There outside her own home, she had caught a glimpse of the inside of the story, the one their parents didn’t want them to know, the reason fairy tales warn children to beware at every turn. You cannot know when evil will appear. That was the inside of the story, waiting to open like a dark flower. She could only see its shadow from the corner of her eye, a large black moth. She spied it only for an instant, but it was long enough for Anne to tug on her sister’s hand and say Hurry, and then they ran so fast it was almost as if they were flying.
