man’s mind to the point that he would spend
countless nights staring at the ceiling. And now, it had been centuries, and those same people
were in the grave beside his once preserved body. Yet he never met a single one of them in
death. It was as if he was alone in this world of intangibility. Never to be seen, never to be
heard, never to be felt.
So as the day turned to night, and the night turned to day, he hummed a tune that often played
in the café. Castor by S.A. Karl. And the world seemed calmer. The night seemed more
sombre.
To many, he knew it would drive them insane. But to him, he was finally at peace, in this world
of blissful silence.
Alyssa Tingle

Anonymous

S W E E T P O I S O N
T h i n k i n g o f y o u i s a p o i s o n , I d r i n k o f t e n ,
I n t h e d a n c e o f m y t h o u g h t s , a r h y t h m s o f t e n s .
H o p b y h o p , m y m i n d t a k e s t h e l e a p ,
a l w a y s r e t u r n i n g t o y o u , a s e c r e t I k e e p .
Y o u d o n ' t k n o w m e , i n s h a d o w s I d w e l l ,
D e l u s i o n a l d r e a m s , a s t o r y t o t e l l .
M a y t h i s o b s e s s i o n t u r n t o r e a l i t y s w e e t ,
A p o e t i c d a n c e , w h e r e w e ' r e f a t e d t o m e e t .
- A N O N Y M O U S

Photography for this issue includes original photography from the Cobalt Magazine Production Team, AI-generated imagery, and photography
sourced from UnSplash.com. Contributors include: Note Thanun, Thomas Kelley, Lynn Ann Mitchell, Janosch Lino, Hudson Hintze, Nathan
Mcdine, Mitchell Luo, Jan Kopřiva, Juan Carlos Bayocot, Luigi Boccardo, Clem Onojeghuo, Stefano Pollio, Jamie Chedumbrum, Grace Harris,
Sneha Agasti, Sian Phillips, Diya Tanna, and Ellie Bostock-Smith.