Have you heard about The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making?

Um, you need to.

Twelve-year-old September lives in Omaha, and used to have an ordinary life, until her father went to war and her mother went to work. One day, September is met at her kitchen window by a Green Wind (taking the form of a gentleman in a green jacket), who invites her on an adventure, implying that her help is needed in Fairyland. The new Marquess is unpredictable and fickle, and also not much older than September. Only September can retrieve a talisman the Marquess wants from the enchanted woods, and if she doesn't . . . then the Marquess will make life impossible for the inhabitants of Fairyland. September is already making new friends, including a book-loving Wyvern and a mysterious boy named Saturday.

With exquisite illustrations by acclaimed artist Ana Juan, Fairyland lives up to the sensation it created when the author first posted it online. For readers of all ages who love the charm of Alice in Wonderland and the soul of The Golden Compass, here is a reading experience unto itself: unforgettable, and so very beautiful.

I've been hearing A-MAZ-ING things about this one.

And check out Catherynne Valente's website and blog!

So. Now the important part. What do you have to do to win?

check out the trailer: (this is one of my favorite trailers ever!)

Then write a Short Story--100 words--inspired by the trailer

Enter by midnight Friday 6/24. Winner will be posted by 7/1. This contest is open to US and Canadian residents only. But enter as many times as you like.

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Charlie N. Holmberg said...

What a great trailer! What song is that?

LupLun said...

Mmm, I don't know. I've got a great one, but it's not MG-appropraite.

Ah, well, you only live once, right? Here's hoping I don't get mod-whacked:


Of all the thoughts that could have occurred, it was a nursery rhyme. She couldn’t help giggling. It had been her favorite in Kindergarten. All that time, she had sung it and never knew. Her mother had taught it to her. Had she known? And was it more perverse if she had, or if she hadn’t?
She didn't care, lost in bliss. Scrunched up against his naked chest, her boobs resting on his stomach -- all-natural, despite her jealous classmates’ rumors -- she hummed the words softly: "Solve the puzzle, turn the key, bleed a bit and then fly free..."

Lupines and Lunatics

S. D. Grimm said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Christwriter said...

Jo ran through the snow.

We never had roses in December.

“Come on!” My sister held the key up. “It’s this way, Barry!”

But it was just an old garden door; the key wouldn’t fit. Besides, we were moving and the new house had no garden. Joanna said she’d seen a fairy cat in a top hat slinking through the roses. He told her to bring me along.

“Kids! We’re leaving!” Our mother.

“It works!” Jo said. Then, delighted and happy, “Ooh!”

I found the door locked. A thousand blood red petals on the ground.

Jo had gone away.

Cayleigh said...

Sarah swallowed thickly, her stomach twisting as she peered down deep into the foggy contents of the witch's cauldron. Green, black, yellow, red, curling together in noxious, blurry clouds. The witch beamed at Sarah, her leopard whiskers twitching with the strength and insanity of her smile. Sarah looked away, down at her the too-big, too-bright rainbow coat the witch had draped upon her frail shoulders.

“Close one eye before you start,” the witch said, offering Sarah the wooden stirring spoon with her rumpled, thick-veined hand. “Nine times backwards, then sideways ‘round. You’ll bleed a bit, and then fly free.”

Sasha Barin said...

Got the kid on Saturday. Her name was Allie. My girlfriend called her Alimony.
‘Zoo? Pool?’ I offered.
‘No. Tell me a story,’ Allie asked.
It’d be easier if she wanted to know where babies came from.
‘I don’t know any,’ I handed her a pencil. ‘Why don’t you draw your own?’
She took the floor and her notebook, I took the couch and TV.
Osama, Obama and more Kardashian drama. It was getting late.
I woke up alone.
‘Your wife picked her up,’ my girlfriend told me.
I noticed Allie’s notebook on the floor. She forgot her story.

Sara Rayne said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Sara Rayne said...

Trapped in a cage of silence, Rhythm longed for music. She imagined it as waves of brilliant color, soulful greens and blacks, vibrant yellows, reds. Born grateful and un-entitled, she never cursed her plight, never gave in to self-pity. Until now.

The boy singing in the meadow lifted his gaze to the heavens; Rhythm knew his voice followed, soaring to the stars, embracing the Milky Way. When his eyes fell on her, love shone through in the tender orange and pink of glowing embers.

This song was a precious gift.

“Thank you,” she signed.

Precious, though she never heard it.

abrielle1 said...

The train comes to a crossroad; a grinning man is standing by the token-booth. His smile frightens me, for no person’s grin should cover half his face.

“If you tire of your life,
Just a small cut will suffice.
Beads of blood will serve as pay;
That train never stops; it’ll carry you away.”

We screech steadily across wet tracks and I watch the smiling speaker fade.

“Men grow old and die upon this timeless train.
Look around you child; each is droopy and very gray.”

The train comes to another crossroad; a grinning man is standing by the token-booth...

abrielle1 said...

The eyes of the mask-salesman glinted through my windowpane. He slid a gloved hand in.
“Trust this man out here; trust this man who has no face to call his own.”
“How can I trust a mask?” I asked.
“Because lips lie and eyes deceive. But a man who has no face must always speak in truths.”
My hand slid into his, warm against white silk.
“I come from an honest world, where all the men and animals wear masks instead of faces. Would you like to buy a mask?”

Thus I cry behind wood that is forever smiling.

DavidSimon4449 said...

Clouds are the key.

I follow the wind, and so I follow the clouds. They thunder above like migrating herds of white-furred beasts across a pale blue prairie, chasing their shadows upon the tumbling waves below.

There are dangers in the water, but my ship sails true, and my heart is fierce and unafraid. Strange creatures follow in my wake, singing nursery rhymes from other worlds. They try to lull me to sleep, but I will not lay down my head. I must remain alert, for what I seek is ephemeral and easily missed.

I follow the clouds.

KimberlyFDR said...

The key was there, often out of sight and reach. What was September to do? The voices kept urging her forward. "Solve the puzzle. Turn the key." So, with one great breath, she did just that. September thought it might save her friends in Fairyland from the unpredictable orders of the Marquess. In a way, maybe it did.

Saturday was gone. The Wyvern wasn't real. All her adventures in Fairyland had been a dream. She'd solved the puzzle of youth, but now there was no return. September would never be a child again. She shouldn't have touched the lock.

Stephanie Garber said...

The song floated softly through the midst of her thoughts. Her mother had warned her never to sing out loud. But the song just kept repeating, getting louder until it drowned out everything else.

Soon she could no longer take it. She opened her mouth to sing the words. At first nothing changed. So, she let herself sing louder, believing her mother must have lied.

Then the word around her shifted. Everything started spinning, as if she were on a fast moving carousel.

She closed her mouth and ceased to sing. But it was too late.

Her world had disappeared.

S. D. Grimm said...

Black spots, yellow fur, green eyes, melodious purr; it whisked me to fairyland.

Everything was as I’d dreamed! Nothing was ordinary.

Except him.

He made me miss home. He didn’t lure me or demand my trust. He showed me the door called freedom.

Its sign read:
“A scarlet lock, a crimson door, drops of red splash on the floor. Solve the puzzle, guard the key, place it wisely and go free.”

My key would fit! But riddles are never that easy. The answer was clear; a hole in their perfect world.

Someone ordinary.

I gave my key to him.

Sheila JG said...

Awesome trailer! I had to watch it a few times to catch everything. And then the song got stuck in my head. So my story can be read to the same tune:

The Neglected Key

Floating there
O’er your head
“Don’t get on that cat!” I said

Did you listen? Oh, heck no
Someone asks, and off you go

Pet the kitty
Clocks tick tock
I can open up that lock

If you guys would notice me
Won’t someone please notice me?

I’m not hungry
Can we play?
Who asked that weird boy to stay?

Hate the water
Must attest
Don’t think you can
Trust your dress

You won’t miss me
I should go
Folks need keys
Like me, you know

Danger coming
I foresee
Where you going?
Wait . . . for . . . meeeee!

(Looks like an amazing book!)

SkipaChip said...

Circumstances open roads.

Christians say something similar. They tell me “When God closes a door, he’ll open a window.”

Right now, I preferred the version that didn’t mention God.

I will be condemned for what I’d done. Premarital sex. Underage sex. And the circumstances that inevitably follow.

I turn sideways in front of the mirror. My belly is still flat, but soon it will swell. Then the Christians will start to whisper. I can’t let it bother me. Circumstances may not the best, but circumstances have opened the road to motherhood.

And how could anyone think that is bad?

Unknown said...

The key wasn’t the problem. It floated ahead of her, true, but not elusively. Simply illuminating a path. It required no more than her outstretched hand to possess.

It was her.

She didn’t want the key. Didn’t want to know where it would lead. She was comfortable here, deep in the clouds’ foggy embrace. But change was coming. That she knew. Would it ease the transition to know that it had, for good or bad, been her choice?

Tears slid silently down her face as she opened her fist. Cool metal settled on her skin.

The clouds began to clear.

abrielle1 said...

Fog cleaves together, and I see only white. The boy whispers in my ear, sharply. He whispers: “Never cross the bridge.”

The boy is a demon prince, so he knows everything. He knows spirits swirl inside these heavy mists, and he knows the human heart yearns for their forbidden wonders.

My feet pass across the naked wood, and I whisper just as briskly. “Break all the rules, let it be known, when nobody listens all the world’s secrets are somehow revealed.”

Even still I dance across that outlawed bridge. The secrets are all mine; they made me a demon too.

K said...

Liz had been born a seeing child. Assaulted by light, she cried outside the womb, keeping her eyes closed thereafter.

She endured the taunts of peers and pity of parents, ‘til she turned her ears off too. Soft touches and rich smells drew her world’s circumference.

Until the dark came. It was a blessing no one could see another’s frightened face. And Liz was further blessed not to hear their cries. But she smelled their fear and groped until she found one soft hand to squeeze.

Their ever after was short, but shared. She’d found her own way ‘round.