A Reader Doesn't Really See The Characters

You Know, It's A Funny Thing About Writers. Most People Don't Stop To Think Of Books Being Written By People Much Like Themselves. They Think That Writers Are All Dead Long Ago--they Don't Expect To Meet Them In The Street Or Out Shopping. They Know Their Stories But Not Their Names, And Certainly Not Their Faces. And Most Writers Like It That Way.

The Fairy's Dress Rustled As She Turned. Human Women Dressed Like Flowers, Layers Of Petals Around A Mortal, Rotting Core.

The Night Swallowed Him Up Like A Thieving Fox.

Her Curiosity Was Too Much For Her. She Felt Almost As If She Could Hear The Books Whispering On The Other Side Of The Half-open Door. They Were Promising Her A Thousand Unknown Stories, A Thousand Doors Into Worlds She Had Never Seen Before.

When The Heart Craved Something So Forcefully, Then Reason Became Nothing But Helpless Observer.