Ginny Fartappe was a whimsical, sensitive, determine young woman. You could see the whimsical in her eyes, large brown saucers that looked at you with every expectation that you were a saint and dancing knight in shining, etc. The sensitive was in her wide, tremulous lips—though these were just the front for a tongue that … Continue reading Do Not Misread Whimsy at the Silver Tap Bar
The rhyme is "because." the reason is. . . .
What Winter said was so flagrant in its wrongness that Willow leaned away and gave a polite but windy cough. Clover crumpled up her bright face and green hands and turned rusty brown. Grass, like Willow, leaned away. Sheep huddled against the awful wind, turned their fleecy bums and ducked their heads and scurried off … Continue reading Fable of the Eternal Round