Audrey Chu

“What a rotten shilling punter!" said Bramble, tearing her bread to bits. "I can't believe he stole our things! Especially the watch! We stole that watch first, fair and square!”
― Heather Dixon, Entwined

“Mr. Bradford," she said. "I'm not going to propose to you."

The twinkle in Mr. Bradford's eyes faded. So did his smile. He managed to keep it on his face. It looked painful.

"Oh," he said.

"Mr. Bradford?"

"Yes?"

"Would you mind it so very much if...you know...you proposed to me?"

The light in Mr. Bradford's eyes jumped to life. He beamed so largely it almost wasn't crooked.

"If you want.”
― Heather Dixon, Entwined

“From a memory deep inside her, so faint it only held sounds and slips of color, a tiny, three-year-old Azalea wailed, "Papa."

"Papa," said Azalea to the lifeless form of the King. The word was so forgein, it choked her throat. "Papa... you can't leave us, Papa... It would be very...out of order-"

Bramble knelt opposite her, grasping the King's bandaged hand.

"She's-she's right, Papa," Bramble stuttered. "We have...rules..."

Clover fell to her knees and pressed her handkerchief to his chest. Blood soaked through.

"Papa," she whispered.

The girls knelt around the King, their skirts spead out like forlorn blossoms, swallowing , and whispering one word.

"Papa."

"Papa."

"Papa.”
― Heather Dixon, Entwined

“What did Fairweller say? When you delivered the note?"
"Oh," said Clover, calming a little. "Well...nothing, actually. I sort of...accidentally...tore it to pieces."
"Accidentally," Azalea echoed.
"And threw it into the fire," said Clover.
"Oh.”
― Heather Dixon, Entwined