For Plain And Fancy Worrying, Give Me

My Name Is Mary Katherine Blackwood. I Am Eighteen Years Old, And I Live With My Sister Constance. I Have Often Thought That With Any Luck At All, I Could Have Been Born A Werewolf, Because The Two Middle Fingers On Both My Hands Are The Same Length, But I Have Had To Be Content With What I Had. I Dislike Washing Myself, And Dogs, And Noise. I Like My Sister Constance, And Richard Plantagenet, And Amanita Phalloides, The Death-cup Mushroom. Everyone Else In Our Family Is Dead.

Fate Intervened. Some Of Us, That Day, She Led Inexorably Through The Gates Of Death. Some Of Us, Innocent And Unsuspecting, Took, Unwillingly, That One Last Step To Oblivion. Some Of Us Took Very Little Sugar.

On The Moon We Have Everything. Lettuce, And Pumpkin Pie And Amanita Phalloides. We Have Cat-furred Plants And Horses Dancing With Their Wings. All The Locks Are Solid And Tight, And There Are No Ghosts.

I Wonder If I Could Eat A Child If I Had The Chance.' 'i Doubt If I Could Cook One,' Said Constance.

I Was Thinking, I Could Turn Him Into A Fly And Drop Him Into A Spider's Web And Watch Him Tangled And Helpless And Struggling, Shut Into The Body Of A Dying Buzzing Fly; I Could Wish Him Dead Until He Died.i Could Fasten Him To A Tree And Keep Him There Until He Grew Into The Trunk And Bark Grew Over His Mouth. If He Was Under The Ground I Could Walk Over Him Stamping My Feet.