All True Readers Have A Book, A

She Did As She Felt, And She Felt A Great Deal.

Time Had A Way Of Moulding People Into Shapes They Themselves No Longer Recognised.

She'd Slept Terribly The Night Before. The Room, The Bed, Were Both Comfortable Enough, But She'd Been Plagued With Strange Dreams, The Sort That Lingered Upon Waking But Slithered Away From Memory As She Tried To Grasp Them. Only The Tendrils Of Discomfort Remained.

I Am Not A Storyteller . . . Not Like The Others. I Only Have One Tale To Tell.

You Must Learn To Know The Difference Between Tales And The Truth, My Liza, She Would Say. Fairy Tales Have A Habit Of Ending Too Soon. They Never Show What Happens Afterwards When The Prince And Princess Ride Off The Page.