Sarah’s Story


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by Florence


Dark … there wasn’t any other word for it. Unsure whether or not she still slept Sarah slowly turned her head and felt the soft cold pillow press against her cheek while her eyes slowly scanned the small room in which she slumbered; in which she lived.

In waking, all her dreams of by gone days gradually dissipated, evaporating as steam does from boiling water. All except a pair of yellow-orange eyes shining across the room. Could it be an animal has managed to steal into my house in the night she thought, a rat or a weasel or maybe something worse; some small beast with long, razor-sharp teeth. But how? And strange, the animal does not move, but sits, gazing steadily upon me. She dared not move. Sarah forced herself to look away from those staring, unblinking eyes, then, forced herself with equal difficulty to look back again. Look away and look back; and still the creature sat, watching … yellow-orange eyes, like … like hot embers. Of course! Embers! The eyes were but embers left in the grate from the evening before. Relieved, Sarah breathed out in one long sigh, just now realizing she had been holding her breath.

 A soft “meow” came from the other side of the only door to the cottage.

Cat wants in she thought, I guess it’s time to get up.

Rising carefully from the old bed and stretching, she began advancing toward the door, moving slowly, painfully aware of the stiffness from a lifetime of, of what? She couldn’t remember. No matter, if I can’t remember then it mustn’t have been all that important … and that’s all there is to it. As she opened the door a large black cat darted between her legs and hopped expectantly onto the table. Smiling she turned back to the opening and gazed upon the morning sky with its thin ribbon of fire illuminating the horizon, heralding a new day. She let her gaze settle on the still dim landscape and it seemed for a moment to be just as it was so many years ago when she, a bare slip of a girl, first came walking cheerfully through the nearby meadow. Nothing ever changes very much … or maybe it only seems that way when you’re not paying attention. Sighing she closed the door and turned to the new day for no door or barricade can hold time at bay.

 After she had given Cat a bowl of milk and finished her breakfast Sarah stepped outside with her tea to sit in the first warm rays of the sun. Few pleasures are left to me these days but a nice cup of tea made from meadow flowers in bloom and enjoyed in the morning sun gives the day a special glad. As she sat on the old bench beside the door, she thought how nice the sun felt, warming her right through to the bone, gently massaging the stiffness out of her muscles. This must be how unconditional love feels … warm, soft and soothing.  The cat jumped up beside her, curled up and promptly fell asleep. Leaning her head back against the wall she sighed as the warmth of the sun and the lazy buzzing of the bees, lulled her into the light slumber where memories of her youth waited.



 It was a beautiful spring day and Sarah was sixteen again. Like most girls her age she wasn’t totally unconscious of the beauty she radiated as she danced along. Her long wavy chestnut hair, beautiful long fingernails and unblemished skin the color of the first rays of sunrise, well truth be told, it was a vision that would have made even a poet cry in ecstasy. And as she stepped in this lighthearted, carefree manner she hummed a little melody which her mother always sang while preparing dinner. The words didn’t matter; the melody alone made her happy and for some reason always made her hungry.

 Stopping on the path to tie her shoe she chanced to look up and noticed a roof just visible above the tall grass. She hadn’t seen it there before and with her curiosity aroused she started walking toward it carefully making her way through gold and silver grasses. As she approached she saw that it was an old cottage which had been neglected for many years. It had a rundown quality about it, with a thatched roof that needed mending and a front stoop which sagged a little on one side. There were two small windows one on each side of the door in which several of the panes were cracked and clearly the woodwork, not having been painted for many years, was left to its own devices of falling off in smaller or larger pieces – as it saw fit.

She stood looking at this remarkable little hut wondering who had once lived there and what they had been like when a face suddenly appeared at the window.

 “Oh” she exclaimed stumbling backward.

 Sarah was so surprised at seeing anyone there that she turned and would have run off had it not been for a black cat sitting directly in her path like a little stone statue.

From behind her Sarah heard an old woman call to her. “Welcome child, welcome! Don’t be afraid,  I don’t get many visitors and I’m sorry if I startled you. Tell me, where are you going?” Pausing for a moment she smiled “Oh, where are my manners? Come in, come in and rest awhile.” She motioned for Sarah to follow her into the cottage.  “I was just about to prepare dinner. We can talk while I make us something nice to eat.”  She paused again still smiling then said: “You will stay and have something to eat, won’t you?”

 Sarah’s stomach was making sounds like a discontented old dog, so she replied: “Yes, I’d like that. I haven’t eaten since I left home this morning.”

 Following the old woman in, she saw the cottage was indeed small but cozy, with just enough room for a bed, a table with two chairs, a small cupboard and a rocking chair in front of the fireplace. As she looked around she saw the old woman quickly put something in a little box on the mantle where there also stood numerous jars and glasses containing various herbs. While the old woman busied herself with preparing a meal of bread and soup, Sarah talked of herself.

 “I’m on my way out to see the world,” she said with her mouth full of bread. “My parents wanted me to marry an old man from my village. He was awful! He smelled funny and his house looked … well … much worse than this if you don’t mind my saying so. I think there must be more to life then just marriage and children. Don’t you?”

 “Ummm, could be, could be” said the old woman absently.

 The soup tasted wonderful; a dark soup , thick with thyme, onions and carrots and large pieces of meat which tasted a little like chicken, but more pungent. The drink, which was made from wild meadow flowers, tasted a little bitter, so the old lady offered her a bit more honey to take the bitterness away.

 “Anyway, I decided to journey out and find my fortune while I’m still young” she continued. “My parents don’t even know that I’m gone yet; and by the time they do, I’ll be miles away.”

 “That’s all well and good child” said the old woman as she sat down and started sipping at her tea, “but you want to be careful on your journey. There are a lot of wicked people out there who will stop at nothing to get hold of a pretty girl like you.”

 “I’ll be fine. I’ve been walking all day and the people I’ve met have all been kind and friendly” said Sarah, “don’t worry, nothing is going to happen to me.”

 The old woman wrinkled her brow and gazed at her for a moment as if deep in thought. Then a smile slowly engrossed her features. “You look tired child, why don’t you spend the night and continue your journey in the morning? You can sleep on the bed … I usually fall asleep in the chair anyway. Besides it’s started to rain.”

 Glancing out of the small window she saw that the sun had gone down while she had talked and eaten and it indeed had started to rain.  “Maybe that would be best” she said slowly, confused that the time had passed so quickly. “Yes, I would like that very much, thank you”.

 It wasn’t very pleasant, lying in the old woman’s bed. It was lumpy and smelled funny, like lying on stones next to a wet dog. Actually the whole house had an unkempt quality about it with an almost tasted odor of dying mice beneath dusty floorboards; uncaring and forgotten. But the crackling of wood in the fireplace combined with the soft whoosh of rain on the thatched roof was like a remembered lullaby half heard in a light doze. Sarah struggled against the waves of slumber as they gently but insistently crested over her consciousness. The old woman sat in the rocking chair by the fire with her black cat lying on her lap. As she sat there with her head tilted back and eyes closed Sarah saw a little smile crossed her lips revealing what was left of her yellow teeth. Her face was so furrowed that a fly would have broken its leg had it landed on her, and the few strands of gray hair she had remaining tried valiantly to escape the dirty ribbon used to bind them, most had succeeded. The cat made Sarah a little nervous, the way he lay there staring at her with his big eyes the color of his mistress’s teeth, as if he was looking through her, sensing her thoughts, waiting for her to slumber for reasons only fathomable to himself. In the end, though, sleep could no longer be denied. 

 Sarah woke with a start. It was still dark but the rain had stopped. Something soft had brushed against her cheek, and she felt something small and hard pressed into the palm of her hand. Then a slurred, hissing voice whispered urgently in her ear “run”. Sarah hesitated, what’s this …am I still dreaming or am I awake she thought. Suddenly something sharp scratched her arm, and again the voice whispered, more urgently this time, “run, now.”

 Alarmed she jumped up from the bed. The old woman wasn’t to be seen in the dim light from the fireplace so she ran out of the house as fast as her legs could carry her. Pausing outside she turned to see if the house was on fire or some other disaster had befallen it when suddenly she heard a shout of outrage, followed by a sharp scream – a scream of the type only cats can make. Terror gave her feet wings making her seemingly to fly over the ground, away from the house. In her alarm she thought with horror that the old woman must have been a witch and the whispering voice must therefore have been the cats. Half remembered stories of witches and warlocks capturing unsuspecting children flashed through her mind. Now I wish I had married that old man she thought.



When Sarah had run what seemed like miles and miles she stopped to rest by a stream. Maybe not actually ‘marry’ the old man she thought to herself, he was awfully old! Giggling and glad to have escaped the old woman Sarah leaned over the water to drink when something fell out of her pocket into the water. It was a stone. How did that get there she thought. Fishing it up out of the stream, she studied the stone intently, turning it slowly over in her hand. It was a completely unremarkable gray stone: flattish with rounded corners, big enough to have a nice weight but small enough to fit comfortably in the palm of her hand. Definitely nothing to write home about she thought giggling again. Suddenly, something strange began to happen. Some words started to appear as if an invisible hand were etching them on the stone as she watched.

 ‘What you seek, you must carry,

Sacrifices three, will be necessary,

Under the canopy green.’

 What a strange stone, she thought, definitely a witch’s stone. Behind her, she suddenly heard the old woman’s voice calling: “Come back, child! I know you have something of mine and I want it back.”

 Sarah quickly put the stone back into her pocket and terrified, again ran as fast as she could, over a bridge and down the road until, with her heart pounding, she stopped dead in her tracks. The road divided itself in two! On the one side there was a forest, and on the other, a meadow. Which way should I go? she cried to herself. Looking over her shoulder in panic to see if the old woman was in sight she thought: over the meadow is faster, but there’s better hiding places in the woods. She could hear the old woman moving quickly … terrifyingly quickly behind her, out of breath, but still screaming: “When I catch you, I’m going to eat you, nails, hair and all!”

 The forest, I must hide in the forest she breathed. Terrified the witch might even be able to hear her heart pounding Sarah quickly ran into the forest and hid behind a tall, old oak tree. There, behind the ancient hardwood she mused that the witch would never find her and felt comforted. The cool, coarse, knotted surface of the tree welcomed her cheek as she leaned her head in to the majestic being. Rough bark, so deeply furrowed, welcomed her clutching fingers as if to offer her a more secure hiding place or become mountainous crags which she might easily scale. After a time Sarah noticed she could no longer hear the witch. Carefully she peeked out from behind the tree. I must have run quite some distance she thought, I seem to be in the middle of the forest! All around her stood tall, majestic oak trees casting deep shadows across a moss-covered forest floor. All was still, no birds sang from the boughs, no insects or small creatures scurried through the dry leaves. The only sound was that of Sarah’s breath: in, out, in, out. Stepping out onto the road again she inadvertently trod on a fallen twig. The sudden sound, like an unexpected thunder-clap from a clear sky, nearly sent her bolting back behind the tree. It was nearly impossible for her to catch her breath. Sarah was sure it was her heart which had become lodged in her throat, blocking her air-way. Although she felt faint from the unexpected start, after a few moments her heart calmed itself again and receded, if not reluctantly, to its accustomed place in her breast. Making sure the witch was nowhere to be seen, Sarah was about to continue her journey at a more leisurely pace when she noticed an old suitcase lying by the side of the road. What a strange place to leave a suitcase lying she thought. Remembering the strange stone she took it up of her pocket again and read:

 ‘What you seek, you must carry,

Sacrifices three, will be necessary,

Under the canopy green.’

 OK, what you seek, you must carry, she mused. I’m seeking my fortune and a suitcase is for carrying things, so maybe my fortune is in the suitcase!

 Sarah all but hopped up and down with expectation. Pulling and tugging she managed with great effort to drag the suitcase up onto the road. On close inspection she discovered that it was locked with ten tiny golden locks! It would certainly take a very small key to open those locks, she thought, and I don’t have any keys at all! As she examined the suitcase from all angles to see if there was another way to open it, she noticed a small nail clipper hanging from the handle.

That’s a strange thing to hang on a suitcase, she thought astonished. Then she remembered the next line on the stone: Sacrifices three, will be necessary. Hmmm … I wonder if the key could be a sacrifice. If so, what could I possibly offer? Why does everything have to be so hard she moaned.

 Standing there, in the middle of the road, with no-one and nothing to help her, Sarah was forced to think for herself. A nail clipper is for clipping nails … so … maybe I’m to sacrifice my beautiful fingernails if I’m to open the suitcase.  I’ll try with the smallest of my nails first. If it doesn’t work it will always grow back. So she clipped one of her little fingernails off. “Clip”.

“Chink” the first lock snapped open!

Surprised, she then clipped her other little fingernail “clip”.

“Chink!” the second lock snapped open!

“Clip, clip, clip, clip” she cut off all of her beautiful, long fingernails.

 ”Chink, chink, chink, chink!” all of the tiny golden locks snapped open.

Tingling with expectancy Sarah opened the suitcase and looked inside. There, lying in one corner was a little, old, chipped bottle. Is this my fortune she asked angrily. All of my beautiful fingernails for an old bottle, what am I going to do with that? Just about to through the bottle into the bushes she stopped. Maybe I’d better keep the old thing for the time being she thought, one never knows what might come up. So she miserably put the bottle into her pocket, together with the stone, sighed and continued her journey on down the road.



For several days Sarah walked through the forest without seeing a living soul. Sleeping beside fallen tree trunks, eating the berries she could find along the way and drinking water from the streams she occasionally crossed she finally reached the edge of the forest. In front of her, once again the road branched off to either side. To the left was yet another murky forest, and to the right was yet another meadow where the sun shone brightly and the flowers were fresh with the morning dew still hanging from their petals. So sweet was their aroma that the bees, in danger of becoming intoxicated, courageously executed their given task while ignoring all hazards of inebriation. After so many days of walking in the shadowy forest, Sarah found it impossible to resist the sparkling light of the meadow.

 The winding road, gradually became smaller and smaller, eventually becoming little more than a footpath. At length Sarah came to a bush with clusters of pink flowers and beneath the bush, laid yet another suitcase. This time I will surely find something wonderful in the suitcase, maybe even my fortune she shouted with joy.

 When she pulled the suitcase from under the bush she saw that once again, there was something hanging from the handle; a small, silver scissors. Sacrifices three, will be necessary, she mumbled to herself. I have already offered my beautiful fingernails, so I can’t clip off any more of those. I suppose I could cut my dress to pieces but that wouldn’t be much of a sacrifice she said looking down at her dirty cloths which were now showing all the signs of having been worn too long and under difficult circumstances. Then a terrifying thought occurred to her – what if I’m supposed to cut off my nose? The mere thought was too horrible. If that be the case she said resolutely, then I will happily leave the suitcase lying here and continue on my merry way! After all I’m out to find my fortune, not deface myself … giggling at her own joke she speculated what the small scissors could then be used for. Of course! The scissors could be used on my hair! To cut off all of my beautiful wavy hair is certainly a terrible sacrifice, although not so terrible as cutting off my nose would be she thought with a shiver. In the end she took up the scissors and clip, clip, clip, clip. All her long, flowing chestnut hair fell to the ground.

 Silence … heavy, expectant silence and then … nothing. Nothing happened! The suitcase remained locked. Not only did she no longer have any fingernails, now she had cut off all of her lovely long hair to no use. Sarah buried her face in her hands and began weeping. This can’t be right she sobbed. Sniffing, she suddenly raised her head. Wait a minute, there was more written on the stone. Sarah fished the stone up from her pocket and read: ‘What you seek, you must carry’. Got that she said.

‘Sacrifices three, will be necessary’.

‘Under the canopy green’.

That was it! Under the canopy green! Canopy green must mean the forest, she laughed. I must return to the forest immediately! If only I can get back under the tree tops, the lock will open and at last I’ll have my fortune! Wiping her eyes with the hem of her dirty dress she picked up the suitcase and ran back through the meadow; past the wild flowers, past the drunken bees, towards the forest.

 After running what seemed like an eternity, Sarah finally reached the forest. She put the suitcase on the ground and waited expectantly. But still nothing happened.

There must be some mistake, she cried, I’m under the canopy green! Maybe if I walk a little farther into the woods. She picked up the suitcase and made her way farther into the forest. But still nothing happened.

Sarah sank hopelessly down onto the ground. This can’t be happening to me, she thought. No fingernails, no hair and no fortune.  As she sat there on the ground wallowing in self-pity but trying not to cry, she had a thought – maybe the sacrifice has to actually happen under the canopy green, exactly like it’s written on the stone. A lot of good that does me now, she sighed. I’ve already cut off all of my hair.

 Just then a light breeze blew around her and something tickled the back of her neck. Thinking it was some insect she absently brushed at it with her hand. When it tickled her again, she caught at it and found that it was a single, thin, chestnut colored hair! Sarah grabbed the little silver scissors from her pocket, and ‘clip’ the single thin hair fell to the ground.

‘Chink’ the lock snapped open.

 Quickly Sarah opened the lid of the suitcase and looked inside, only to see … a knife. It wasn’t even a nice knife. It was sharp, to be sure, but the handle wasn’t of gold or silver. Not even inlaid with diamonds or precious stones. It was just an ordinary wooden handle on an ordinary knife.

Wonderful, a bottle and a knife, at this rate I’ll never be rich but I’ll be able to open a junk shop. Sarah put the knife in her pocket together with the flask and stone and continued down the road.



For many days Sarah continued walking through the forest until one day she followed the road over a small hill and there, in front of her lay a great, flat desert. Standing still, gazing out over the sweltering expanse, with the burning incandescence dancing through the air she sighed: Wonderful, just what I need. Resigning herself to the journey ahead she squared her shoulders, took a deep breath and set out into the wilderness.

 She had heard tales of people who had gotten themselves lost in the desert. Their dry, parched bones lay for years under the burning sun before anyone found them … if ever they did. She could feel the small drops of sweat forming under what was left of her hair and begin to run down the back of her neck making her dress cling to her back as if it were glued there while little pearls of perspiration formed on her forehead and ran like beads down her nose. This is just too hard. I can’t walk any further and there’s nothing to see ahead but the horizon. She turned around to start back but the road was gone! Not even her tracks were visible. The incessant desert wind had erased every trace of the road and with it her footprints. Not even the forest was to be seen in the distance. She blinked once, then twice, unable to believe she had really come so far.

 Now what am I going to do? she cried. In her despair, she covered her face with her hands and took a step backwards. Suddenly she was falling, and then bump! She landed very hard on her behind side. Not a very lady-like posture she thought as she sat looking at her outstretched legs and dirty, torn dress but then she noticed what had caused this awkward condition. There, protruding up of the sand, was what looked like a half buried suitcase. Now I wish I had gotten a spoon she thought as she began digging with her hands.

 It was hard work, kneeling there with the sun burning over head, digging in the hot sand and it took her a while to free the suitcase, but when she did she found it too was locked. I do hope there’s water in there, she mumbled to herself. Quickly inspecting the suitcase she found there was nothing hanging from the handle and no other way to open the suitcase. It doesn’t really matter anyway she thought, the forest is gone, so there’s no ‘canopy green’ and I can’t open it here. Sighing she picked up the suitcase mumbling to no-one in particular “I guess the only thing to do is continue walking forward and take the suitcase with me”.



All night, every night, Sarah walked and walked, the suitcase becoming heavier and heavier so in the end all she could do was drag it after her. With each new day that dawned she would find an outcropping of rock which would give her some shade to sleep in. Often there were little pools of water trapped between the stones where she found she could fill the little bottle. Occasionally she found a bit of vegetation she could eat along the way. Many, many days passed in this fashion.

 One morning, just as the sun was about to rise over the horizon, she spied something far out in the distance. By this time Sarah was so tired and thirsty she almost didn’t care, and the suitcase which she was still dragging after her felt like it weighed over a ton. Don’t even think of leaving it behind now, she scolded herself wearily, not after all this way.

 As Sarah drew nearer she could see, to her glad, another forest! A forest where there was shade and water and where she could escape the heat. She tried to summon the energy to run but her legs felt like lead and the sand gripped at her every footfall as if it wanted to keep her for itself. So with her last ounce of strength she kept her eyes on the canopy green and trudged forward.

 At last, after so many days in the desert Sarah had finally made it! Totally exhausted she dropped the suitcase and all but fell face first onto the soft, shady, moss covered forest floor.

 ‘Chink’ the lock clicked open.

Sarah raised her head and looked unbelievingly at the suitcase. I must be imagining things she thought. I haven’t done anything. Besides, with my luck, there’s probably a spoon in there she sighed as she rolled over onto her back and looked up through the treetops at the blue sky, too tired to sit up. Too tired to think.

 Sarah’s head gradually stopped spinning as the coolness of the shade worked its magic on her. Curious to see what had happened with the suitcase she lifted her head and looked at it suspiciously. I might as well get it over with. Crawling slowly over to the suitcase she carefully opened the lid. Just a little. Another disappointment would be unbarable. Cautiously she peered down into the case and came eye to eye with an old woman!

Oh! she screamed, and fell backwards, her legs pistoning to push her away. The old woman, the witch from so long ago had somehow followed her and hid in the suitcase!

 Sarah sat a ways away, hugging her knees and eyeing the suitcase distrustfully almost afraid to breathe least the witch should hear her and pop out screeching. A while passed, then two whiles, then three and when there had gone four whiles and still nothing happened, she summoned all her courage and crawled over to the suitcase to sneak a quick look inside again. Carefully she peeked over the edge and saw…tree tops! It’s a reflection! The thing in the suitcase is a mirror she laughed. Wait a minute, I know I saw an old woman.

 Picking up the mirror she looked into it again, and there, once again she saw an old woman with white hair and wrinkles on her face. It was her! She was the old woman in the mirror! Her soft fair skin had become brown and dry like old leather, and her hair, once the color of chestnuts was now white and parched by the sun.

 Suddenly everything became clear. The last sacrifice had been her youth. That was the last straw. Realizing the awful truth, Sarah broke down and cried bitterly. She had sacrificed her beautiful fingernails and her lovely long hair and now her youth! For what? In search of fortune! She began crying again.

 Crying eases the soul and by and by she stood up sniffing. Well, I’ve only myself to thank for it and it certainly doesn’t help to lay here wallowing in self-pity so I might as well continue my journey.



Sarah walked more slowly now. Her back was crooked and rheumatism had found a home in her joints. Age truly had become her faithful travelling companion. Walking is what I know best she chuckled to herself; after all I’ve had plenty of practice. Coming upon and old tree trunk which had fallen in a storm many years ago she sat down to rest. Darkness comes quickly around her she thought. Suddenly a flickering light between the trees caught her eye.

 Looks like there might be a house over there, maybe I can beg a bit of bread. I’m so hungry I think I could eat a bear!  But approaching the house her hunger suddenly disappeared. It was the same house from so long ago, the witch’s house! What trickery is this she moaned? As quietly as she could, Sarah snuck closer to the house. It’s impossible that the old woman could still be alive. Someone else must certainly live there now she thought.

 Suddenly – surprisingly suddenly – the old woman jumped out from behind a bush!

“There you are! I knew you would come back! They all do! Now I will have what you stole from me” she screamed.

 The old woman grabbed Sarah by her hair and arm with fingers that felt like claws. They pitched to the ground wrestling like two ancient tigers screaming and scratching and all the while Sarah trying to get loose, to flee as best she could. But the more she fought, the tighter the old woman’s grip became. To her horror, the old woman started to laugh and tried to bite her with her yellow teeth! That was the last straw. With her last once of strength she freed one hand and ripped the knife from her pocket. Sarah stabbed the old witch once, twice, three times! Right in her heart! Never before had such an awful sound been heard as when the old witch gave a blood curdling howl and fell over dead.

 Trembling with exhaustion Sarah stood and stared down at the old woman in disbelief. Lying there, she didn’t look anything like a witch. In death she just looked like an old woman. A old woman with a face not contorted with rage but graced with a little smile, as if only sleeping with happy dreams. Suddenly she felt something soft brush against her leg. Startled, she turned and saw the cat, the same black cat from so many years before. Now he sat there staring up at her as if waiting for her to say or do something. Stooping to stroke the cat something fell out of her pocket. The cat’s eyes followed the thing as it rolled on the grass. It was the stone which had once again fallen out of her pocket.  Picking it up she turned it over to read it once more but the writing had changed! It now read:

 ‘The cat must have a mistress,

The house must have a witch,

Consequences are the prices paid.’

 Sarah finally understood everything. Her journey, her search for fortune, her decision to beg food, even killing the witch were all choices, her choices; and with every choice there was a consequence. Maybe there are no good or bad choices here in life, she thought, only consequences.



Sarah woke slowly. The sun had moved across the sky and a cold wind had risen making it too chilly to sit here any longer.

“Come cat, let’s go in and se what’s for dinner.” As she stepped through the doorway, her hand touched a stone which had been embedded next to the door many years ago and on it were the words:

‘Mankind’s fortune

Glitters not, but of

  Contentment shines.’


The End


1 Comment

  1. April 10, 2013 at 3:06 pm

    What wonderful stories and delightful writing skills!

    Is it time for you to publish some or all via e-book or hard cover???
    Blessings and Sparkles,

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