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Beatrix Cottonpants and her stories are moving to their very own home at beatrixcottonpants.com. Follow her there for more fables and fairy tales and more screwed up beyond recognition, plau new and exciting features to come!
Once upon a time, a man tried to fix his window while his three very cold daughters waited inside. Unfortunately, this particular man had never been good at fixing certain things, and the window turned out to be one of those things.
The situation became so desperate that the man resorted to asking anyone who walked by to help him out with the window. The first passer by to agree was a tall, broad shouldered polar bear, who happened to be very good indeed at fixing windows.
“Thank you, kind bear!” the man said when he was done. “Is there anything I can do for you in return?”
Yes, there was, the bear answered. And then he demanded the man’s youngest daughter for his wife.
When she was informed, tearfully, by her father about the arrangement, she just shrugged and agreed to go.
At this point, the narrator feels obligated to share with you certain information: the two elder daughters were dancers, famous throughout their town for their skill. And their younger sister, the one who agreed to go with the polar bear, was always their choreographer.
This is important because as soon as the girl reached her new home, she found a large crowd of bears waiting to be instructed in dancing. You see, the polar bears had long been at war with the penguins, and it had been decided centuries ago that the only way to resolve the conflict would be through a dance off.
The time for the dance off was drawing near, and the bears had no dance.
And so, the girl thought up a dance, and spent her days and some of her nights teaching it to the bears and having them run through the routine again and again. After some time, she discovered that she was actually quite happy living among the bears.
However, she still longed to see her family. When she thought to discuss her wishes with the bear, he agreed, but gave her one stipulation: she was not to tell her mother about the dance off, or the penguins.
And so the girl went home, and was received with much happiness and many hugs. She stayed up long into the night with her family, and before the sun came up, she told her mother about the dance off. And the penguins.
“That’s silly,” her mother said. “Polar bears live at the North Pole, and penguins at the South Pole. How can they dance against each other?”
The bear was cross indeed when he heard that the girl had told her mother, and what her mother had said.
“Now that that’s been pointed out to us, we will have to travel east of the sun and west of the moon, to where the penguins live.”
It was a very long journey, and the girl became worried that not all of the bears would make it. Every single one was vital for the routine.
Luckily, every bear survived the trip, and they danced their hardest and their fastest, and their routine looked even better than the choreographer could have imagined.
However, they did lose to the penguins. Penguins are fantastic dancers.
The End
Source: East of the Sun and West of the Moon, Asbjornsen and Moe
Once upon a time, an ant and a grasshopper made an alliance.
You see, the winter was coming, and had promised, in writing, to be especially harsh that year. So many animals and insects and fish were forming alliances to get through the season.
Several times during the summer, and then during the fall, the ant attempted to get the grasshopper to meet with him and set down assignments for each to accomplish. However, the grasshopper always begged forgiveness and told the ant they’d meet another day.
By the time the winter finally came, the ant realized he had done all the work: he’d collected the food, prepared the food, stored the food, and made several special dishes that had been taught to him by his mother. The grasshopper, however, had done no work at all.
So one cold day, when the grasshopper was watching his soaps, there was a knocking on the door. The grasshopper gladly opened it. He had been anxiously awaiting the food provided by the ant.
Instead, he found the ant waiting with just his hoe.
The ant proceeded to beat the grasshopper with the hoe then, again and again until he lay bloody and twitching on the floor. After a while, he did toss him in the back of his van and take him to the hospital.
And so the grasshopper survived with only a few scars and a lifelong fear of hoes, but he never took advantage of the ant again.
The End.
Source: The Ant and the Grasshopper, Aesop’s Fables.
Once upon a time, a dog named Porpoise lived in a very large, very nice house. He wasn’t the cleverest dog ever, but he was loyal and fierce and had nice shining fur, so that was okay.
Sometimes, when Porpoise had no intruders to scare away, or dog food to eat, he liked to explore his big nice house. He almost always found something he’d never seen before, or at least something he’d found once and forgotten about.
One day, he was exploring a new room when, passing by something shiny and silver, he encountered something he’d not seen before: another dog.
It was most certainly a male, a brown dog with black ears and a fluffy tail. But it was snarling, and looked ready to attack.
Porpoise began to growl back, but was interrupted when his owner came in, patted him on the head, and laughed about him growling at the mirror.
As he left the room, he was sure he saw the mirror dog turn into a hippopotamus.
The following day, he walked back up to the mirror, where the dog was waiting. But this time, his smaller owner came and made him go outside and play. This time, the dog thought he saw a rhinoceros watching him leave.
But that night, Porpoise made sure no one else was awake when he returned to the mirror. And the mirror dog was there, waiting, and it seemed to smile.
Porpoise barked and he growled, and his hackles went up, and the mirror dog just snarled and growled and paced.
Not knowing what else to do, the dog took his favorite toy, a light blue kitty and hit it against the mirror.
There was a thud, and a thwack, and a small crack appeared on the mirror. And the mirror dog ran away with its tail between its legs. As it ran, the dog thought it saw it turn into something smaller and softer, with sharper claws and pointy ears.
But his job was done, so Porpoise went downstairs, and slept on the couch until the sun came up.
The End
© Beatrix Cottonpants Original
Once upon a time, a wicked man had seven kittens. There were more kittens then he could feed, so he made the rash decision of taking them out into the woods and letting them fend for themselves.
But later the very night he managed to do so, all seven kittens appeared in the windows,meowing and flicking their tails. Kittens, of course, are naturally good at finding their way home again.
The next time, the man made sure to take the kittens out during the day, when they were naturally more sleepy.
And so the kittens woke up later that night without any idea where they were, and most began to panic and fret. But the tiniest kitten told them to shut up, and promised he would rescue them. First, he demanded the other kittens bring him a glass of water, and a nice Hat, with a pretty design on it. Once that had been accomplished, he led them on a long winding trail through the woods, until they reached a cabin.
The tiniest kitten walked up first, and looked through the window until he was certain only a friendly looking woman was inside. Then he mewled at the door in his tiniest voice, until she got up and opened the door.
“Now!” he called, and all of the other kittens ran into the house through the friendly woman’s feet, and hid behind or between various pieces of furniture.
She grumbled quite a lot over the next few hours, but still left some cat food out before she went to sleep.
But the next morning, there was a stomping, and a thumping, and a grumbling that went through the entire house, and the tiniest kitten could just about see a giant bird stomp into the room, and demand a meal of kittens from his mother.
You see, the friendly woman had not mentioned that she had a son who happened to be a giant bird, nor that he enjoyed the taste of kittens above all other foods.
So the tiniest kitten gave the signal, and the kittens dashed through the door again. Some ran very fast, and some hid in trees and bushes and discarded shoes, and some weaved between the giant bird’s feet.
Now, before the giant bird had begun to chase the kittens, he made sure to put on his magical boots, which helped him run very fast indeed, but also made his long spindly legs move in a funny way.
So he sort of pranced along after the kittens, until they reached the woods.
In the woods, things changed.
Birds are the natural prey of kittens, and in the woods, they began to stalk the large bird, pouncing on his boots and saying mean things about his appearance, until the bird was reduced to a weeping mess, and the kittens had his magical boots.
It was decided that the tiniest kitten deserved the wonderful boots most of all, and he sold them on ebay for so much money he was able to buy himself and the other kittens a mansion in the mountains. They never heard from the giant bird, or his sneaky mother, again.
The End.
Source: Tom Thumb, Brothers Grimm
Once upon a time, a guy named Thad was sleeping under a tree, trying to avoid his dog. He had only slept for maybe and hour or two when he was rudely awakened by someone standing over him and making many obnoxious throat clearing noises.
He was about to be very mad indeed, but he found that it was not his dog, asking him to do the dishes, after all; it was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
In the most beautiful voice he had ever heard, she told him that if he could guess who she was, she would take him home with her.
“Are you…my mother?” he asked, which was really sort of a silly question, as he knew his mother was home with the dog, probably washing the dishes.
“Are you..Madonna?” he asked.
“Do you speak of the Virgin Mary?”
“No, the singer.”
The lady shook her head.
“Are you…the lady from up the hill?”
“Close enough.”
She pulled Thad up on her horse with her, and they galloped away. As they rode, she explained that she was the Queen of Faerie, and that he was very lucky indeed, since she had chosen him to be her mortal lover.
As they rode, she pointed out three paths: the path to Heaven, the path to Hell, and the path they would ride on, which led to Faerie.
“What’s that path?” Thad asked, pointing to an overgrown road next to the one they had turned down.
“That one leads to Creepy Jim’s house.” the Queen informed him. “I wouldn’t go down that path.”
As they rode, Thad was sure they passed through meadows of guts and jumped over gates made of bone. But the lady held him, and told him he would reside in Faerie with her for but seven years, and as long as he ate nothing, nor spoke not a word, he would return home with the gift of prophecy, and the inability to lie. However, if he did eat or speak, he must remain in Faerie forever.
And so they rode into Faerie, where courtiers and horses greeted them with songs and cheer.
As they stopped, Thad reached into a basket of baked goods offered to him and bit into a cupcake. “Hey guys,” he said. “What’s up?”
The Queen of Faerie began to feel as though she’d made a grave error, indeed.
The End.
Source: Thomas the Rhymer
Once upon a time, a woman was driving alone, thinking about chickens, when she very nearly ran her car right into Something.
When she used the rear view mirror to investigate, she saw only a very pale young girl in a very white dress standing just off the side of the road.
She must be looking for a ride, the woman figured, and backed up to pick the girl up.
For a few miles, they made some attempt at conversation, but the girl gave short answers, and vague ones. Finally, the woman, just managing not to ask her why she was so pale and wouldn’t she like a tan, thought to ask her just where her home actually was.
The girl explained that it was on the hill, just past the graveyard, and then the woman Knew.
And so, despite the girl’s protests that the house was on the hill, and not in the graveyard itself, the woman left her at the entrance to the graveyard, and was too creeped out to watch her make her way back “home”, or, indeed, give her back the sweater she had left on the passenger seat.
But in the light of the next day, things seemed less scary, so she made her way back to the graveyard, thinking to lay the sweater down by the ghost girl’s grave. However, after realizing she did not know the girl’s name or date of birth, she decided instead to take the sweater to her parents.
Two people opened the door, and as she expressed sorrow for their loss, and tried to explain the otherwordly way in which she’d gotten the sweater, she thought she could see the girl behind them, scowling and trying to say something.
The couple mostly looked confused, and eventually, the girl declared that she was giving up, and was going to go back inside and watch TV. Still, the woman felt confident that she had done a Good Thing, and even so, resolved not to pick up hitchhikers without tans ever again.
The End.
Source: The Pretty Girl in the Road, American folktale.
A Story About a Doll, a Witch, A Girl, and her Lover (Almost) by Guest Storyteller Marie Selavy.
For the beginning: VasiRiesa the Brave, VasiRiesa the Brave, Tale the Second, and VasiRiesa the Brave, Tale the Third
“Never fear,” said the Assistant of the Evening, drawn up to her full height. “We thank you for completing these tasks, for if she had dined on you, the work would have fallen to us. We shall keep you safe!”
With that, she guided the other two assistants, Vasiriesa, and the doll onto her bookcart, and they took off swiftly and bumpily down the hill, narrowly averting the flames that followed them, joined by a crowd of squirrels, a flock of pigeons, and a hoard of grad students. They rode off far, far from the University, until the flames were a mere blazing mote in the distance. To Vasiriesa’s surprise, when she stood and stretched a large, oblong white object gently rolled to her feet. She picked it up, and laughed as she realized what it was–a gift from the hut, for her devotion.
“Good riddance to that,” said the Assistant of the Day, “Now we shall seek our own fortunes.”
The Assistant of the Evening laughed, “Now that I am a free woman, I will fulfill my dream of working in the Queen’s Library. If it agrees with you, I shall take these grad students to the palace as a reward for their hard labor.”
“Yes,” said Vasiriesa, “that sounds lovely.”
“And I will go back to the city, and found a library for all its children. If you don’t mind, I’d like if the pigeons came with me, to help with the shelving and deliveries.” The Assistant of the Day smiled warmly, and patted a dove that lit on her shoulder.
“Yes,” said Vasiriesa, “and I will visit the moment you are open.”
The Assistant of the Dawn said nothing, but merely beamed in a dreamy way. Vasiriesa lost all coherent thought, until the beautiful woman spoke.
“And I,” said the woman, “I am still figuring out where to seek my fortune.”
“Shall we seek it together?” Vasiriesa scuffed the ground while the doll hid her face in her tiny carved palms.
The Assistant of the Dawn smiled sadly. “I am flattered, but I am betrothed to a carpenter in the North, amongst the students and gentleman farmers and Green Folk. I have not seen her in nearly a year, and miss her with all my heart. However, I will remember you fondly if you let me take the squirrels, and give them a comfortable home in the forest.”
“Yes,” said Vasiriesa, “And if you ever need help, never hesitate to look for Vasiriesa the Brave!”
The four women parted. The Assistant of the Dawn headed North, was reunited with her lover, and became a University Librarian of great fame and renown. Her squirrel sanctuary was the finest in the land, with a veritable paradise of felled wood designed by her carpenter wife. The Assistant of the Day went west, to a large city with many children run amok. While introducing them to the magic of literature was no small task, the children adored her flock of feathered helpers, as well as the sarcastic, big-eyed, purple-haired poppet who ran the reference desk.The Assistant of the Evening journeyed South, and found life in the Queen’s Library exhausting but fulfilling. The Queen was especially proud of her tireless graduate students, always handy to look up facts or type a letter or just deliver a potted plant to the Duchess.
Vasiriesa went the farthest of all. She took a boat East, all the way across the ocean, where she studied in a very fine University indeed. The hut’s egg hatched into the dearest yellow fluffy dollhouse one could ever ask for, and by the time Vasiriesa had a Doctor of Letters, it had grown into a fine hut, indeed. She settled in the countryside, translated magical tomes, cooked fine soups and pastry, and taught the young people of the village in odd and clever ways. Tales carried across the sea of Vasiriesa the Brave.
The Famous Author was perturbed at the lack of a daughter when he returned from his tour, perturbed enough to write a book about the experience, but not perturbed enough to search for her. The Brilliant Musician made him a happy man, until she reached middle age and he took off with a Mad Violin-Playing Faerie Strumpet. The Beautiful Roadies found themselves groupies of their own, but discovered their care and upkeep was tedious and often disturbing. The youngest Roadie wondered if there wasn’t something to Vasiriesa lighting them on fire.
They all, more or less, lived happily ever after.
The End.
Source: Vasilisa the Fair, Alexander Afanasev. Also, somewhat inspired by Psyche and Eros.
About our Guest Storyteller:
Marie Selavy might have some experience with demanding graduate assistant-ship, but she doesn’t want to talk about that. She’d rather talk about Australian books, pretty girls, guerrilla art, or how to make a mushroom out of a paper bag. You can find her all over the internet: for her collection of whimsical odds and ends, take a look at her blog, girlsbooksfoodartlove, or for book reviews and more, check out Leaving Shangri L.A. Plus, she’s good at balancing things on her head, and wishes there were a way to advertise that as a saleable skill for librarians.
A Story About a Doll, a Witch, A Girl, and her Lover (Almost) by Guest Storyteller Marie Selavy.
For the beginning: VasiRiesa the Brave and VasiRiesa the Brave, Tale the Second
While she gardened in the late afternoon, she spotted another young woman pushing a heavy bookcart up the next hill. This one was small with hair like a wren, smiling genially behind black spectacles despite the immense weight of her cart. Vasiriesa wondered what brought students so far to the outskirts of campus, but wisely decided to hold her tongue.
Baba Yaga returned in the late eve, and nodded with approval at the clean home and fluffy roof. “You’ve succeeded once again, Vasiriesa,” she sighed, “and it’s a shame, because that means you will have to cook supper. However, the last task of all will surely mean meat for my table tomorrow. I have created a list of every student admitted to the university, and every student who has been passed over. Tomorrow, you must write to them and inform them of their luck, or lack of it–and tomorrow, I shall finally have meat for dinner!”
Then she laughed.
The little doll had another good dinner, as Vasiriesa chewed off her fingernails, eying her toes in a manner that disturbed the good doll. “For heaven’s sake, Vasiriesa! You’ll waste away to nothing!”
“But those letters without end! I can understand the squirrels and their sorting, and the birds and their swift delivery, but whoever could help me with such a tedious, thankless task?”
“Trust me, Vasiriesa,” said the doll, wiping tomato soup from her carved nose, “I’ve helped you before, and I shall help you on the third day. Now, if you’re not eating that pie….”
Vasiriesa slept soundly, waking so early that Baba Yaga was still getting ready to leave, chortling to herself in the wee hours of the morning. She glanced out the window, and saw a third woman carting heavy books up the nearest, steepest hill. Though her fair hair stuck up in every direction, Vasiriesa thought her the most lovely of the three girls who had passed on that hill.
“That is my future bride!” she told the doll.
“Oh no. No, no, this is not a good development. At least you’ll make a nice goulash.”
Vasiriesa paid her no mind. The beauty of the third woman stayed with her while she polished every piece of furniture and fed shocks of corn to the quietly clucking house. The doll’s reminder of the third, most impossible task hit her like a thunderclap.
“All those letters!” she cried. “I am goulash for sure!”
“You think after the pigeon bit, you would have trusted me, but such is the life of a poppet.” The doll sighed, and whistled out the window a third time.
Imagine Vasiriesa’s joy as the lawn filled with graduate students!
There were tall students, short students, students of every color and creed. Male students, female students, and quite a few that were something in between. There were centaurs and fairies and even a peaky looking vampire who glimmered dully in the bright sun. All wore open, excited expressions and practical clothing, their arms filled with books and quills and notepaper.
Vasiriesa had a busy day overseeing the grad students’ work, but they were eager to please. All the letters were finished by sundown, and Baba Yaga’s return was hailed with a shower of official white letters, ready to be mailed to students all over the world the next morning.
“Nicely done, Vasiriesa,” she said, settling into an easy chair while the girl served her supper. “Though I was looking forward to a nice stew, this is better than having to finish all those letters myself. In return for your loyalty and hard work, you may ask me three questions. But if you ask the wrong ones, you will grow old and haggard before your time, and people will run from the sight of you.”
Then she laughed.
Vasiriesa thought long and hard about how to plumb the depths of her knowledge, and decided that the simplest questions would be the safest. “If it pleases you, Baba Yaga,” she asked, “who is the tall woman who pushes books up the hill at night?”
Baba Yaga laughed. “She is my Assistant of the Evening, and she is the most cunning and clever.”
“Then, if you please, who is the spectacled woman who pushes books up the hill in the afternoon?”
“She is my Assistant of the Day, and she is the most gentle and kind.”
Vasiriesa blushed delicately at the last question. “Then, if you please, Baba Yaga, who is the woman who pushes books up the hill in the earliest morning?”
“She is my Assistant of the Dawn, and she is the most brilliant.”
Then she laughed.
“Then with utmost respect, most Baba of Yagas,” said Vasiriesa, “I wish for your blessing to court and wed the Assistant of the Dawn, so we may serve you together.”
Baba Yaga did not laugh.
“Blessing? I give no blessings!” Sparks flew from her cloud of hair. “So this is why you come, to take my best and brightest Assistant from me? Begone with you, and if it’s fire you want, fire you shall get!”
Baba Yaga summoned a ball of flame, and Vasiriesa would have likely been barbecued if the hut had not spat her out quickly, sending her flying right into the group of three Assistants, who breaked for coffee together in the early evening.
“You have to help me!” she cried, “Baba Yaga has turned on me!”
The End. For now…
Source: Vasilisa the Fair, Alexander Afanasev. Also, somewhat inspired by Psyche and Eros.
About our Guest Storyteller:
Marie Selavy might have some experience with demanding graduate assistant-ship, but she doesn’t want to talk about that. She’d rather talk about Australian books, pretty girls, guerrilla art, or how to make a mushroom out of a paper bag. You can find her all over the internet: for her collection of whimsical odds and ends, take a look at her blog, girlsbooksfoodartlove, or for book reviews and more, check out Leaving Shangri L.A. Plus, her proudest moment was being chased off the grounds of the Alice Austen House on a date.
A Story About a Doll, a Witch, A Girl, and her Lover (Almost) by Guest Storyteller Marie Selavy.
For the beginning: VasiRiesa the Brave
“I smell a neophyte! Fresh blood and untainted mind! Who dares set foot upon the home of Baba Yaga?” she boomed.
Then she laughed.
Vasiriesa quaked in her sturdy, practical boots. The doll took the opportunity to hide in Vasiriesa’s tall, red hair.
“It is only I, Vasiriesa. My stepmother’s Beautiful Roadies snuffed the light in our cottage, and I vowed to bring back the finest light of all.”
“The finest light you shall have,” said Baba Yaga, “But at a price. You will work as my Assistants do, or I shall eat you for supper.”
Then she laughed.
Vasiriesa was put to work immediately. She was ordered to dust the shelves, and varnish the bookcase, and arrange Baba Yaga’s treasured University Almanacs by year.
“You have done well enough,” said Baba Yaga when the girl had finished. (The doll still hid, trembling, in Vasiriesa’s red pompadour). “But you will have to do even better tomorrow. While I am gone, you shall sweep the hut, and trim its toenails, and then you must go into my files of University Records and separate the letters I have sent, and the letters sent to me.”
Then she laughed.
Baba Yaga presently began to snore, occasionally chuckling in her sleep. Vasiriesa fed the doll the few bits she could spare of her meager dinner of chickpeas and beets.
“Thanks, I think. Now, Vasiriesa, why are you snuffling in that unbecoming manner?”
“Because I am frightened that Baba Yaga will cook me for supper–have you seen the records? There must be hundreds of years worth!”
“Don’t worry, kid. I got your back. Go to sleep and dream of something better than this, because in the morning we have a lot of work ahead of us.”
Vasiriesa peered outside, and was surprised to see a tall, strapping woman pushing a cart of books over the next hill. Her hair was as dark as a raincloud, and she wore a look of sturdy determination throughout her Sisyphean task. Puzzled, she settled down to sleep.
In the morning, Baba Yaga left sticky notes on all of the tasks Vasiriesa was to accomplish, so she would not forget a one. Sweeping the hut was not too bad, even though it tended to be ticklish, and cutting its toenails was easy after the doll scrounged a pair of pruning shears. However, the last task nearly set her to tears again.
“You’re awfully weepy today. Didn’t I say I would help you?” The doll leapt from her perch atop Vasiriesa’s head and whistled out the window. “Wait and see who shall come to help with your task.”
Vasiriesa looked out the window. To her wild surprise, dozens of squirrels gathered round the hut, gingerly climbing the giant yellow legs and chittering about the windows and door. There were red squirrels, and grey, and the especially cute kind with tufty ears and big eyes. All were sleek and fat and happy, due to a healthy diet of student leftovers and slow freshmen.
They set to work, carefully separating the official letters sent to Baba Yaga from the ones sent from her hut. (How, you ask? While most of the squirrels couldn’t read, they were quite good at sniffing out the different sorts of wax seals. Though a few had to be dissuaded from nibbling on them, they made short work of the pile.)
“Oh, thank you, squirrels!” Vasiriesa beamed at the tidy files and sparkling clean kitchen. “I will find a way to repay you, I swear it.”
The squirrels waved, and showed themselves out just in time for Baba Yaga to return. She looked round the clean cottage and tidy filing, and nodded in approval.
“I shall not have to eat you tonight, Vasiriesa, and that’s good, for I have more work for you. In the morning, I will need you to clean my hut, and preen the roof, and furthermore, you will need to deliver these minutes to every department on campus!” She swept her arm, revealing piles of thousands of packets from the University’s latest meeting. “And if you cannot finish, I’ll just have you for supper!”
Then she laughed.
Vasiriesa could barely touch her dinner, so nervous was she at the prospect of the morrow’s task. (The doll finished her quinoa and cranberries with relish.) Filing was one thing, but the University spread out as far as the eye could see, and a glance at the department headings revealed that there were countless professors for the most esoteric of subjects. How could she ever deliver them all in time?
“Stop sniveling,” said the doll. “I promised to help you, and help you I will. Now, go to sleep, cause we will work hard on the morrow.”
Baba Yaga had left in the wee hours of the morning, so Vasiriesa was alone once again within the chicken-legged hut. Dusting the little hut was not hard at all, even with all the stacks of parchment about, and the hut crowed in such pleasure at having its roof-feathers preened that Vasiriesa couldn’t help but smile. Her good mood lasted until she remembered the endless piles of minutes to deliver.
The doll sighed. “Haven’t you learned to trust me?” She tossed her long purple braids, and whistled out the window. In the blink of an eye, the sky was filled with–pigeons! Not just the common grey sort, but brown and white and black pigeons, and even the odd lost seagull. They roosted in the nooks and crannies of the hut, but not for long, as the doll and Vasiriesa soon set them to delivering each of the minutes right to the desk of the honored professors, thanking each bird in turn. So swiftly was the work finished that Vasiriesa could pause before supper and trim the bracken-nest.
The End. For now…
Source: Vasilisa the Fair, Alexander Afanasev. Also, somewhat inspired by Psyche and Eros.
About our Guest Storyteller:
Marie Selavy might have some experience with demanding graduate assistant-ship, but she doesn’t want to talk about that. She’d rather talk about Australian books, pretty girls, guerrilla art, or how to make a mushroom out of a paper bag. You can find her all over the internet: for her collection of whimsical odds and ends, take a look at her blog, girlsbooksfoodartlove, or for book reviews and more, check out Leaving Shangri L.A. Plus, the pinnacle of her artistic achievement was hanging stick notes with doodles in the bathroom at the MET.
