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Check out Kate's fabulous finds that you can enjoy, too! This week's pick: A Bit of British Reading I’ve always liked Queen Elizabeth II and have found the royal family interesting historically and quite the reality show in the present day. So I was sad when the Queen died, and the events surrounding her death brought me back to reading—as most things do. I love reading actual history but especially love historical novels. I first discovered them in the book Katherine, by Anya Seton, and I’ve never looked back. Jean Plaidy was also responsible for my obsession with historical fiction as a tween. She wrote dozens of historical novels, usually containing tales of royalty (almost always women), written in the first person. To find her books, just check out her Goodreads page. Plaidy wrote series about the Plantagenets, the Tudors, the Stuarts, etc. They are intimate portraits of the thoughts and feelings of women as imagined by Plaidy, and they never fail to drag me into them. They are entertaining comfort food and feel strangely cozy for stories that often end in sadness and/or beheading. My particular favorite is Victoria Victorious, about my favorite interfering queen. (It’s also on Kindle.) Plaidy is only one of the pseudonyms used by Eleanor Burton Hibbert, for whom the word “prolific” feels inadequate. She also wrote as Phillipa Carr. For those of us of a certain age, those names will be familiar. The age issue is something to bring up here. Plaidy was a woman very much of her time. Her attitudes towards gender roles, for example, reflect that. So if you’re interested in reading her books, bear in mind that Eleanor Hibbert was born in 1906. I hope you’ll find this recommendation useful in this time of historical change in the UK. Have an enchanted week!

Editor's Note: Fracturing fairy tales is one of the most amusing and enjoyable ways to recast the stories. Heather Talty does a terrific job of explaining fracturing in this guest post from 2011. Find out more about her on her Goodreads page. In some ways, fracturing a fairy tale is just like fixing a car or performing surgery (though the stakes may not be quite as high): you take some things out, put some things in, or just tweak what’s already in there. When you’re done, you’re left with something that looks and acts like the original but isn’t entirely the same. Of course, this act of altering a traditional story has been done for centuries, by oral storytellers, collection building folklorists, and enterprising animated mice alike. But why fracture a fairy tale? Why take something that clearly works and break it apart and rebuild it with the risk of getting it wrong? Well, for a laugh. That’s one reason. Here’s another. Fracturing fairy tales can be a way to engage in a sort of dialogue with the story itself, and of course, with other readers. Just as a scholar might analyze a story, the writer of the fractured fairy tale might write a new one precisely to question interesting or baffling elements of the original. As a writer of fractured fairy tales, I often find myself writing stories to answer questions I have. If the princess of "The Giant Who Had No Heart in His Body" knows exactly how to defeat the giant, why does she need the prince to carry out the task? Isn’t it interesting that a “true princess,” a la "The Princess and the Pea," must be very finicky, sort of like a cat? Let’s take a look at this idea in action. In the introduction to The Rumpelstiltskin Problem (Houghton Mifflin, 2000), Vivian Vande Velde writes that the book emerged out of her realization that the original tale made no sense. Why, she wondered, did the miller make such an outrageous claim about his daughter’s ability? And why did the king believe him? Why did Rumpelstiltskin need a baby, anyway? Each short story in the book is an attempt to answer one or more of these questions. Maybe Rumpelstiltskin wanted to eat the baby. Maybe the whole spin straw into gold thing was just a metaphor, and things got out of hand. Maybe the miller’s daughter was in on it the whole time. Vande Velde also recently released Cloaked in Red, a similar approach to "Little Red Riding Hood." Gail Carson Levine, too, wrote a few books out of a desire to understand why. Her series of fractured fairy tales, The Princess Tales (Harper Collins, 1999-2002), often work to explain or flesh out fairy tales. She explains her motivations on her website in discussing her book, The Fairy’s Mistake. It isn’t likely, she posits, that a prince, coming upon a girl “blessed” with an inconvenient habit of spitting up valuable gems, would fall in love with her. More likely, he’s in it for the gems. The Fairy’s Mistake tells the story from that point of view. Her stories often attempt to explain how characters fall in love in fairy tales, or why they decide to undertake various quests (think the Prince’s long trek through the briar patch in "Sleeping Beauty"), giving them back-stories to make more sense. Through reading these books, and others like them, readers are exposed to both the questions the authors have about fairy tales and possible answers to those questions. But it’s always worth it to try it yourself. Take a fairy tale you love and rewrite it. Then take a step back and read over your own work. You might be surprised at what you learn about your favorite tale, and of course, yourself. Illustration by Florence Mary Anderson

Faerie Silver Iron Cold by Vic Malachi (publication date July 31, 2022) is everything a fantasy novel should be and more! The novel follows the life of a girl named Ciar who, after losing her mother to illness, is sent to live with her grandparents on the border of the faerie world. Ciar, called Collis in the old language, is a precocious child who accepts the local children’s dare to cross the stream into the Faerie Woods, meeting an unseelie faerie boy known as Mael. The two of them spend their days together, much to the horror of Ciar’s grandparents who fear the child will be spirited away to the faerie realm never to return. When Ciar turns thirteen, her absent aristocratic father arranges to send her to school in the city and, despite a promise from Mael that he will be waiting for her when she returns each summer, the unlikely pair do not see one another for five years. As Ciar comes of age and prepares to marry, Mael comes back into her life igniting a breathtaking adventure through the faerie world. Malachi’s prose is rich with otherworldly detail about faerie superstitions. Ciar and Mael are expertly drawn characters, and readers will delight in watching their relationship unfold over the years. The novel allows readers to cross the boundary between the human and faerie lands alongside Ciar as it explores the difference between striking a faerie bargain and making a conscious choice for love. I loved it! You can find the book HERE. Thank you to NetGalley for providing a free copy of the book in exchange for a fair review. Kelly Jarvis teaches classes in literature, writing, and fairy tale at Central Connecticut State University, The University of Connecticut, and Tunxis Community College. She lives, happily ever after, with her husband and three sons in a house filled with fairy tale books. She is also Enchanted Conversation’s special project’s writer.

Into the Woods by Lorraine Murphy drops readers into the frantic search for Paddy and Karen O’Hara’s eight-year-old deaf daughter Scarlett who disappears from the family home while her father is away on a trip for work and her mother is organizing a conference on a zoom call. Told through alternating first-person perspectives that share the personal feelings and motivations of key characters, this novel is a tense, addictive mystery that unfolds quickly on the page. I couldn’t stop reading! Beneath the plot is a meaningful exploration of the complexities of marriage and motherhood along with a searing commentary on the dangers and benefits of social media. Paddy and Karen’s relationship has always been fraught with difficulties, and both Paddy’s extramarital affairs and Karen’s struggles with postpartum depression and the demands of raising a special needs child come under scrutiny during the police investigation. Secondary characters round out the novel’s contemplation of adultery, mental illness, and motherhood as readers’ wait with bated breath for a resolution to the tragedy. The contemporary story is artfully framed by fairy tale references; Karen must learn to read hidden clues dropped like breadcrumbs and Scarlett must learn to play the role of the trickster to escape. Into the Woods is about all the things we fail to see and hear until we risk losing everything we love. You won’t be able to put it down! Thank you to NetGalley for a free copy of this book in exchange for a fair review. Kelly Jarvis teaches classes in literature, writing, and fairy tale at Central Connecticut State University, The University of Connecticut, and Tunxis Community College. She lives, happily ever after, with her husband and three sons in a house filled with fairy tale books.

The wind and the waves echoed her heart- constant and pure. The storm was her soul-wild and untamed... And when the tempest raged around her, she faced it until the rainbow appeared and a new beginning was born. While whispers of wind stirred echoes of the past and scattered thoughts of a different time and place through her mind. It was then that she formed her most powerful spell; The weather spell that no living creature could stop, and she once more remembered her true name. Mab stepped out of the shadows and her raindrop crown glittered with the power of eternal starlight. ~ A. Bergloff Weather echoes the human heart, and we are connected to it. The ever changing weather of the seasons brings calm days and turbulent ones, much like how our hearts can experience love and joy, and also, tribulation and sadness. It is through experiencing and enduring all aspects of the weather around us, and the seasons that we carry inside our hearts, that balance is found and the beautiful spell of life goes on. This month, The Fairy Tale Magazine is presenting two stories and three poems in the final issue in our series of "weather-works" for 2022 that explore some element of weather - from rain to wind to snow and beyond. So, please enjoy, and as always dear readers... Stay enchanted! - Kate, Amanda, and Kelly We wait at the borders for mortals to remember the reckoning of time .. The Weather Witches Kelly Jarvis My son wishes to wed the Moon's eldest daughter... Hounds of the Heavens Rose Q. Addams Our birthplaces crumble while we ride on swans' wings... The Snow Queens of Southern California Marisca Pichette Don't stir the pot, child, don't coax the wind or tempt the rain... Curious Emma Liz Bragdon The heat of summer continues to elude me... The Song of the Rain Faniyi Oluwatomiwa Elijah MUSIC Sharing some rainy, weather-themed classical music accompany this issue: ALL COPYRIGHT to the written works in this issue belong to the individual authors. Editor-in-Chief ~ Kate Wolford Art Director ~ Amanda Bergloff Special Projects Writer ~ Kelly Jarvis Cover Painting ~ by Frederic Leighton, 1892 Graphics ~ Amanda Bergloff

Once, they worshiped at our altars, Aware our anger might erupt in torrential winds and rains. It did not take much to garner our favor, An evening prayer, a sacrifice, a respectful offering Of sweet, honeyed wine. Our pleasure would ripen like the blossoming fields, And the days would give birth To sunshine and storm clouds, The balance that sustains. Now they worship at altars of greed and corruption, Murder our forests, pollute our waters with slime. Unloved, unfeared, we wait at the borders, For mortals to remember the reckoning of time. Unseen, we remain an unbreakable coven, Above and below the sick surface of earth. Our hot tempers blistering, Our salty tears melting, Our furious fevers rising, Our parched throats thirsting, For the cool, quenching, covenant Of sweet, honeyed wine. Kelly Jarvis teaches classes in literature, writing, and fairy tale at Central Connecticut State University, The University of Connecticut, and Tunxis Community College. She lives, happily ever after, with her husband and three sons in a house filled with fairy tale books. She is also Enchanted Conversation’s special project’s writer.

Once, when the world was young, a hermit dwelt in the desert. He had lived there all his life, wanting for nothing, for he was resourceful. In his youth, he’d earned his bread training and selling hounds to the lords of various manors. Now that his death drew nigh, he longed for an adventure. Each night he would retire to his bed, thinking it folly. But when the idea rekindled with each dawn, he finally purposed to go. He set out with a waterskin, a pair of sandals, and some bread in his bag. He walked eastward until his sandals were worn through. His stores ran out, but he survived on the fruit and juice of cacti. There was no sign of water, or mankind. When he found no plant nor animal for the third day in succession, he began to worry. Perhaps this was only an endless stretch of sand, burning under the high sun. Oh, how it burned! He had lived in the desert all his life, and still it burned so hot that his tongue cleaved to the roof of his mouth, and his vision shook. He took step after monotonous step, and finally he stumbled and did not rise. * * * “Good father, are you feeling better?” The gentle voice belonged to a lady with a bright smile and freckled skin. She gave him some water, and when he drank it her smile grew wider, making her the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. “I am glad. Not many make it to the Sun’s home and yet live. It’s lonely sometimes. But my husband returns soon, and you must be ready. His heat will harm you if you do not make haste.” She withdrew a bottle of ointment and began to apply it, speaking quickly. “My husband loves company, but does not realize Men are fragile. If you wear this, you can withstand his heat.” “But— how did I come to be here?” he stammered, mind reeling. “Our hound brought you here, I know not from where. We would be honored to have you as our guest.” How could he refuse? He was soon before a sumptuous table between the Sun and his wife. They ate and drank until the old man thought he would burst from the abundance. The hound, for its part, never left his side, and he slipped it choice bits throughout the feast. At the meal’s end, his host spoke. “Beasts know a man’s true character. I’ve never before seen my hound befriend one so quickly, and I would ask a boon of you. My son wishes to wed the Moon’s eldest daughter, but his time is consumed with preparing her apartments. Would you be willing to bring his suit before her, for our sake?” More than willing; a journey for love was noble indeed. The Sun was pleased with this answer, and gave him a scroll declaring the youth’s suit, some jewelry for the bride, and a pair of winged sandals, so that his journey might be swift. He left the next morning, following the silver road that the Sun pointed out to him. He followed it through a strange landscape; the Sun’s gardens faded behind him as the land became a shifting mass of blue and purple hills that became an endless sea all about him, then changed again to a great, dark sky through which the path cut through like a silver ribbon. He continued for some time. He did not tire easily, but the journey seemed endless, and his mind grew weary. So he ran. Once begun, he could not stop. The sandals sped faster and faster, at speeds that would trip even a youth, and he soon did— but he did not fall, for a great, shining dog appeared and caught him in its jaws, and set him upright once more. “I am Sirius, guide of men,” it said. “I am sorry I could not catch you earlier, for I had to keep in place until the Sun rose. Are you alright?” “I am now,” the hermit said. “Thanks to you.” “Where are you going?” He told all. “The Moon’s eldest daughter? She will gladly accept. She sits at her window night and day, sewing and weaving for her trousseau, looking to the sunrise and sighing.” Sirius then offered to carry him until it was time to return to his post. This offer was gladly accepted, and soon he was flying along, the distant white palace growing clearer with every passing minute. All too soon, Sirius halted and bade him farewell, and he went alone once more, until he reached the palace door. His knock was answered by a maidservant, who escorted him to a lavish garden where the Moon sat admiring herself in a fountain. “I bring an offer of marriage for your eldest daughter, Milady,” he said. “The son of the Sun wishes her for his bride.” The Moon’s nose wrinkled. “A mortal?” He reddened, but bowed. “Even so.” “If you find her without waking her, you may give it to her. She is in the pagoda.” She waved a milky hand toward a delicate structure in the center of the garden. Within, he found an identical trio of beautiful ladies, fast asleep. Which one was she? Then he remembered— Sirius had said the eldest had been sewing and weaving night and day. One’s fingers were stained with ink. Another smelled of lilies. The third’s hands had small calluses and a pinprick of blood: on her lap he placed the bag and scroll. She awoke, and accepted with joy, for she was as in love with her suitor as he was with her. The hermit was an honored guest at their wedding, and remains in their service to this day. That is why you can sometimes see sundogs and moondogs, for whichever house they stay in, he takes the hounds for a run in the cold winter mornings. Rose Q. Addams lives in a place that is entirely inhabited by little people, and loves hats, cheesecake, and said little people. You can find more of her work and insanity at https://rewriteswithafaeriepen.wordpress.com/

In place of wedding rings we stood toe to toe & drove twin icicles into our eyes. I saw like her & she saw me flaking into an arctic wind. Frostbitten lips kiss best. In her sleigh bed of ice we tangle under snow sheets kissing away the wildfires that sent us flying away & up & away from all we made in cinders & ash. Our birthplaces crumble while we ride on swans’ wings promising to try better than melted crowns staining black tears on our cheeks. Marisca Pichette's work has appeared in Strange Horizons, Fireside Magazine, Room Magazine, Ligeia Magazine, Enchanted Living, and Plenitude Magazine, among others. Her debut poetry collection, Rivers in Your Skin, Sirens in Your Hair, is forthcoming from Android Press in Spring 2023.

"Don't stir the pot, child. How many times do I have to remind you?" Emma rolled her eyes, "But why?" And she wasn't stirring - she was swishing. "You know the rule, Emma," her mother sighed and gestured for the spoon. In a reluctant sing-song, Emma recited the words every villager knew by heart: "Don't stir the pot, child, don't coax the wind or tempt the rain. While the weather is fine, we work and play and peace reigns over us night and day." "And there's your answer," her mother said. "Now run and play, if you like." But Emma didn't like - she felt restless as a squirrel before Friday Rain. There was an itch in her soul that demanded to be scratched. That itch was a sound and that sound was a word - her favorite word. Sometimes the word howled like a wolf, sometimes it squeaked like a mouse. That word was, "Why?" She ran out the door, grabbing the blackberry bucket on her way, and headed for the forest. The forest was a neat puzzle of trees and meadows, flowers and bushes. The contours never changed. Nothing in the village changed. Seasons looped in precise cycles of sun and cloud, rain and snow, stillness and wind - predictable down to the day, hour, and minute. Daily life followed suit. "Why can't it be different?!" Emma demanded aloud. She dropped the overflowing bucket and settled into a hollow under the grandmother oak. "For it to be different, you have to do something differently," said a voice. Emma was alone except for a crow sitting on a nearby root. "Can I have a blackberry?" it said. Other children might have run away in fright, but Emma was more interested in asking questions than running. She tipped the bucket, so the crow could eat his fill. Most especially she wanted to know - why could the crow speak? "Well", the crow replied, "they say somewhere somebody stirred a pot full of many different things. Or maybe one thing. Maybe magical things...maybe everyday things." Emma thanked the crow and ran all the way home. If she stirred the pot, what would happen? Would cows speak? Would flowers walk? Would it rain on a Sunday? Her mother was at market and the dinner pot was still simmering over the fire. Emma dipped the spoon in and began to stir. Slowly at first, around and around. A spiral formed. Vegetables bobbed like toy boats. Emma stirred faster. Stew slopped the sides of the pot as it rocked on its hook. Some splashed onto the coals below and sizzled and popped. The dizzily spinning liquid sucked the spoon from Emma's hand, sinking it with a glug. An impressive bubble rose to the surface and collapsed. Then, stillness. Emma's mother walked in to find her daughter staring into the pot, stew on her dress, and the spoon missing. Emma explained about the crow, talking cows and rain on Sundays, but her mother just shook her head. She had no choice, she told Emma sternly, but to tell the Village Council. Why? asked Emma. With a howl of exasperation her mother threw up her hands and departed. As it turned out, no one had ever stirred the pot before and therefore, the Village Council had never considered consequences. For now, Emma was confined to her room with a pile of mending. Emma sat by the window as she sewed, keeping eyes and ears open for walking flowers and talking cows. By the third day, she began to lose hope - until she heard raised voices from the street and saw Georgina Potter's mother hurrying Georgina towards the Village Square, scolding her the whole way. Georgina had been stirring the pot! And so it went all day long - parents hurrying their children up and down the street for stirring pots. The rhythmic passage of agitated feet churning up the packed dirt, generating dust-choked gusts that tumbled unlucky ants, confused bees, and unwary butterflies hither and fro, up chaotic currents and down unintended paths. Then it rained on a Saturday. Unheard of! And again on Sunday. And Monday. Ponds overflowed. The croaking of the frogs was deafening. Mosquitos swarmed, chased by zig-zagging battalions of dragonflies forcing pedestrians to duck and dodge to avoid collision. A bumper crop of fireflies lit the village bright enough to mistake night for day. Flowers never seen before grew. Cows did not speak, but mooed more frequently which was useful as the pasture grass grew so high they could only be located by keen ears. Some changes were promising, but others were not so agreeable, Emma decided, as she gathered an armload of fresh straw to patch their water-logged roof. "Excuse me," said a small voice. Emma looked down. Clinging to her bundle of straw was a mouse in a black velvet waistcoat carrying a tiny book with a gold clasp. "Can you help me? I didn't expect all of this weather and got blown off course into a hay bale." Emma smiled. Maybe leaky roofs were a good thing, after all. She offered the mouse her palm. He nodded his thanks and leapt onto her hand. "Where would you like to go?" she asked. "Grandmother oak. I must arrive by midnight or I won't be able to find the secret door." Emma's eyes widened. She had lots of questions, beginning with, "Why?" "That, young lady, is a long story. But I'll tell you all about it if you take me there." And off they went. On their way, they were joined by the other village children, each carrying something different and unusual- a rabbit in trousers, a frog with a crown, a bag of magic beans, a glass shoe, a red-orange bird with a fiery tail - all conjured by questions and spoons, by magical things and everyday things and with stories to tell. What will happen next? Emma wondered And right then she discovered her new favorite words. Liz is a movement educator, storyteller, and writer. In her Louisiana studio, she helps folks create healthier movement stories to live by. Beyond the studio, she reimagines folk and fairy tales, mixes in creative movement, and shares them with children through her “Tales with a Twist: Stories That Move!” programs.

Something in the atmosphere has shifted And I can't quite wrap my finger around it The tips of the winter edge have finally receded Though graciously, the heat of the summer continues to elude me. The breeze blows cold, the Earth sends a signal I'm thirsty rain, please come The cloud crumbled, the sky thundered Beams of lightening formed a path in the sky. Millions of massive rain-drops have fallen all around They came dancing on household and hid in the ground. They were liquid-like musicians with anything for keys Beating tunes upon the window How sweet the music of the rain that the sound fills the air. I took shelter in a silent empty house Lit by flat grey sky, spiced with rainbow Over everything the flatness lies Thick with words unspoken Can you feel it there, in the walls, in the floor? As a cold song in a cold weather Or as a fairy tale when the moon smile Love can blossom with the warmth and can also blow up storms The more involved we are together, the less we’ll have of stormy days. Faniyi Oluwatomiwa Elijah popularly known as Tommy Brian is a poet, freelance writer and Editor/proofreader. As a lover of art, nature and mystics, he finds solace and inspiration from soliloquy, meditations and poetic conversation. His work has appeared in numerous poetry journals, such as Wittywords, Writers Magazine, Chrysolite Writers etc.

“Phaedra” is a powerful, well told tale of a minor character from Greek mythology whose story will matter a great deal to the reader. Set in the time of Theseus, Medea, Minos, and other ancient Greek figures of myth, this novel moves swiftly, and Laura Shepperson’s prose is astonishingly crisp and clear. Indeed, the clarity and unsentimentality of her words are what lift this book up among the current crush of novels about ancient myth and folklore. Phaedra is young, a pawn, and doing her best in a world that is brutal—it’s important that readers know that Shepperson does not shrink from telling how hard it was for women in ancient Greece. But as I read it, at times deeply unsettled about just how badly women fare in the Athens of Shepperson’s imagination, I thought, well, based on what we know of women’s status in Ancient Greece, the depictions in “Phaedra” are pretty plausible. I appreciated the feeling of truth this book had, despite its being grounded in myth. (Note: Rape and sexual assault are a point of focus in this book, but it is not gratuitous and is handled carefully. The book is also not a depressing read, despite its subject matter.) In this book, you’ll find mystery, tragedy, loss, myth, bull jumping, artistry, intrigue, bravery and treachery. All of the characters and plot lines work well together. “Phaedra” captured me and held my attention the whole way through. I’m glad I read it. Thank you to NetGalley for providing this book for review. Review by Kate Wolford, editor-in-chief, The Fairy Tale Magazine.

The Golden Age of Illustration is a term applied to a time period (1880s - 1920s) of unprecedented excellence in book and magazine illustrations by artists in Europe and America. Advances in technology at the time allowed for accurate and inexpensive reproductions of their art, which allowed quality books to be available to the voracious public demand for new graphic art. Today, The Fairy Tale Magazine is shining a spotlight on one of our favorite European artists from this time period, Kay Nielsen, whose art was influenced by the Arts and Crafts movement, Art Nouveau, and the Pre-Raphaelite and Post Impressionist artists of their time. In turn, Nielsen went on to influence many modern illustrators as well. Learn more about this artist below: Kay Rasmus Nielsen (March 12, 1886 - June 21, 1957) was a Danish illustrator who was popular in the early 20th century. After studying art in Paris from 1904 to 1911, Nielsen moved to England where he received his first commission from Hodder and Stroughton in 1913 to illustrate a collection of fairy tales. His 24 color plates and 15 monotone illustrations for the book, In Powder and Crinoline, Fairy Tales Retold by Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, led to The Illustrated London News hiring him to produce illustrations for the tales of Charles Perrault (Sleeping Beauty, Puss in Boots, Cinderella, and Bluebeard) for their 1913 Christmas edition. From 1914 to 1925, Nielsen produced illustrations for several books including East of the Sun and West of the Moon; Fairy Tales by Hans Christian Andersen; and Hansel and Gretel and Other Stories by the Brothers Grimm. He also worked, during this time, for the Royal Danish Theatre in Copenhagen where he painted stage scenery. In 1937, after moving to California, he was hired by the Walt Disney Company where his art was used in the film, Fantasia, in the "Ave Maria" and "Night on Bald Mountain" sequences. To me, Kay Nielsen's striking art has a timeless, graphic quality that still speaks to modern viewers. Check out Nielsen's art: From East of the Sun, West of the Moon, 1914 L'art Magique, 1913 From The 12 Dancing Princesses, 1913 From In Powder and Crinoline, 1913 From East of the Sun, West of the Moon, 1914 From East of the Sun, West of the Moon,1914 From East of the Sun, West of the Moon,1914 From East of the Sun, West of the Moon,1914 From East of the Sun, West of the Moon,1914 From East of the Sun, West of the Moon,1914 From Hansel & Gretel and Other Stories by The Brothers Grimm, 1925 From Hansel & Gretel and Other Stories by The Brothers Grimm, 1925 From 1001 Arabian Nights, Published in 1976 From 1001 Arabian Nights, Published in 1976 From In Powder and Crinoline, 1913 From In Powder and Crinoline, 1913 And if you'd like to read East of the Sun, West of the Moon, illustrated by Kay Nielsen, you can read it free HERE Enchanted Conversation's contributing editor, Amanda Bergloff, writes modern fairy tales and speculative fiction. Her work has appeared in various anthologies, including Frozen Fairy Tales, After the Happily Ever After, and Uncommon Pet Tales. Follow her on Twitter @AmandaBergloff Join her every Tuesday on Twitter for #FairyTaleTuesday to share what you love about fairy tales, folktales, and myths. Also, if you like sharing your #vss fairy tales on Twitter, follow @fairytaleflash and use #FairyTaleFlash so we can retweet! Cover: Amanda Bergloff