Fairy Stories & Other Tales

Once upon a time a woman walked, hunched and bent, into the middle of a field. A storm was brewing. She could feel the creaking of the forest around the field as it braced itself for the squall. And then, it came. The wind blew and it gusted and it galed, but she simply stood in the midst of it, her hands clenched in fists at her side.     The rain came and went. Lightening flickered and thunder crashed. The wind began to whirl, and the force of it was enough to make the woman's body shake.     Still, she stood.     The storm ended.     The woman lifted her head as she left the field. Her steps were strong, her back straight. She showed no sign of the wearying hours she had spent in the throws of the weather.     She walked into her cottage, sat down in a chair, and smiled.      All was calm.

Once upon a time a young woman lived in the forest. She made herself a home there, and though it was simply put together, she was happy to have anyone to tea.     Simplicity made it  a lovely place to take tea. It was filled with all the wonder of the forest: welcoming rooms of perfect moss and wood, curious windows that looked out onto views filled with forest wonder, places for dancing, places for reading, and, of course, a marvelously golden room that hosted a large silver teapot perfect for afternoon guests.     A fell wind came through the forest one night and crumpled her home to the ground.     The rooms were felled by broken trees, the windows crushed to powder, and the silver teapot destroyed beyond repair. No room, no wall, no decor stood between her and the forest.     Scrounging through the rubble, the woman found an unblemished pot - a saucepan made for stirring small portions of savory nothings.      She filled the pot with water, built a fire amongst the ruins of her hom

 There was a witch. And she was young and lovely.     This was a problem, of course. Witches should not be lovely. They should be old and haggard, however benevolent their heart. There was a witch. And she was old and haggard.     This was a problem, of course. Witches would do better in the general public eye if they are young and lovely. There was a witch, and she was tired and on the bitter side of sweet.     This was a problem, of course. Witches are always better taken with when they are robustly kind. There was a witch, and she was jolly and good.     This was a problem, of course. Witches are always taken more seriously if they show how hard they've work with a piercing gaze.  There was a witch.     This was a problem, of course. There were witches. There still are.     As it happens, they eat problems for breakfast.

 Once upon a time there was a goblin with a face that looked as though it had been bashed in with a shoe. One eye barely opened, and the other bugged out. The skin of his cheeks was mottled and had a tendency to be both flaky and greasy at the same time. His skull was higher on one side of his head than the other, and his large ears were equally lopsided. And on top of all this, he was missing a good half of his teeth, the half remaining being yellowed, rotted, and jagged.     But none of this mattered, because he was kind.     And that is the end of the lesson.