ENCHANTED FAIRY TALES is a collection of some of the most famous and beloved classic Fairy Tales, written by great authors of the past. These stories have been adapted and illustrated by Judy Mastrangelo, who is a world-renowned Artist and Author specializing in fantasy artwork. Her beautifully detailed and colorful paintings follow in the Fine Art tradition of the “Artists of the Golden Age of Illustration”. For those of all ages who enjoy the world of fantasy, this book will be a magical delight. Some of the stories she has chosen for this book are: Peter Pan, Hansel and Gretel, Cinderella, Thumbelina, The Wizard of Oz, Alice in Wonderland, The Frog Prince, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Sleeping Beauty, King Arthur, Jack and the Beanstalk, etc.
My review
For me, Judy Mastrangelo’s books are all about the fantastic illustrations. It’s not that her stories are not lovely, it’s just that her illustrations are so completely amazing, everything else fades in comparison. I was a little girl who adored fairies, princesses, and magic and mystery and I would have loved these books. As an adult, I still enjoy these things and take delight in reading Ms Mastrangelo’s lovely little stories and looking at the pictures, again and again.
This book is also very worthwhile from a literary point of view for children. The author has taken a selection of popular fairytales and other famous stories and summarised them into bite sized chunks suitable for younger children. I was delighted to see some of William Shakespeare’s plays included in an abridged form including The Tempest, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and Romeo and Juliet, as well as some other favourite stories of mine like Thumbelina, Hansel and Gretel and Alice in Wonderland. There were also a few stories from Greek mythology which I know from personal experience with my sons, nieces, and nephews are hugely popular.
I am a fan of abridged versions of stories for young children because they introduce them to the delights of fairy tales and other stories, without bogging them down in sophisticated detail. Children who are introduced to abridged classics and fairytales often go on to read the original versions when they are older.
This is a book that would delight any child’s heart and make a wonderful and special gift.
Purchase Enchanted Fairy Tales by Judy Mastrangelo
Imagine moving to a foreign country where you don’t know anybody, don’t understand the language, can’t read signs, labels, or directions, and you’re too young and inexperienced to be aware that their customs are different than in your country. Imagine being forced to attend a foreign school there, where no one speaks your language.
Welcome to my world. I was twelve when Dad retired from the military, packed up his family and belongings, and herded us to Germany, where I started the equivalent of fifth grade. I felt like baitfish thrown in with sharks.
We five siblings grew up together in that life, each of us from one to two years apart—an adorable staircase of kids—girl, boy, girl, boy, girl. Our sister, three years older than I and our Dad’s daughter, lived with her mom and wasn’t allowed to join us, even for visits. We knew of her but had never met her. I longed to have her with us because being the first of five siblings was no picnic, and she would have been the first of six and responsible for all of us. She would also have gotten the blame for everything anybody else did. Instead, that honor was mine. I digress.
As you’ll read in this excerpt from Reflections of a Misfit, I also longed for a big brother, but for different reasons. Protection would have helped in the hostile environment of a foreign school. I didn’t know it then, but I had all the protection I needed.
~~~~~
BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING
I spent my fifth grade in a German school. My family moved from Texas to Germany, and Dad was no longer affiliated with the military. He and Mom couldn’t afford the tuition that civilians were charged for the American schools, so we went to a local German school.
In retrospect, it was a wonderful educational experience, but it sure was tough at the time. No one spoke English to us, and we didn’t know a word of German. By the end of the year, we were fluent in the language and things were looking up.
Then we moved to Italy and repeated the process in an Italian school. I had to learn Latin and Algebra right along with Italian. I considered that three foreign languages at once.
The kids in those schools were like kids everywhere. At first, we felt as if they were always staring and talking about us. It hurt when they’d laugh and turn away. Some were friendly, others not so much. I longed for a big brother to shield me from the pain of perceived rejection. I felt vulnerable and a little lost. I wish I had known then that I did have a big Brother who was watching out for me, every minute of every day, according to Paul in Romans 8.
“Who would dare tangle with God by messing with one of God’s chosen?”
God knows us by name. He called us. He chose us.
“Do you think anyone is going to be able to drive a wedge between us and Christ’s love for us?
“There is no way! Not trouble, not hard times, not hatred, not hunger, not homelessness, not bullying threats, not backstabbing, not even the worst sins listed in Scripture.”
Paul should know. He experienced it all. “None of this fazes us because Jesus loves us. I’m absolutely convinced that nothing—nothing living or dead, angelic or demonic, today or tomorrow, high or low, thinkable or unthinkable—absolutely nothing can get between us and God’s love because of the way that Jesus our Master has embraced us.”
How can we lose with God on our side? He sent his Son for us. What wouldn’t he do for us? Jesus is in the presence of God the Father right now, sticking up for us. Who wouldn’t want such a big brother standing against the bullies of the world?
Over time, I learned the languages of the countries we lived in and discovered that people are the same everywhere We all need the assurance that we have someone watching out for us. I’m so grateful that Paul shared this assurance with us.
~~~~~
Short bio for Reflections
P.T.L. Perrin (Patty) wasn’t interested in the Bible, but as much as she tried to evade the God of the Bible, she found Him at every turn. She finally surrendered and wondered why she’d run for so long.
Patty grew up as a military brat in Europe, where she attended German and Italian schools before American high school and college. She draws from a deep well of life experiences and has discovered that we are all misfits in some way.
Patty and her husband live in south Florida, the happy grandparents of a fluid, constantly growing family.
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We often hear that music is the universal language. It is the avenue to bridge all divides –
racial divides
gender divides
political divides.
But, in the midst of all the division,
each party holding court in their respective corners of the ring,
ears lightly tickled by the sound of the simple “IMAGINE” by John Lennon,
wafting through the musky air of tear gas, rubber bullets and water cannons –
a mist of standstill calms the noise
…and in mere moments, the eyes of “independent” onlookers are pleasantly greeted by the most beautiful and welcoming sight –
…bodies slowly rocking
…hands collectively raised
…waving side to side
…all in unison
…chanting
“Imagine there’s no heaven. It’s easy if you try…”
The 2020 US election has ended. The people have spoken.
What’s left behind? A world of anxiety and angst – wrapped in feelings of wondering when the bombs will drop, or when the other shoe will fall. And although I’d like to point fingers here and maybe even call a few not-so-pretty names, my daughter sits beside me as I write this, an ear to measure the “nice” level in my words, the child guiding the parent. Roles reversed, she gently reminds me that the original goal of this message is unification – therefore, I will stay the course of peace.
In this moment, acknowledging that my conscience of decency is bigger than any emotion that might be stirring the embers of fires that have burned deep inside me for the past few years – neutrality is my cohort, and we will not take sides.
Instead, all that will be allowed to roll off my tongue is FACT…
one reign is ending
and another about to begin.
Some exultant…
others despondent
Yet, now is not the time for either.
Yesterday is gone,
today almost a memory,
but what awaits us in tomorrow
is what WE decide it will be.
This is not the land of us and them –
this is the world of WE.
WE decide what, who and how WE want to be.
Do you resemble love, or, are you wearing the likeness of hate?
What adorns your heart, a choice only you can make … for you.
So, I have made my choice – and it is firm and true!
I choose love.
To love,
to be loved,
to speak love,
to exude love,
to live love.
Because I know that what I send out into the world, will be exactly what the world returns to my doorstep.
It is for that reason that I shall…
remain steadfast in my vigilance –
cognizant of any negativity that might try to seep in or out of my pores –
Skillfully suppressing the desire to gloat in the face of the so-called “losing” side.
I’ve too much pride…to stoop so low.
The 2020 US election has ended. The people have spoken.
There were no losers.
WE are a world of winners.
Remember, WE decide
what
who
and how
WE will be
in this…
beautiful
colorful
everchanging
world of WE.
“Imagine there’s no country It isn’t hard to do Nothing to kill or die for And no religion too Imagine all the people living life in peace…
It’s all easy if WE try.”
***
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This piece is in remembrance of my Creative Writing student, Gill Pontin, who suddenly passed away in October 2020. Gill was an artistic dynamo whose enthusiasm, creativity and laughter will be dearly missed. She was a key participant when our group developed a new world, Creedland, and this story is set in Vape Town.
“Whoa, boy.” Blade Driscoll tugged on the reins and pulled his destrier to a halt. He surveyed the outskirts of Vape Town, unsurprised by the ramshackle buildings and pock-marked roads. The air reeked of burnt sugar and the back of Blade’s throat tingled. Between his thighs, Stormbolt shifted, wrinkling his equine nose and shaking his head from side to side. The horse’s plated armour clinked together destroying any attempt at stealth. Blade nudged his mount towards the main street, the sooner he finished his business in this cesspit the better for his sanity.
Pink-eyed townsfolk slunk away from the war horse’s hoof spikes. Pastel smoke billowed from a series of chimney stacks and led him to the front steps of the Crystal Tavern. Scantily clad fairies with tattered wings slouched against the verandah railings. Out of habit, Blade scanned their faces but didn’t recognise any familiar features. He didn’t waste his breath asking after his friend as their vacant stares and pink-tinted irises indicated their minds were lost in a kaleidoscopic haze.
Crystal Pink was manufactured from bog flowers and utterly irresistible to fairies. Its euphoric buzz leached away their magic, attacked the delicate blood vessels in their wings, rendering them flightless, before their bodies swelled to human size. The only way to gain their fix was to enslave themselves to Gurezil Flintsunder, owner of the Crystal Tavern, the unofficial mayor of Vape Town, and the largest whore-master this side of the Despicables. Lowlifes flocked from every dark corner of Creedland to sample the unique fairy delights.
Blade dismounted and left Stormbolt’s reins dangling, ready for a speedy exit. Anyone foolhardy enough to try to steal the stallion would learn how hard the war horse could bite.
Blade checked his weapon inventory. If blood flowed today, he didn’t intend any of it to be his.
Before the saloon doors swung shut behind him Blade tugged a bandanna over his mouth and nose. Steam laced with cotton candy sweetness curled through the dimness. Chunks of crystals simmered in heated ceramic bowls, producing bubbles and sickly fumes. Each table featured glass paraphernalia plugged with multiple hoses. Tendrils of pink smoke escaped from the pipe tips.
Pain pulsed in Blade’s forehead and his eyes watered. He sipped shallow breaths as he scanned the front parlour, counting four patrons slumped in the booths. Their hands grasped the tubes as if they were lifelines. Fools; it was death they courted.
A month ago, he’d rescued Maie Quickthistle from Gurezil’s clutches, sneaking her away while the tavern slumbered. When she’d surfaced from the drug’s grip she’d attacked him like a demented harpy, begging for her next fix. He responded by locking her inside a rented room, but she’d broken out the window and hightailed it back to the Crystal Tavern. After that failure, he decided to change his tactics.
A bartender slumped across the bar and ignored Blade as he slid into an empty booth and shuffled into the shadows. From here he had an unobstructed view of Gurezil’s office door and a ringside seat to the drama he knew was about to unfold. The next bog flower shipment was due within the hour, and he wanted to witness Gurezil Flintsunder’s reaction when he learned his entire crop had been destroyed. The poison had cost Blade his life’s savings but the wizard assured him that this would taint the bog for generations. With one application he’d wiped out the only source of Crystal Pink.
Half an hour later, boots thundered along the passageway and a man hammered his fists on the office door. “Boss, there’s a problem with the latest shipment.”
Gurezil flung the door open and stomped into the hallway. “If those imbeciles have stolen as much as one flower I’ll strip the flesh from their hides and feed it to the fairies.”
“There are no flowers.” The man held out a limp vine. “Something’s wrong with the whole patch.”
Gurezil snatched the vegetation out of the man’s hand, lifted it above his nose, and sniffed it. The blood vessels on his cheeks blazed beetroot. “Stinks of spoiled magic. There’s no time to waste, saddle up the horses and the wagons, we need to salvage what’s left.”
Blade stayed in the shadows until they disappeared outside. Whistling, he ascended the stairs two at a time before gently opening every door along the top corridor. A rush of stale air tainted with the drug’s signature sweetness filtered into the passage. Fairies dozed on bunks, oblivious to his presence as their minds languished in a hypnotic blur. He didn’t desire to be anywhere near Vape Town when their mass withdrawal kicked in. Dealing with one psychotic fairy was enough to test a man’s mettle.
He counted his blessing when he found Maie Quickthistle out cold, making it easier to transfer her onto Stormbolt’s saddle. As a precaution, he bound her hands together and checked her pockets for hidden daggers. Earlier, he’d prepared a campsite in the surrounding woods as he understood the next two days were going to be tough on the both of them.
If he’d known how sharp fairy teeth were he might have reconsidered this rescue plan. Bloody bite marks and grazes marred his forearm and face, and he was sure he was missing a piece of his ear. His ears throbbed from Maie’s constant shrieking, and he hoped she’d have no memory of all the things she’d offered him in exchange for a fix.
After a sleepless 48 hours, his eyes were redder than an addict’s and his thoughts foggy. Maie’s limbs contorted into a fetal knot and whimpers escaped her throat. She was quieter than earlier, but he kept his distance as she’d lured him into striking range before. He yawned and struggled to keep awake. Perhaps he’d snatch a moment’s rest.
Something fluttered against his cheek and Blade wrenched his eyes open. Tiny fairy wings whirred close to his face. He held still as Maie planted a kiss on the tip of his nose. “You saved me.”
Lightness flooded Blade’s soul. “Of course, that’s what friends do.”
Thank you for supporting this member along the WATCH “RWISA” WRITE Showcase Tour today! We ask that if you have enjoyed this member’s writing, please visit their Author Profile on the RWISA site, where you can find more of their writing, along with their contact and social media links, if they’ve turned you into a fan.
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Alice bounds into the library, just in time to see the tails of Mr Rabbit’s coat disappearing through the closing door.
“Mr Rabbit,” she cries, “Oh, do wait for me, Mr Rabbit.”
The door hesitates, and then slowly swings back open.
A quivering nose peers around the edge of the doorframe, followed by a pair of pink eyes behind wire-rimmed spectacles.
“Alice, is that you, dear girl? How wonderful to find you in the library? I was just passing through the secret door into Wonderland. Would you care to join me?”
“Oh, yes, thank you, Mr Rabbit.”
Alice bolts across the floor and slips through the doorway between the numerous volumes of leather-bound books into a world of fantasy and imagination.
Alice looks around. She is not in a dark hole, tumbling down, down, down, towards the centre of the earth; she is in a large hall.
On one side of the room stands a bank of computers. Children sit in front of the blinking screens with their eyes riveted on the flickering figures in front of them. Headphones cover their ears, making them look like aliens from outer space. Although dozens of children sit in front of a similar number of machines, no one speaks, there is no discussion or banter, each child is focused solely on their own game. The only sound is the soft movement of the many mice across the mouse pads.
“Wow,” whispers Alice, “look how immersed the children are in their games. They are completely transfixed.”
“Yes, they are,” agrees Mr Rabbit, “they barely take the time to blink.”
A happy murmur of voices attracts Alice’s attention to the other side of the sizable hall. A large group of small children are gathered around a central teacher who is reading to them from a large book. Every now and then the teacher pauses, holding up the book so that the children can see the illustrations. The soft babble is the children admiring the pictures and asking the teacher questions. Bookshelves line the walls, and this side of the hall is happy and welcoming, filled with bean bags and relaxed and smiling children.
Older children look through the books on the shelves, carefully removing a book and reading the blurb, before either returning it to the shelf or walking over to a bean bag and sitting down to read. Alice watches as an older girl explains a difficult word to a younger boy.
Mr Rabbit stands in the middle of the room. In one hand he holds a computer mouse and in the other, a bookmark.
“One side will grow your comprehension, reading skills, empathy and imagination,” he says, “and the other will shorten your concentration span and reduce your ability to cope, socialise and deal with stress. Choose carefully, Alice, as your choice will change you forever.”
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