The Queen lay awake long past midnight, tracing the lines on her face with her fingers. They were deeper than they had been yesterday. They turned to wrinkles and then to crevasses, stealing her youth and beauty.
The man sleeping beside her would say she was even more beautiful than the day he’d first seen her
I was nearly done raking the lawn when someone plump, perky, and purple-clad appeared in a gust right there, scattering leaves.
“Who are you?” I wielded the rake.
She shook a leaf from her skirts. “Your fairy godmother, dear.”
“Fairy godmother—? But I didn’t know fairies were real.”
“That explains your rude surprise.
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