Quotes by Kirsty Logan

When people are cruel its often said that they have no heart, only a cold space or lump of ice in their chest. This was never true of Avalon. She had no heart, everyone knew, but there was nothing cold about her. In her chest burned an enormous coal, white-hot, brighter than the North Star. North knew the truth about Avalon: she was made of fire, and she would burn them all.

It began with the Christmas tree lights. They were candy-bright, mouth-size. She wanted to feel the lightness of them on her tongue, the spark on her tastebuds. Without him life was so dark, and all the holiday debris only made it worse. She promised herself she wouldnt bite down.

The graces are restless today. They pweet and muss, shuddering their wings so that the feathers stick out at defensive angles. I feel that restlessness too. When the sea is fractious like this – when it chutters and schwaks against the moorings, when it wont talk but only mumbles – its difficult to think.

Once upon a time there was an empress, trapped as a ghost in the ruins of a jewelled palace, cursed to find another soul to take her place. At least, thats what the empress heard. But, as it turned out, stories can have any ending you like.

The Cruellest things do not hide in the dark.

Ive thought and thought, but theres no other way to give you the truth except to hide it in a story and let you find your own way inside. All stories contain a truth if you look hard enough - but it might not be a good truth.

I met Baba Yaga at the end of childhood – past pigtails and fairytales, but not quite ready to give up on make-believe.

Daniel first kisses his brother in a town where no-one knows them, a no-account place thats barely even a town, just some buildings clustered around the highway: a smoky bar, an empty motel, a convenience store that only sells candy and condoms and beer. The nearest gas station is twenty miles away. The nearest bus station is fifty.

She used to be all right, Una, when we were kids. I liked that she wasnt fussed about her antlers.

Walking out of the office, her nervous fingers made an ear out of the tissue in her pocket – luckily the thin sheets wouldnt hold the shape, and unfurled as she threw it on the pavement. On the journey home, her bus ticket became a tongue.

That August, Elodie Selkirk became the latest lady in Paris to order a coin-operated boy.

Momma was with the pony last night. Lily and me have him in the mornings, and we give him a wash with the shammy cloths and a soapy bucket so hes ready for Jade to look after him the next night. I think Momma must ride him too rough because hes always sweating and white-eyed when we get him, pulling tight at his rope and spreading his wide beige lips. He wont settle forever and ever, he just turns circles around the stake. Me and Lily get nervy watching him paw scoops out of the backyard soil.

It’s a grace feather. See how its colors shift from green to blue, like the sea? It means remembrance. It shows that no distance, no amount of water between two people, will make them forget. Someone gave it to say that they remembered you.

But life is not a fairy tale. Its brighter and darker, longer and briefer, duller and more magical. Its full of contradictions, but one thing its not is neat.

We grab handfuls of bottles and climb up onto the roof of the house. She stumbles and her foot slips into the gutter sopped with dead leaves. I grab her wrists and pull her clear – sure, shes not the person Id choose to do this with, but shes my only option so I might as well be nice. Plus I dont want her to drop the vodka.