How often is the passing of one storm only a prelude to another.
Cinderella, until lately, has never been a passive dreamer waiting for rescue. The forerunners of the Ash-girl have all been hardy, active heroines who take their lives into their own hands and work o...
But as the scissors snip-snapped through her hair and the razor shaved the rest, she realized with a sudden awful panic that she could no longer recall anything from the past. I cannot remember, she w...
At least Em, long-suffering as she was, tried to give the child a bit of her heart, which - after all those years of living with Henry on that old gray farm in the middle of the gray prairie - was as...
A man whose axe was missing suspected his neighbor’s son. The boy walked like a thief, looked like a thief, and spoke like a thief. But the man found his axe while he was digging in the valley, and th...
One day Ilka told me they were moving to America. Her papa, who was a professor, had found work there. Is it far away? I asked. America? We hadn’t studied geography yet. Over the ocean, she said. I’d...
No one sees her of course. She doesn’t exist unless you count bad dreams. Yet still she flies,
Like the piano player, I have memory in my fingertips. I watch words spill out creating worlds, inventing colors, bridging generations.
Laughter in the face of certain death? It is the very definition of the Hero, said the White Queen. The Jabberwock knew it and therefore could no longer move against you.