I was the kind of child who always looked for fairies dancing on the grass. I wanted to believe in witches, wizards, ogres, giants and enchanted spells. I didn’t want all of the magic taken out of the world by scientific explorations.
I was the kind of child who’d always looked for fairies dancing on the grass. I wanted to believe in witches, wizards, ogres, giants and enchanted spells. I didn’t want all of the magic taken out of the world by scientific explanation.
Why did the stars seem to be looking down at me with pity, making me feel ant-sized, overwhelmed, completely insignificant? It was too big, that close sky, too beautiful, and it filled me with a strange sense of foreboding.
“I’m terrified of my grandson and granddaughter entering into an incestuous relationship, so to prevent this, I’m going to lock them up together in the small attic where their only company is each other then act all shocked when they inevitably develop romantic feelings.” the grandmother in Flowers in the Attic essentially.
Christ, wouldn’t it have made more sense to send one of them off to boarding school or something?
“People use the color yellow to symbolize hope. Yellow. Like the sun we rarely saw. When I was very young, I thought life would be like one, long and perfect summer day; after all, it started out that way. We were four beautiful children with blonde hair and porcelain skin. People said we looked like those fancy Dresden dolls that grace shelves and mantles — only we weren't just admired, we were really loved. But that was before. Life is full of surprises, my mother used to say… and greed and fear and shame, as I soon learned. And hopelessness. We never colored even one of our paper flowers yellow.”