Fractured Fables: Containing A Spindle Splintered and A Mirror Mended

by Alix E. Harrow

It’s one of the rules for dying girls: if you like something, like it hard, because you don’t have a lot of time to waste.

I DON’T KNOW when I start dreaming, or whether it’s a dream at all. What do you call the vast nothing between the pages of the universe? The whisper-thin nowhere-at-all that waits in the place where one story ends and another begins?

The existence of any story implies the existence of a storyteller.