The witch knew who had killed her and she snatched pieces of time, here and there, from the business of dying, to make her revenge.
Kelly LinkTag: death magic fairy-tale witch
Consider
a girl who keeps slipping off,
arms limp as old carrots,
into the hypnotist's trance,
into a spirit world
speaking with the gift of tongues.
Tag: fairy-tale hypnosis sleeping-beauty briar-rose
All four of them looked at Diane as if she had said Kendel had just returned from her trip and had brought them a unicorn skeleton.
Beverly ConnorTag: humor fairy-tale
It was not until much later when, after a deep and satisfying orgasm, I suddenly realised the true meaning of the fairy tale and the nature of the magic kiss of which it speaks.
Germaine GreerTag: sexuality fairy-tale
In Pliny I read about the invention of clay modeling. A Sicyonian potter came to Corinth. There his daughter fell in love with a young man who had to make frequent long journeys away from the city. When he sat with her at home, she used to trace the outline of his shadow that a candle’s light cast on the wall. Then, in his absence she worked over the profile, deepening, so that she might enjoy his face, and remember. One day the father slapped some potter’s clay over the gouged plaster; when the clay hardened he removed it, baked it, and "showed it abroad" (63).
Annie DillardTag: story myth legend muslim shadow fairy-tale fable tale folk-tale
When a fairy tale ends a new one starts. Close your eyes and say ‘once upon a time’ with me; who knows we may catch the beginning of a fairy tale which will bless us with a happy ending.”
By T. Afsin Ilgar - Ted`s Tale
Tag: love dreams dream happy-ending fairy-tale
A trail made of pine needles and thistles leads you into the green darkness. The canopy casts shadows on old oaks and dogwoods, and you think you can smell the sour breath of a witch behind you. The wind sighs like a sleeping girl, carrying her bittersweet dreams along the paths to attract any man willing to look for thorn-covered castles. A wolf darts between fallen, rotted wood; maybe he’s the one who can tell you where your heart is, how you’re still breathing.
Kimberly KaraliusTag: forest fairy-tale woods whimsy pocket-forest
She squinted at his nametag. Her eyes weren't quite working. "What's your name?"
"Stig."
"Stick?" she asked, half ready to believe it.
He shook his head and pointed his long index finger at the name stitched on his uniform. "S-T-I-G. Stig."
Harriet's breath caught. "I can't believe it. I've been looking for you.
Tag: magic names fairy-tale dialogue first-meeting mispronounce
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