Little Red Riding Hood - The Clean Version

A woman came up to me a couple of weeks ago and asked me to find her some books with Little Red Riding Hood in them. Before I could even get up she went on to explain further that she had a woman in her ESOL class that had told her a version of the fairy tale;

Little Red Riding Hood goes to visit her grandmother. The wolf beats her there and swallows her grandmother whole, steals her clothes, and lies in wait. LRRR and the Wolf have their witty banter and the wolf swallows her whole too. A woodsman hears screams, comes to investigate, administers a C section on the wolf and out pop Grandmother and LRRR safe and sound. The woman who spoke to me now was appalled at the graphic nature of the story and I used Wikipedia to further explore the story and tell her that this was how it was originally written by Perrault and later Grimm. She went on to say that her student claimed that this was the original story too but the woman wanted a cleaner version to show her to prove that in America, the wolf isn't bisected.

"The theme of the ravening wolf and of the creature released unharmed from its belly is reflected in the Russian tale Peter and the Wolf, and the other Grimm tale The Wolf and the Seven Young Kids, but its general theme of restoration is at least as old as Jonah and the whale. The Theme also appears in the story of the life of Saint Margaret, where the saint emerges unharmed from the belly of a dragon." (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Little_red_riding_hood).

I didn't go into this much detail with the woman but instead we went over to the children's non fiction shelves and went through several books of Little Red Riding Hood, trying to find one that would suit her. Ironically nearly every book I picked up had some version of the wolf being cut open by the hunter. I swear in one book it had the hunter "snipping the wolf open with scissors" like one would undo a stitch. There are cleaner versions of the story as stated in the wikipedia article:

(Sanitized versions of the story have had the grandmother shut in the closet instead of eaten, and some have Little Red Riding Hood saved by the hunter as the wolf advances on her, rather than after she is eaten.)

I was able to find one clean version, published by Random House, that has the grandmother attacking the wolf and running away into the Forest. Little Red Riding Hood comes to visit the wolf in grandma's clothing and the hunter comes and bops the wolf on the head with his axe (double tap) and saves the day.

I ended the reference interview by telling the woman I was just as surprised as she that the children's books would maintain the original version of the story and yet we don't see Cinderella's stepsisters cutting off their toes to fit into the glass slipper as portrayed in Grimm's version.

How to charge the babies (energy wise)

I have successfully written and performed my first two independent Babygarten classes (a reading, rhyming, and listening storytime for babies 0 to 18 months). Both times I nearly ran out of breath from talking so fast and performing the rhymes (especially the stand up ones). I can never tell if the parents are enjoying what I'm doing except through verbal cues. One parent sighed in relief after we completed our Stand Up Rhymes today. I didn't know if he was relieved to put down his heavy child or if he was tired of it. Parents who don't want to do the stand up rhymes can always sit down, but I may cut back on the number that I do. The last two times two parents (out of 44 and 65 of the class #s) came up and said "Thank you." to me afterward.

My philosophy is to keep the Babygarten as highly energized as possible, but then I'm afraid I get the kids too wound up. I did pull a trick from my co-worker Jennifer and that's to start singing a rhyme as I'm collecting toys to focus everyone's attention back to me so we could do more rhymes. The kids were starting to get restless by the end so I cut a few songs and went straight to the toys. The children seem to be happiest when there's music playing so perhaps more songs? I don't like creating a mellow environment for the babies because I find that boring and it should be reserved for Lullaby Storytimes.

Any advice you, dear reader, can give on how to focus your child's attention or what works best when them when it comes to books, or through your experience with similar storytime formats would be helpful and immensely appreciated.

One Day

Livejournal is down for the moment so I'm resorting to pen this here on the semi-professional blog. I just finished One Day by David Nicholls, about Dexter Mayhew and Emma Morley. These are two people who meet in college on the day of their graduation and proceed to have a one night fling. Not sure where or what their future may turn out to be, they resolve to move past the sexual attraction and just stay friends. For the next twenty years the book chronicles their separate and sometimes joined lives on the day they met, July 15th, from 1988 to 2008. There are pitfalls and passions in both their lives and their relationships orbit and sometimes split off completely. The book also follows their relationships with others and failed attempts at finding themselves and a career before they find themselves settled doing what they always loved (in Emma's case) or what they least expected (in Dexter's). Between Dexter's addiction to drugs and alcohol and Emma's lack of self confidence the book does plod along in a dreary tone a lot but then there are touching and surprising moments such as Dexter and Emma's romance coming to a flourish in Paris or Dexter's mother passing from cancer and how this affects him and his relationship with Emma. It's a very beautiful read and for the first time the book club I'm a part of will be pairing the book with the film that's set to come out in a few weeks.

One Day trailer.

I really, really loved this book. Partly because it was so beautifully and realistically written that I could hear the snarkiness in Emma's voice and also the pained arrogance in Dexter's, but also because their story is very painful to read at some parts and hilarious at others.

Some of the best lines include:

"I think you're scared of being happy, Emma. I think you think that the natural way of things is for your life to be grim and grey and dour and to hate your job, what where you live, not to have success or money or God forbid a boyfriend (and a quick discersion here--that whole self-deprecating thing about being unattractive is getting pretty boring I tell you). In fact I'll go further and say that I think you actually get a kick out of being disappointed and under-achieving, because it's easier isn't it? Failure and unhappiness are easier because you can make a joke out of it. Is this annoying you? I bet it is. Well it's only just started.

Well I think you deserve more. You are smart and funny and kind (too kind if you ask me) and by far the cleverest person I know. And (am drinking more beer here - deep breath) you are also a VERY ATTRACTIVE WOMAN. And (more beer) yes I do mean 'sexy' as well, thought I feel a bit sick writing it down. Well I'm not going to scribble it out because it's politically incorrect to call someone 'sexy' because is is also TRUE. You're gorgeous, you old hag, and if I could give you just one gift ever for the rest of your life it would be this. Confidence. The gift of Confidence. Either that or a scented candle.

I know from your letters and from seeing you after your play that you feel a little bit lost right now about what to do with your life, a bit rudderless and oarless and aimless but that' okay that's alright because we're all meant to be like that at twenty-four. In fact our whole generation is like that. I read an article about it, it's because we never fought in a war or watched too much television or something. Anyway, the only people with oars and rudders and aims are dreary bores and squares and careerists like Tilly-blood-Kilick or Callum O'Neill and his refurbished computers. I certainly don't have a master plan I know you think I've got it all sorted out but I haven't I worry too I just don't worry about the dole and housing benefit and the future of the Labour Party and where I"m going to be in twenty years' time and how Mr. Mandela is adjusting to freedom"

More than I can say about most adult books, since most of what I read is serial and fluff these days. I was very excited to pick up and read this book and even finished it last night after I had gotten home at two a. m. Overall very touching, sad, moving, and laughable. READ IT!

Oh, and if Dexter had a song it would probably be "Mess I Made" by Parachute.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L7qdlVkgiz0&ob=av2e

Saving the Board Meeting, one pixel at a time

This past week part of my job description was to have dinner with the new employees and their branch managers before attending the BOT (Board of Trustees) meeting, where we would introduce ourselves to the board. I left the library at 5:30pm with my manager, Jessica, and we proceeded to Eggspectations where we met with a few girls I had seen before at orientation and the Deputy Director, John Huddy. I ordered a coffee, which he made fun of me for, and immediately regretted my decision. Normally I can stand coffee in the summer, but it was just too hot. Between the LOTR banter from one end of the table and John having a beverage fight with the woman in front of me (Branch Manager of the Sterling Library) it was a very enjoyable dinner. I hadn't expected my superiors to act upper-crust and professional, but it was a delight to hear my branch manager admonishing the table, "The Director's visit is next week! Remember, no swearing!"

The Board Meeting was everything I expected it to be:  informative, professional, and by the book. There was a recently appointed head of the board who was adjusting to all the procedures involved and wanting to make sure she had every procedure correct. In between the microphones and recorder breaking this was a harried but enjoyable experience. Unexpectedly I was called to step in during a momentous occasion as the head of the Board and representatives from the Middleburg Advisory Board were signing a document ensuing the expansion of the Middleburg Library. "This is a photo op!" someone hailed and then there was a scramble  to find a camera in the room. When the first few people turned out their smart phones I volunteered, "I have an actual camera!" "Who on earth carries a camera with them?" John Huddy asked. "The same type of person who has a dinosaur phone," I rebutted good-naturedly. This alludes to a previous comment John made earlier in the night where he saw me look at my phone for the time and he said comically, "1995 called, they want their phone back." After tripping over microphone wire I managed to get pictures of both parties signing the document on my little digital camera.

This is why I never leave my house without my camera. You never know when it will help make a good impression in front of your superiors.

A Feast of Crows

Tony, a co-worker who is also filed under the heading of my last entry "serendipitous meetings" [more on this later] inspired me to write about Aldous Huxley's children's book The Crows of Pearblossom. Huxley wrote this story for his niece in 1944. This is a very interesting book since it was not only penned by the famous author of A Brave New World but also because of its illustrations.

The Crows of Pearblossom, illustrated by Sophie Blackall, tells the tale of two crows who nest in a cottonwood tree at Pearblossom, with a tenant, Rattlesnake, living below them. This tenancy causes some issue when Rattlesnake comes up to the crows' nest every day and eats however many eggs she hatches that day. Distraught, and accusing her husband of being insensitive to her plight of losing her children, Mrs. Crow (Amelia) suggests that her husband, (Abraham) kill the snake. We he retorts, "Somehow, I don't feel that's a very good idea . . . Your ideas are seldom good," Mrs. Crow angrily tosses the accusation that her husband is afraid. Adamantly he claims is he not and goes to his friend owl in search of an idea to take care of the snake. Together they concoct a scheme of baking two clay eggs and using them as decoys for the snake. Their plan is successful despite Mrs. Crow's misgivings about not killing the snake. Once Mr. Rattlesnake realizes his mistake he so tightly wound around tree branches to help ease his tummyache that he cannot unwind himself. Mrs. Crow proceeds to give him "a very long lecture on the wickedness of eating other people's eggs". There is a happy ending to the tale with Mrs. Crow's abundant brood providing enough diapers that she puts the snake to use as a clothesline to dry them on.

My first instinct with this book that I didn't like it, despite Tony's enthusiasm. I have several reasons for this:

Context: The story itself is dark and filled with the husband and wife insulting each other, bickering crows if you will at every turn, "Abraham, you talk too much. Keep your beak shut and do exactly what I do."/ "Amelia, you talk too much. Keep your beak shut and get out of your nest." The language of the book in this instance is very negative. Also, the vocabulary of the book is very far advanced for the K-3 group, "wickedness", "negelected", "impatient", "vile", "irrigated", etc. Thirdly, there are hidden jokes and adult (not mature) content within the book that the children' won't pick up on. For example, Mr. Crow is portrayed to be a slight crow with striped pants, tiny glasses, and pocket protector, for his job as "assistant manager at the pharmacy" (I'm quoting directly from the book here). And Mr. Owl apologizes to Mr. Crow when he comes to visit because he works the night shift and is in his bedroom slippers. You can ascertain from this fact owls are nocturnal but I don't believe most kindergartenders would pick up on it. I could go on to say what when Mr. Owl and Mr. Crow come to visit Mrs. Crow she is in bed and her hair is in rollers and  Rattlesnake who lives downstairs has argyle socks under his bed and dentures in a cup on his bedside table, implying that he is old. Overall they add a very sardonic humor to the story, especially when coupled with the language but I don't think it's very translatable to this age group that the book is aiming for.

Art: The artwork is brilling on some pages while falling flat on others. On one page Blackall has Mr. Owl and Mr. Crow standing over the chimney waiting for the clay eggs to bake. The entire text of the page is filled within a speech bubble made up with smoke from the chimney. Blackall also does some amazing contrasts with colors such as black and yellow to make the crows stand out. They're drawn with toucan shaped heads and a beady black eye sticking out. Not very kid friendly if you ask me. Furthermore, most of the illustrations use very dull colors and aren't very eye catching for young children.

Overall The Crows of Pearblossom would make a very good art book on someone's coffee table right up there with The Gashcumbly Tinies, but I don't see this book being read very much except by older readers with a very unique sense of humor.

Library Journal does the book justice I think with their review, which you can find here.

[pictures taken from http://blommi.com/the-crows-of-pearblossom-childrens-picture-book-review/]

How Close We Are

It continues to amaze me about the serendipitous encounters of library assistants, archivists, school library media specialists, and librarians new and veteran across the world, particularly the unexpected ones. This past July 4th I was in DC behind the Lincoln Memorial attending a Parks Police Friends & Family get together with a friend from college and her parents. Another family they knew came over and sat with us, the Gallaghers. They had a daughter, Jessica, and all it took was for my friend's mother to point at each of us and say, "Librarian" *pause, pointing to me* "Librarian" and then she walked away, leaving us befuddled finding one our own in a crowd so large. I learned Jessica's backstory throughout the evening. She had just returned from ALA in New Orleans and said that while it was a lovely experience, a lot of the poster sessions were boring and simplified. She spoke of a library from Kentucky who had come to give a presentation about the positive correlation between young adults and food and how this would impact libraries. Jessica seemed to find it obvious that teenagers liked food and couldn't believe the librarians had received funding to come all the way to New Orleans to tell us something we already knew. I thought back at that point back to past visits to my alma mater, where the main campus library was now home to a Starbucks, though there was a second in another dining hall about a five minute walk from the library. I believe there is some merit to studies such as these if anything so we can see how food in the library impacts attendance vs. damage to the materials. In my experience as a library page I saw patrons sneak and blatantly each food in the open in the library. I'm fairly certain we have a policy in the library expressly forbidding food, but people tend to hide in the back of the stacks or in the YA section to eat it.

But I digress...

The more I hung out with Jessica the more I realized that she was a funky, eclectic, and imaginative girl: the best qualities I admire in library ladies. I did also learn that instead of labeling herself an archivist at ALA she wrote "Photo Librarian" on her badge so she wouldn't be badgered by the Archivists exclusively. Her background is in a archives and her past experience includes working as a photo archivist for a Brazilian fashion agency and now she's doing freelance research for authors writing books on LBJ, JFK, and the sex scandal therein.

The rest of the Fourth was spectacular, including the fireworks and how fast we managed to get my friend, her family, my boyfriend, myself, and his Dad out of DC and home (under an hour). I suppose the moral of this blog entry is, you never know when you may be talking to nerd/librarian/archivist/book geek/etc.

We're everywhere, and we're going to stay that way.

Huge News

It is with great pride and excitement that I announce my new position as a Library Assistant for the Ashburn Library in Loudoun County, but also the revitalization of this blog!

My start date is July 7th and I just went through my last shift as a Library Page for the Prince William County Public Library System. Everyone on the circulation, youth services, information, and management staff wished me luck on my journey and it was with a heavy heart that I left them. I don't regret my decision accepting another offer a county away but someday I'd like to return to Prince William County work.

My new position is split between working the Circulation Desk and work the Info Desk for the Youth Services department. Now if only I can remember not to tell patrons to search for a book under the last name of the book's main character instead of the author! There is a possibility that I will be responsible for planning storytimes as well as adult programs. I'm being stationed in the largest library in the county so I'm very excited! It is indeed a new beginning for me and I look forward to jumping in with great vigor!

I have a to-do list and a to-read list a mile long. Here it is abridged:

1. Find out about reciprocal borrowing privileges between Loudoun and Prince William County.
2. Join ALA, PLA, & YALSA again.

My to read list on my book shelf currently consists of the following titles:

1. Laurell K. Hamilton - Hit List
2. Jodi Picoult - Harvesting the Heart
3. Ned Vizzini - It's Kind of a Funny Story
4. Yvonne Woon - Dead Beautiful
5. Sarah Dessen - What Happened to Goodbye

The one thing I will miss the most about working for Prince William County Libraries (besides the wonderful staff I've gotten to know over the last year) is the benefit of being on staff grants me absolutely zero fines and late fees.


As How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying would say, "Onward and Upward!"

Announcement

Due to the overwhelming activities in my life: finding a church, work, finding more work, training for more work, and other things I will be discontinuing my posts of NaPoWriMo's Poem a Day on this blog and all the other social media networks I use. I will continue to write in my dirty green notebook and in time will post the results on my livejournal. Happy writing to everyone else who is participating. Good luck!

Alison's Garden

NaPoWriMo Day 7#

Alison’s Garden

In Alison’s Garden a young boy lies.

His hands are pressed tightly against his eyes.

He counts aloud as seconds pass (one…two…),

his stocking absorbing the grass’s hue.

Alison waits behind a tree nearby.

Her light grey eyes reflect the cloudy sky.

She focuses her mind upon her plan

to try and catch a cricket in her hand.

She concentrates to keep questions at bay

such like those that plagued her nurse every day.

Once Nurse had had enough she bade her, “Go

to the garden and watch the flowers grow.

Some silent meditation will do you good.

Just do not wander off into the wood.”

(three…four…) Alison ceased becoming bored

once she’d unearthed the garden’s treasured store.

Here she could speak freely amongst the birds

and not fear if she had been overheard.

The rocks never minded her queries like,

“What is love?” and “How does the sun alight?”

She thought she heard her mother’s chiming voice

calling to her upon the wind, “Rejoice

my love for every single dawn.

And do not believe those who say you’re wrong.”

Alison oft retold tales from the past

whispered by her ill mother to the last.

By her bedside Alison listened rapt

as her mother unspun yarns so long trapped.

“There was a girl called Alice the Mighty

who lived with your grandparents by the sea.

She loved to sit in her garden and read

And dream of different worlds inside her head.

One day her cat, Dinah, saw a rabbit

and this one had a very nasty habit.

He could never keep time so he was late.

She followed him to the wood (seven…eight…)

She fell down a hidden hole, long and dark.

She grasped for purchase but only felt bark.

She stopped, unlocking a door in the tree.

Oh, my daughter, what worlds there were to see.”

Her mother’s tales comforted Alison

when nights were long after her Mum had gone.

The girl had always thought that she would find

her mother past the world she’d left behind.

A place filled with wonders:  red and white queens,

the most mad tea party you had ever seen,

hatters, mice, Cheshire cats, croquet, glass vials,

singing flowers, changing sizes, and trials.

(nine…ten…) “Here I come!” the white-haired boy cried.

Alison, snapped from her daydreams, replied,

“Cabbot, I’m late!” through the trees she’s running.

The woods were calling and rain was coming.

Library Meeting

My fifth entry for NaPoWriMo was the haikus I posted earlier this week. Here is #6

Library Meeting/Allegro

646 Sewing, clothing, personal living 

Surrounded by women adorned in this year's 

most fashionable glasses, the meeting begins.

You can separate the Adults from the Young Adults

by the elders' preferences for lumberjack flannel and black cardigans.

The young favor argyle and band t-shirts (bravely worn by the

only man in the group). He does not wear glasses.

973 General history of North America; United States

The only article to distinguish the founding matron, 

the fearless leader, of the pages is not what you might think.

No royal purple, no carriage nor demeanor separates her from 

the rest of us, except her Delilah long hair

which she does not cut, to give her strength.

She leads the discussion during this gathering, this mock tea party.

In my opinion, meetings should be conducted only once everyone

has donned a silly hat.

Instead there are colorful lanyards, necklaces, earrings, 

and oversized watches to distract the eye while laboring 

over library standards.

Throughout the suggestions and mandates 

the founding matron listens to all 

with an impartial ear and a patient face.

No hushed tones nor whispers, "Shhhhhh", are heard.

530 Physics

As the meeting continues the pages are separated, for a time,
from the law of the library, entropy.
The library thrives only when patrons come to discover and destroy
the ordered world that we have built for them.
They are agents of chaos in their pursuit of knowledge.
The library mages and pages are the Lords and Ladies of Order,
finding space for the treasured knowledge amidst the cramped shelves
so that it may be perused, purchased or pilfered.

The tallest towers made from books are built every day
and knocked down again by the smallest pairs of hands.

NaPoWriMo Day #3 and #4

Day #3 - I based this poem around a boy I was dating at the time. Our relationship was complicated and felt off in many things, but our passion for alcohol and the sexual tension was not among these things. This is an acrostic for those of you keeping track with poetic form.

In your company (with a bottle of wine)

Whether you tower or kneel before me, with such yearning upon your face, all

I can do is fasten my hand to the banister to prolong the inevitable paralysis. Alas, no

natural remedy exists for lack of equilibrium except the pillars of your arms. Such, div-

ersions cause dizzying divisibility between rationality and desire; circling ever close.

Stricken of sobrietal sense I breathlessly await our collision against the weight of the door.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Day #4 - This sonnet was inspired after watching an episode of Heroes and thinking more about the idea of folding 1,000 paper cranes, about what one might wish for, and if a person's faith in this ritual could change overtime.

1,000 paper cranes

I dreamed I made a thousand paper cranes

Wishing that at the end I would find you.

They sat in lines along my windowpane

as vigilant and patient sentries do.

I almost stopped after I folded two,

the appropriate number in my mind.

“Better to have too many than too few,”

I thought, laying them aside intertwined.

At five hundred my floor became confined.

So from the ceiling they hung, swinging low.

The more I made the more they were refined.

My hopes rose as high as the piles could grow.

I woke and swore my faith would not diminish,

but it’s been months since the last crane was finished.

NaPoWriMo Day #1 and #2

I'll try to hammer these out now since I have to sleep eventually. I might be restricted to only writing these poems on a dirty green notebook I've been carrying around with me since grad school. A lot of drafts get lost in there.

Day 1# - This poem is taken from my sting at committing to Laurie Halse Anderson's promotion of "WFMAD" (Writing Fifteen Minutes a Day) challenge in August of 2010. You can find her website and her list of prompts at her livejournal, Mad Woman in the Forest. You may also remember her as the author of such books as Speak, Catalyst, Prom, Fever, 1776, Wintergirls and Chains  and Forge. She is not only an author whom I admire very much through her edgy writing for teens but also for her historical fiction for younger readers. I had the pleasure of meeting her at last August's American Library Association conference in DC.This poem was also inspired by imagining how assistants would audition for musicians in the days of Harry Houdini and also taken from watching, "The Prestige".

The Turn

Magician’s assistant, just an average pink haired girl, looking for work.

Heard your name recommended through the networks of stage presence.

I do not know your real name but I have heard of your style

And of how you never smile

Unless you can pull the audience in with the use of your teeth and lips. Promises. Practice, Panache. Performance.

I was drawn in by your confidence and your ability to recognize a confident girl, who knows what she wants and goes after it.

My greatest want is you, in so many words, and in so many ways.

I am eager to learn your ways, to work with you, to figure out how one makes magic possible with trust and implied deceit. I know I am not the only one auditioning for this role, but armed with my references and dressed in my best pressed blue crinoline with my best submissive smile I can show you that I can match you on every level of performance.

I will show you tricks you have never seen nor thought possible. This is what my smile is saying. As I prepare for my audition, drawing you in with my grand gestures and willingness to trust you throughout your tests: sawing me in half, drowning me

Instead of sitting, waiting for you to make your decision I will give you a turn. For two can play the part of the magician.

If I can pierce through your smile, your façade, I won’t show my surprise or my efforts to care whether or not in fact I become your lovely lady, your assistant, your partner.

There are many of us out there, but none quite like me. But only if you can part the gossamer curtains of illusion will you be able to see for yourself.

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Day #2

I believe this poem fits well with the themes of this blog, having to do with books. It's inspired by a story that was eventually turned into a film. My goal was to cast the villain in a more sympathetic light while remaining true to his character's instincts. I also have a huge crush for the actor who played this role in the film adaptation of the book. I've asked a lot of people which literary piece they think the poem is based on and I've heard a few good answers including the correct one.


The Vigil
 

The Princess turns her gaze to look upon the tumultuous sea,

Praying to westerly winds to speed her missing love home.

Each night she wears the path from the castle to the cliffs a little deeper,

Believing every night, that this night will deliver a signal from his ship.

The waves, like her faith, ebb and flow every beacon-less night she endures.

Her only companion the wind and her memories of being enveloped in his love.

Though some believe him lost, she believes his homecoming is merely detained.

She has hope, blind as the night, of one day seeing a beam of light shine across the sea.

Miles away, while the Princess loyally maintains her vigil,

A man keeps his own, awaiting her eventual return.

Winds speedily beckon winter’s chill onward, seeping into his skin as it passes through

Penetrating his meditations within the empty castle’s walls.

In his chamber, he lights candles against the dark.

Meant to serve as a comfort to her, more than him,

should she make her way back before dawn.

This signals, as it always does, that her absence was not missed as much as she.

As a Prince, if only in name, he believes that he too is deserving and capable of love.

But beneath his royally robed exterior, drawing from his most base instinct,

The hunter within indicates not to spend himself in pursuit, but to be still,

and the quarry will approach him in time.

In time, he believes she will care for him as he does for her.

But as more of his nights pass alone, he is aware of his undergrown heart withering

with fear that she will always spurn the hunter’s heart for the love of a dread pirate and

never accept the affections that flesh and blood can offer and a whispering wind cannot.

Despite this fear, and the Prince’s right to be angry and devious, he is not cruel to her.

He knows he cannot, nor does he try to impede her pacing pilgrimage to the cliffs.

Instead, he sends his four fastest ships from port to port to pursue and eradicate her past.

But his faith, as his patient body, grows thin with unfulfilled wanting.

Still he has hope, blind as his foresight that his faith will be assured when

the radiant light from her eyes and the sunlit warmth of her skin entwines with him.

At their corners of the kingdom they conjure their respective fairy tales and pine:

            “If only (s)he would come to me,

            Then we would be truly happy.”