Her Father Picks Different Names For Her

I Do Not Like Sitting Idly By When Something Clearly Isn't Right. I Feel... Not Trapped But Something Like It, And I Don't Know What To About.

The Sensation Reminds Him Of The First Snow Of Winter, For Those First Few Hours When Everything Is Blanketed In White, Soft And Quiet.

This Is, In Part, Why There Is Less Magic In The World Today. Magic Is Secret And Secrets Are Magic, After All, And Years Upon Years Of Teaching And Sharing Magic And Worse. Writing It Down In Fancy Books That Get All Dusty With Age Has Lessened It, Removed Its Power Bit By Bit.

I Think That's A Hallmark Of A Really Good Story That It Has Readers That It Speaks To More Than Others.

Celia, Wait,” Marco Says, Standing But Not Moving Closer To Her. “you Are Breaking My Heart. You Told Me Once That I Reminded You Of Your Father. That You Never Wanted To Suffer The Way Your Mother Did For Him, But You Are Doing Exactly That To Me. You Keep Leaving Me. You Leave Me Longing For You Again And Again When I Would Give Anything For You To Stay, And It Is Killing Me.” “it Has To Kill One Of Us,” Celia Says Quietly.