“But I can see us lost in the memory / August slipped away into a moment in time / ‘Cause it was never mine”
By Taylor Swift, from her song “August” (2020)
01/09/2024, London, UK
My dear,
Please be my angel, be my angel, be my angel. Let your divine light shine again on this bright September afternoon. You’ve been here with me long enough to know the drill: where there is a busy month, there is a less busy letter. The length fluctuates with the ebb and flow of the tides, the cycles of the moon, the rise and fall of the stars. Better to keep you in check, or I fear you’ll get too spoiled. It’s good to tie ourselves down from time to time, wear our iron shoes and stay with feet planted firmly, to foster and nourish the connections that keep us attached to the world at large.
August for me was a month of barely being alone with my thoughts, a whirlwind enveloping, a tornado carrying me off into a land of overwhelming technicolour. No, this definitely ain’t Kansas anymore. Instead, there were late night walks, white babydoll dresses, and dinners with roasted rhubarb. Sightings of foxes and rats through iron-work fences. An exhilarating endurance crawl with friends through major life events and cigarette smoke. A daisy-chain of weeks that makes one wonder, “What death will I die tomorrow?” What death is there left to die? Every good life comprises a million little ones, after all, small reinventions, tiny adjustments. Connections shifting. And August, primarily, is a month of such little rearrangements, when the summer bleeds slowly into the fall.
Sun-dazed and blurry-sighted as I am right now, I never forget a promise. And I did promise you a catalogue of my Yorkshire adventures last month, among other things. So that is then exactly what you shall get, my dear. Each letter contains exactly what it says on the tin, except when it doesn’t. Twists and turns are to be expected. Keep your feet on the ground, whether in platform Mary-Janes, leather loafers, or big stomping boots. That is my sage advice as of right now. Ask in five minutes and I will probably have changed my mind. I am always right, except when I am not. And I am sure of all I am unsure of. Which is that it is sane to be insane, etcetera, etcetera. You see, nonsense is like a third language to me, and I can be quite fluent at times. Oh, well. We must go on nonetheless.
But first…
It’s time for another limited time submission prompt! Having received such plentiful, wondrous entries when prompted about “Death and the Maiden”, I figured we should re-channel that momentum into a section I regrettably had to cut from that full length DatM thesis, namely, “real life Death and the Maiden”. Or rather, dead girls. This descriptive prompt is all about girlhood’s obsession with martyrs, with suicide. Think about Sofia Coppola’s “the Virgin Suicides”, about Ophelia, about the anatomical Venus, about Joan of Arc, read Kim Addonizio’s poem "Dead Girls" (“dead girls… show up often in the movies, facedown in the weeds beside the highway”). Is girlhood just a prelude to martyrdom? Why is the tenderness of the lamb associated with the foul butcher? What conditions women (and female-presenting people) to associate femininity with this sort of self-sacrifice, this desperate grasp for agency, this glamorisation of the one on the chopping block?
“I was trying to make sense of the different ways men and women related to Ophelia. Women seemed to invoke her like a patron saint; men seemed mostly interested in fetishizing her flowery, waterlogged corpse.”
By B.N. Harrison, from “The Unified Theory of Ophelia: on Women, Writing, and Mental Illness” (2015)
Write, think, stew, and chew on your feelings and spit them out again, and send in whatever emerges! Submissions for this specific prompt close on September 26th1, so be sure to submit before that date. As always, you can find our full submission guide here.
As for what else is new, well, I wasn’t going to tell you, but I will, if only because you asked so nicely. Politeness still gets you far nowadays, you know. The DatM themed submission flood started with a lovely anonymous poem, and from then on there were plenty more. There were Hades & Persephone retellings: some with a brazen Persephone, some with an agenda, some with an unsure Hades. And a poem from Persephone’s view to match it. There was our first visual art submission, in the form of a wondrous collage piece, there was an excerpt of a glittering novel, and a short story about death taking a wife. All equally wondrous creations— I’m so thankful for all of the amazing writers and artists that I got to collaborate with for this prompt. It means the world. Finally, on socials, there is a solitary write-up about Tippi Hedren and the creation of 1981’s “Roar”. A small curiosity on the side. That should be more than enough to satisfy your curious mind, no?
Enough yapping now, let’s get on with the newsletter.
I. Archive Updates
“Whoever said that light was life and darkness nothing? For some of us, the mythologies are different.”
by Margaret Atwood, from “My Life as a Bat” (1992)
Speaking of keeping you on your toes, this month’s archive updates are going to work out a little differently. Pay attention now, my dear. Instead of curating our usual list of academic resources, I have gathered a handful of my favourite short fiction stories to get you perfectly acclimatised to the upcoming foggy season. These are stories of frights and autumnal sights, stories that burst with iconography like a ripe juicy apple, stories that harvest the golden dew out of the early September air and reshape it into magic. Perfect to go with the recipe at the end of Section III of this newsletter, just so you know. Let’s get those cozy chills going.
“the Premature Burial” - link
A true master of the short horror story, all of Edgar Allan Poe’s works have a unique way of getting under the reader’s skin. In this one, the cataleptic narrator has a strong fear of being buried alive, mistaken for dead and wrongfully interred. As he takes us by the hand through a morbid labyrinth of examples of premature burials, the story quickens the heartbeat and brings a frightful chill, its language wrapping and twisting, constricting. With every measure the narrator mentions to prevent his own claustrophobic demise, the unease grows and spreads, anxiety resting in the stomach. It’s a hoot of a story sure to bring a shiver, so you have been warned.
“To be buried, while alive, is, beyond question, the most terrific of these extremes, which has ever fallen into the law of mere mortality. That it has frequently, very frequently, so fallen, will scarcely be denied by those who think. The boundaries which divide Life from Death are best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?”
“the Cabinet of Edgar Allan Poe” - link
Penguin’s “Portable Edgar Allan Poe” (2006) anthology describes him as the “master of terror, death, murder, fantasy, and revenge”, and this short story by Angela Carter attempts to trace his affinities for the (aforementioned) morbid throughout his immediate family history, and most importantly, his childhood spent in the theatre where his mother performed. With Carter’s signature baroque, dense style of writing, this story may not be entirely spooky, but it is highly atmospheric and symbolically compact. It’s the kind of story that leaves an imprint, one that will have you thinking about it for days on end, one you will return to, over and over, looking for a clue you missed or a sentence you only half-understood the first time.
“On his brow her rouged lips left the mark of Cain.
Having, at an impressionable age, seen with his own eyes the nature of the mystery of the castle - that all it's horrors are so much painted cardboard and yet they terrify you - […].”
“the Emissary” - link
If you asked me about my favourite autumnal read of the past four or so years, chances are that I recommended you Ray Bradbury’s “the October Country” (1955). It’s a masterful collection of short stories, ranging from morbid to macabre to silly, but also suitably dense with the staples of the colder seasons: skeletons, eerie night walks, haunted fairs, falling leaves, and much more. My favourites from this collection are “the Next in Line”, “Skeleton” , “the Scythe”, and the story I’ve selected for today: “the Emissary”. It’s an atmospheric piece, really dense with classic Halloween imagery and descriptions, and sure to get one excited for the fall months. Make sure to light a candle, get a blanket, and cozy up.
“Autumn burnt the trees bare and ran Dog still farther around, fording creek, prowling graveyard as was his custom, and back in the dusk to fire off volleys of barking that shook windows wherever he turned.
In the late last days of October, Dog began to act as if the wind had changed and blew from a strange country.”


II. Where I’ve Been
“Barefoot / and sun-dazed, I bite into this ripe peach / of a month,”
by Linda Pastan, from “August” in “the Months” (1999)
Oh, my. Where to even start? Attempting to summarise my doings of the past two months as I am trying now would leave anyone dizzied and dazed, not to mention overwhelmed, surely. But regardless of such semantics, I very much intend to tell you all about what I’ve been up to, from my travels in Yorkshire, to my time among vampires, and one very spooky cemetery meet-up. There are plentiful stories to be told, and as always, I intend to tell them, my dear. So, shall we? I’ll lead the way.
II.I A postcard from… York[shire]
Remember when I wrote a newsletter or two ago that I was done traveling for a little while? Well, my apologies, but I lied. Before I put down my heavy roots again, I actually had one more stop on my trails and trials, and that was in Yorkshire, where a good friend of mine resides. Of course, being two professionals in the art of dilly-dallying, as well as esoteric history buffs, and classic literature fiends, we couldn’t let such a trip go by without a packed itinerary of sights to see. That would be a major faux pass. When one is near such significant locations, one simply has to go see them. Such is the way.
Our first sight of the trip was actually one with a story related specifically to yours truly. You see, a year or two ago I bought a few sheets out of somebody’s 1950s (?) photo album at an antique market, because they had the most stunning film images of Gothic churches and ruins pasted right on them. My friend did a little digging, and it turned out one of the churches- “Fountains Abbey”- was right up in Yorkshire! So of course we set out in the pouring rain, to take in the atmosphere of this magnificent monastery in ruins, and recreate those very pictures of mine. All it took was a significant amount of detective work and attention to detail, and probably the loss of more than a few precious braincells, but I think we got the shots perfectly matched.
And just in case you missed it last time: I shoot my film pictures on a a Canon Sure Shot 85 Zoom, and my preferred film stock of choice is Kodak ColorPlus. More on that in another newsletter. I know some of you will be asking, so I’m just trying to stay ahead of the curve here.
Another stop on our list that you might enjoy reading about was the “Brontë parsonage” up in Haworth. This is, of course, a veritable Valhalla for any Gothic literature fans, spawning classics such as “Wuthering Heights” (1847), “Jane Eyre” (1847), and “the Tenant of Wildfell Hall” (1848). All three Brontë sisters (Emily, Charlotte, and Anne) lived and wrote in this house, as did their brother Branwell, and it is magnificently preserved and restored for the public to peruse. Haworth itself is a sight as well: there is nothing like seeing the moors and village streets that inspired these great works, and of course we had to watch “Wuthering Heights” (1939) in preparation the night before going. One of my favourite little tidbits from the museum section of the parsonage was this part of a review of “Wuthering Heights” from 1848:
“There is an old saying that those who eat toasted cheese at night will dream of Lucifer. The author of ‘Wuthering Heights’ had evidently eaten toasted cheese”
From “Graham’s Magazine”, July 1848, via the Brontë Parsonage exhibit
After a quick browse of Haworth, we went a good way’s back on a steam train, which was surprisingly more fun that I had anticipated, and the rest of the week was a lot more relaxed in turn. York is generally a beautiful city with a rich, Gothic and medieval look, and a spooky history to boot. It’s the most haunted city in the UK, if you’re willing to take our ghost tour guide’s word for it. We went on “the Deathly Dark Ghost Tour of York”, which was quite theatrical and eccentric in nature, but quite fun entertainment for the night, complete with tales of plague and hauntings, witches and poltergeists. And of course, you can’t visit York without seeing “the Shambles”, or “Whip-Ma-Whop-Ma-Gate”, or the “York Minster” in all their odd storybook glory.




II.II Tales from the Convention
If you know me well enough, you know that I am very normal about the TVDU (haha…). All jokes aside, I was probably twelve or thirteen when my mom and I first started watching “the Vampire Diaries” and I have never been the same since. Seeing the likes of Katherine and Klaus on my screen at such an impressionable age has done irreparable damage to my psyche, in the best way possible. Not to even mention what “Twilight” did to me. I suppose you could say I fell “irrevocably and unconditionally in love”.
So, having shared that, I was definitely intrigued when, a few months ago, I saw an advertisement for a convention dedicated wholly to fantasy and vampire media, including “the Vampire Diaries” (2009-2017) / “the Originals” (2013-2018), “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” (1997-2003), “Twilight” (2008), and more. Count me in!
This was actually my first ever fan convention, so a lot of my experience was just learning the ropes on how these kinds of events operate. I had weekend tickets, a personal schedule, and some pre-booked guest photo opportunities, and that was it. On Saturday, I skipped half of the morning stuff to arrive for my pre-booked photo opportunity with Joseph Morgan (Klaus Mikaelson from the TVDU) looking as good as possible. You might call this vain, but I would like to refer to it as strategically self-absorbed— I wanted a great picture, and nothing was going to stop me, my dear. These kinds of photo opportunities with guests are lightning fast, and the queues are sluggishly long, but I was beyond pleased with my picture, so all that effort was not wasted. After that, I was off to watch the panel with the cast of the Originals2, and the panel with Joseph Morgan and Persia White. Ending the day on a high note.
Not to geek out too much on you, but it really was so incredible seeing all of these people from my favourite show in the flesh! Leah Pipes (Camille O’Connell from “the Originals”) especially was so kind and sweet when I chatted with her at her table, and I loved seeing the cast of my favourite show interact right in front of me at the panels— hearing Joseph do a bit of his “Vampires of New Orleans…” speech from S01E08 of “the Originals” was so fun!


Then, day 2, the Sunday, was fully packed and busy in comparison. I got my picture taken with Leah Pipes, and Juliette Landau (who plays Drusilla in “Buffy the Vampire Slayer”), and Juliette immediately clocked my little Drusilla cosplay dress moment. I watched the Buffy panel3, the “Twilight” panel4, the “Vampire Diaries” panel5, and the panel with Paul Wesley and Ian Somerhalder, which was ridiculously packed! Seriously, I think the event organisers underestimated how many TVDU fans would show up. All the vendors sold out of their Vampire Diaries related paraphernalia within the first day. In between panels I went to have a chat with Rachelle Lefevre as well, which was a big deal as tween-age me was obsessed with her part in “Twilight”. She was my favourite part of that movie growing up, I adored her.
One of my favourite stories from the Day 2 panels was hearing Peter Facinelli talk about the flashback scene in “Twilight” (2008) in which Carlisle (played by Peter Facinelli) bites and turns Edward (played by Robert Pattinson). There was an elaborate set-up about how he whispered something in Rob’s ear for every take, and how on day one of the shoot he would be in-character, whispering something like “I’m sorry”, because he felt like Carlisle would feel guilty for turning Edward, despite Edward being on his deathbed. On day two, Peter said he whispered, for one take only, “Rob, you’re so sexy”, at which Rob couldn’t help but smile ever so slightly. And that’s the take that supposedly made it into the film. Who knows, it might all just be jokes. Judge for yourself:

II.III Meet me at the Cemetery Gates
Of course, I would be remiss in ending this newsletter without talking about the first ever White Lily Society meet-up! Such an exciting occasion! On the 25th, I met up with a few White Lily Society members here in London for a small, informal tour of Highgate Cemetery and a chat. It really was so lovely to meet everybody who came, some of them who had submitted work to the Substack before, and I believe we set a great foundation for some more meet-ups in the future, so do keep an eye on the White Lily Society Instagram for more dates announced soon. The first time is always a bit clunky, so there’s definitely certain parts to be ironed out— the fake candle I had brought to light our way through the spooky tombs of the Egyptian Avenue was comically understated, something I definitely intend to fix. And perhaps I could tone down the amount of times I referred to tombstones with lilies engraved on them as our “paid advertisements”— Just kidding. I am never, ever, letting that one go. The dry jokes are part of the allure! You’ll just have to accept them if you ever come on one of my tours, I fear.


III. Book Review: “Bones and All”
“That night, I learned, there are two kinds of hunger. The first I can satisfy with cheeseburgers and chocolate milk, but there's a second part of me, biding its time. It can go on like that for months, maybe even years, but sooner or later I'll give into it. It's like there's a great big hole inside me, and once it takes his shape he's the only thing that can fill it.”
By Camille DeAngelis, from “Bones and All” (2015), p.52
Plot description: “Maren Yearly doesn’t just break hearts, she devours them. Since she was a baby, Maren has had what you might call "an issue" with affection. Anytime someone cares for her too much, she can’t seem to stop herself from eating them. Abandoned by her mother at the age of 16, Maren goes looking for the father she has never known, but finds more than she bargained for along the way. Faced with love, fellow eaters, and enemies for the first time in her life, Maren realizes she isn’t just looking for her father, she is looking for herself. The real question is, will she like the girl she finds?”
So, who was going to tell me that this book is nothing at all like the 2022 film adaptation? Or was I just supposed to find that out myself? I suppose I was. Going in blind, of course comparisons to the Luca Gaudagnino film are to be expected. What I didn’t expect, was just how far apart these two stories truly lie. It’s night and day, really. The bones (forgive me) of the story are the same: there is of course cannibalism, and most of the story sprawls across a road trip throughout the US, but to call the book a love story like the film would feel to me to be farfetched. Rather, where the film is clearly interested in the romance, in continuing this cannibalism-as-metaphor-for-otherness thing, the book unfolds itself, unwinds like a skein of yarn, as Maren unfolds her own emotions and thoughts. She is the narrative. It’s her growing love and acceptance of herself, not of Lee, that we trace through the story.
DeAngelis’ writing style, like her story, is very sparse and sentimental, flowing seamlessly from wandering thought to wandering thought. Little things get spotlighted while seemingly important ones go unnoticed, as we are confined within Maren’s limited and often naive view of the world. As readers we feel otherness the same way Maren does, but not because we share her tastes for human flesh, but because we are singled out, locked out of much of the world simply through the scope of her thoughts. The isolation comes from the themes, and is amplified by the writing style and the choices DeAngelis makes within it.
Despite the cannibalism, tender lambs of God need not fear: both the film and the book are quite coy about the logistics of its characters “eating”. The book more so than the film, even. Guadagnino’s loosely related version of the story features gore (completely with gut-wrenching bone crunches, snaps, and smacks), while DeAngelis’ story revives around the implication of gruesome things happening. Characters dissociate and time flies, and suddenly there is only the smell of copper pennies and plastic bags with clothes to dispose of. It’s all quite cunning, really. It sneaks up on you, makes you do the work.
Ultimately though, I think starting with the film set me off on the wrong foot here, as these two interpretations of the same story couldn’t be any more different. I suspect how much you get out of either one, too, will depend on which one falls in the other’s shadow. Going in with the right expectations is key.
“Bones and All” ☆☆☆.5 /5 stars - White Lily Society approved
While I evidently enjoyed the book a good amount, its most significant yet ultimately meaningless feat was putting me onto the wonders of stove-top caramelised pears, dusted in brown sugar, and sprinkled with cinnamon. As a lover of food descriptions in books, I swear my mouth watered just reading about it, so I knew I simply had to go out and make some. The truth of it is that I’ve been obsessed ever since. So, to end my review, here’s my take on it, using either apples or pears:
Get your vanilla ice cream out of the freezer. It will need at least 8-10 minutes to start getting perfectly soft, and in the meanwhile, you can cook your apples. If you want something lighter, the ice cream can of course be omitted. I actually prefer to do this if I’m making pears instead.
Finely chop up your apple of choice (I use pink lady), and toss those into a lightly greased frying pan on medium-high heat. If you’re using pears, get the canned halves in light syrup, no chopping required.
Sprinkle brown sugar overtop to let the fruit begin to soften, and add your spices: cinnamon is best, but I also add Dutch “speculaas” spices, which is a mix of all sorts of stuff including nutmeg, cloves, ginger, cardamom, and grated orange peel. Let the whole mixture stew until the fruit becomes soft and brown, and the sugar starts to caramelise in the pan. If you’re having pears, they’re best enjoyed on their own. If you’re having apples, add them to the vanilla ice cream, and enjoy! Indulgent, cozy goodness. Better to eat this than to eat people, no?
“Grief turns out to be a place none of us know until we reach it. We anticipate (we know) that someone close to us could die, but we do not look beyond the few days or weeks that immediately follow such an imagined death. We misconstrue the nature of even those few days or weeks.”
By Joan Didion, from “the Year of Magical Thinking” (2003)


In memoriam.
A week or two ago, my grandpa passed away. I am telling you this, because I think the traces of him in the White Lily Society are important to point out. It was my grandpa who gave me my first ever film camera, and my first tripod. He was a detective, a meteorologist, a camera enthusiast, a maverick, a bit of a weirdo. He gave me his old handbooks from back in the day, tomes about forensics and crime scene photography. He helped me convert my CRT tv to work with a chromecast, all over text message. He couldn’t resist sprinkling his strange facts into conversation, as he had a penchant for things true, but slightly surreal. Origin stories, traces of names, and historic curveballs. One of his catchphrases when something odd happened was to shake his head and mutter “There’s people, and there’s pencils”. Puzzled, I once asked him what he meant by that. He simply scoffed softly and said the phrase was presented exactly as it needed to be. Literally, there are people and there are pencils. Perhaps a bit nonsensical on the surface but always sharp underneath, just like him. And that’s the kind of energy the White Lily Society fully intends to honour. Always.
Anyways, every September to me is without fail the start of something golden, something shiny and new. Instinctual, cinnamon-flavoured, amber-hued. I’m looking forward to the rain, to the blues. To the language of the colder months. I think this yearning for lore, for knowledge, is really a yearning for some sort of religion of one’s own. A way to interpret and file the world around us with some sort of sense, some sort of rhyme or reason, or rhythm. All people yearn eternally to be explained, or to explain.
I think that when I die I want a tomb of my own, with stained-glass windows, and a stone bench where people can sit and read to me, whatever they like. Perhaps a bust, so you can give me a little kiss from beyond the veil. Anyways, I am getting lost in the narrative again. Time to wrap everything up. The heat is festering, but with my scented candle burning and my curtains drawn closed I can almost fool myself into believing fall is already here. Nevertheless, I am excited to greet her when she makes her way over. On top of that, I’m looking forward to going through all of your submissions, curating and editing them. Remember: Ars longa, vita brevis. Life is short and art (or craft) is long. Best to hone and honour yourself, always.
Until my next letter,
With love (and violence),
x Sabrina Angelina, the White Lily Society
Currently reading: “Blue Nights” by Joan Didion // Most recent read: “Bones and All” by Camille DeAngelis
White Lily Society links // Sabrina Angelina links
You’ve come this far, so clearly something about my writing struck your fancy. Maybe it was the word games, the repetition, maybe it was the content itself. Either way, why not join the White Lily Society? Come, become a martyr of deliciousness.
Ps. this newsletter was named after the song by “Flower Face”, one of my favourites from the past August.
Of course, you can always submit something related to these themes after those dates, but it won’t be grouped in with other themes submissions. You have been warned.
With Riley Voelke “Freya Mikaelson”, Nathaniel Buzolic “Kol Mikaelson”, Leah Pipes “Camille O’Connell”, and Charles Michael Davis “Marcel Gerard”. Joseph Morgan played “Klaus Mikaelson” and Persia White played “Abby Bennett”
With Charisma Carpenter “Cordelia Chase”, Juliette Landau “Drusilla”, and James Marsters “Spike”
With Jackson Rathbone “Jasper Cullen”, Kellan Lutz “Emmett Cullen”, Ashley Greene “Alice Cullen”, Rachelle Lefevre “Victoria”, and Peter Facinelli “Carlisle Cullen” (Taylor Lautner “Jacob Black” was also there but I completely missed him!)
With Zach Roerig “Matt Donovan”, Kat Graham “Bonnie Bennett”, Chris Brochu “Luke Parker”, Arielle Kebbel “Lexi”, Michael Malarkey “Enzo”, and Kayla Ewell “Vicki Donovan”. Ian Somerhalder played “Damon Salvatore” and Paul Wesley played “Stefan Salvatore”