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Liz Milne

Once upon a time there was a princess who lived in a tall tower in the forest. This was not as bad as it sounds as she had Wi-Fi access.
        Using the internet, the princess discovered how she had been stolen away from the king and queen by an evil witch. She sent the palace an email, detailing where she was and turned on geo-tagging too.
        Before long, the palace guard had surrounded the tower and rescued the princess, taking her home.
        Much later, a handsome prince rode past the tower. He lingered a moment, sure that something significant was meant to happen …

When the bears returned from their walk, a small girl had broken and entered their home – just entered, really, as they left their door unlocked. They found that not only had she trespassed, she had stolen their food too, sampling a bit of each bear’s porridge, before bouncing on each of the beds. Then they discovered that the intruder was still there, sleeping in the smallest bed. They stood around uncertainly, wondering what to do.
        Eventually, the small girl stirred and stretched, yawning prettily. Then she saw the bears and screamed and screamed.
        So they ate her, just to stop the noise.

Cinder’s Truth
I never let animals do housework. Ever. And wanting to go to that party, per-lease. I wanted to scrub the kitchen table – first chance in months to get that thing properly clean. My stepsisters are constantly sitting at it, stuffing themselves.
        I could have had hours…
        But then that woman showed up, the weirdo with the wand. Saying I ‘had’ to go, that it was ‘destiny’. Gave me a dress from TKMaxx, shoes from Primark, limo from LimosRUs.
        I got out of there at about midnight, when wotsisname got handsy, as they all do. I dropped a pumpkin I’d nabbed from the kitchen – got a great soup recipe. Shoe came off too. Primark crap.
        Thought I’d got away, but he’s found me – that’s him knocking now.

Little Red
The forest was dark and loomed. The little girl could recognise a good metaphor for the unconscious when she saw one, but that didn’t stop her from being afraid of the tall grabbing trees, the glowing eyes that weren’t really there and the shadows that grew and followed and spread.
        So she ran as fast as she could, keeping to the bright narrow path, running back to the safety of home, terrified to stray from the path. Off the path, she might fall into the clutches of the wolf.
        And she might like it.