Martha pulled the carrots out of the dirt and put them in her basket. A drizzle of sweat trickled down her cheek. She turned her neck and wiped the sweat with her shoulder and moved to the next row. Martha glanced up toward the sky noting the position of the sun—and the lack of clouds.…

“Do you believe in fairies?” I stopped knitting. Abigail closed her prized possession, a book of Shakespeare’s works, and looked at me. “What do you mean?” I asked. “Well,” Abigail began, “there are so many stories of fairies and they seem so realistic. I want to believe in fairies—and I did when I lived back…

I think that stories are so fun. I was up for over an hour last night. I was in bed…but I was thinking of a story that is begging me to write. (And am dying to get Sheila the details…once I write them down…) So, in hopes that I will write little story snippets…I am…