She seemed fragile like a moonflower – destined to bloom for a single lovely night, and then to fade and fall.

The warmth of his embrace soaked into me, a powerful charm against the dark things.

Johnny was sobbing in shuddering gasps, telling me his small tale of woe, that the world was suddently different, and that he wanted me to make it better, right now please." --Liadan's interpretation of her baby's cries.

After a while, footsteps sounded on the flagstones outside and there was a gentle tap at the door. Of course, one of them would come. So close were we, the seven of us, that no childhood injury went unnoticed, no slight, real or imagined, went unaddressed, no hurt was endured without comfort.

Real life is not quite as it is in stories. In the old tales, bad things happen, and when the tale has unfolded and come to its triumphant conclusion, it is as if the bad things had never been. Life is not as simple as that, not quite.

As a novelist, I'm endlessly fascinated by human behavior and interactions.

You cannot poison what is between us with your foul words. She is my light in the darkness and Johnny is my pathway ahead.