Category: fairy tale

Mira Morganstein: The Pink Lemonade Club 005

MMCoverThe old woman grinned at her, and for a moment, she looked impossibly, heartbreakingly beautiful. Then the moment passed, and she was a harmless old woman once more.

Or maybe not.

The old woman wanted something from her, it was plain in the eager brightness of her eyes and the way she stood as though she was coiled and ready to spring forward. Mira glanced at the doll again, wondering if there was something wrong with it.

The cover of her book jabbed into her collarbone and ribcage, reminding her of other tales. Tales of princes or maidens meeting old women along the roads they traveled. Of what happened to the older brothers and the unkind sisters.

“I suppose I could come back with the money. How much is it?”

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The Faerie Thief: The Ruby Queen’s Garden 005

TFTcoverConfections and cakes were piled high on glass platters. Tiny sandwiches with no crusts, scones dripping with melted butter, and five different types of bread completed the spread. A porcelain teapot with a cheerful smattering of pinks and pansies and daisies sat in the very center of the table. The sugar bowl hid behind the bulge in the teapot’s middle, shy, while a smaller version of the teapot stood stiff and tall, proudly bearing the cream.

For a moment, Gwyn’s heart soared. The queen watched her with a patient smile on her face before she rang the silver bell at her elbow to summon a servant.

“You seem to have forgotten the girl’s treat,” the Ruby Queen said, enunciating every word with relish.

The servant bobbed her head and rushed away, her eyes averted.

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The Curious Leaf: Voyage to the Moon 005

TCL Cover“Right.” Kya went to lift her foot, but found her feet—her whole self, actually—had frozen some place in between flight and moving forward. Moving at all seemed an impossible task, no matter how her heart jumped and juddered.

“You could always go back,” Hearthorne said lightly, as though what she was saying was nothing of consequence.

“Back?”

“Yes. Back to the pot sitting empty on your keeper’s window sill. It’s still there, you know.”

With great effort, Kya managed to turn her head enough to look Hearthorne in the face. “But what of our bargain?”

The faerie-flower shrugged her leaves. “What good is a bargain that doesn’t have a back door if things get too messy?”

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Moon Bait (Part 2)

Curiosities-of-the-Moon-Curiosities-1-Kindle“Yes. The familiars serve the witches.” She gathered the cloak close about herself, careful to keep the hem from dragging or catching on any of the needles. She wanted to make sure she returned the cloak in exactly the state she’d borrowed it in.

“If you’re sure.” He grinned at her before resuming the course he had chosen.

The cat walked for a time, leading her along a path that only he could see, for he certainly didn’t follow any of the trails crisscrossing the forest for very long. Every so often he’d stop and clean his paws, watching her through glowing eyes as he did.

On the third such stop, rather than sitting down, he remained upright, his ears straining at the night. “I think I have need of the first favor,” he said without turning around.

Wordlessly, the moon lifted the hood from her face, washing the forest about them with her silver light. Without warning, the cat darted off to the right and ran up the side of a tree as though the earth’s pull had no permission to impede his movements.

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Mira Morganstein: The Pink Lemonade Club 004

Old Woman

MMCoverMira hugged her book of fairy tales to her chest, willing herself to fall between the pages into a land where fairies were real and goose girls could become princesses. Where fifth graders could be out doing heroic and magical things instead of being forced to endure fractions, decimals, and figuring out where Timbuktu lived on a map.

“Deep in the forest,” she whispered to herself, “lived two sisters. One as fair as the morning, the other dark as night. They lived with their mother in a forest glen, these two sisters: Rose Red and Snow White.”

Her backpack bumped comfortably against her as her stride and the story weaving itself through her mind and across her tongue all fell into rhythm. Her favorite time of the day, besides that silver hour when the world held its breath in between day and night, was the walk home from school.

It was then when she could be any princess she chose to, fall into any fairy tale she fancied, with no one to look over her shoulder or eye her disapprovingly from the front of the classroom. There were no chores for her to do—not yet—and her homework could wait.

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