Weeping Willow, cry! No more. The wolves will keep you... In good company.
Beneath her fingers, Percie felt the spine of her book crack and peel. She wondered how many times she had read it, but the only sufficient answer she could arrive at was 'not enough.' Outside, a quiet night symphony was building. A light howl in the wind whispered desires through the air and crackled the crisp autumn leaves that dangled carelessly from branches, plotting their winter descent.
Their tongues will burn, I thought, as though they had eaten fire. Their throats will burn when the words come out and in their bellies they will feel a torment hotter than a thousand fires.
(Based on Grimms' Sleeping Beauty) It had been only a single gasp of air that alerted her to the trouble.
(A re-imagining of Grimm's Rapunzel) It began with a peculiar blossom. The winter had been long and frigid and barren, but for a tiny blossoming plant outside her window.
Smile, sucralose sweet; Assaultingly artificial. Eyes, whispering half truths in the dark. Mouth, filled to the brim; Spilling over with things said and not said. Glare as sharp as knives. Tongue spoiling into venom. Behind that smile, A sugary death awaits.
Books!... And HALLOWEEN