Woke up in a palace today. Not like the usual grey-stone castles that feel like crypts. This is an elegant room with marble floors and wide fireplaces. Everything is spotless, but inviting. I wander from room to room and find one dedicated to a million different musical instruments. Does someone really play them all?

There's a room with a long couch (like twice as long as the one in my living room) in front of an equally long hearth and crackling fire. As I get closer, my toes can feel the heat even through my sneakers. The end table has a vase of the most beautiful red and white roses I've ever seen.

"Who are you? What do you want?" asks someone behind me. I turn.

Pretty doesn't begin to describe this girl. I mean, think super model. Only, she doesn't know it. She looks like the nicest girl in the world. Her chestnut hair is in a twist that rests on one shoulder and her cheekbones practically glow. Who is this girl?

"What do you want with me?" she asks.

"Um." I know. Profound. But I honestly can't think of anything to say.

The girl relaxes in the shoulders a takes a steady step toward me. "Are you the one who spoke with my father?" She lifts her eyebrows, looking hopeful. "The one who asked him to bring me here?"

As I realize which fairy tale I'm in, I'm pretty insulted. "Do I look like a beast to you?"

So Many Ideas, So Little Time

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

With all the craziness that is my life right now (you don't even want to know), I've only had time for Ivy posts. I really want to get some of my own writing done, too. I really need to get back into my good writer habits. I have a few book ideas floating around in my head, but I don't have time to work on all of them. (Some day, I hope to be able to juggle multiple projects at once.)

So what do you do when you have too many ideas and not enough time?

I wander the forest, trying to keep the old woman's house close, but also trying not to freeze to death. Yes, I'd rather freeze than go into a disease-ridden room. Can you blame me? That poor woman was so sick she barely looked human. Don't judge me. You didn't see her.

I look over my shoulder and spot the somking chimney. I should probably head back soon. When I turn back around, a wolf is standing right directly in front of me. Yes, he's standing. On two legs. Just like one of those funniest videos. I try not to laugh.

The wolf nods at me. The fur around the scruff of his neck looks so warm. When he talks, it's like silk. "Who are you?"

I smile. He seems nice. "I'm Ivy," I say. I feel like I should be a little smarter about what information I offer to this guy. I mean, he is a wolf. Wolves aren't exactly the heroes of fairy tales.

"What do you want?" the wolf asks. What a strange question. What does anyone want?

Focus, Ivy. "I just got back from that old lady's house," I say, pointing behind me. Think. Please think. This wolf is bad. There's an old woman and ... a little girl. "She's dead." I try to say it as convincingly as possible, but I'm working on the fly here and I don't think he buys it.

Still, the wolf's face wrinkles in concern. Have you ever seen a concerned wolf? It's hilarious. "I think I'll pay my respects." The words slip over his tongue like maple syrup.

My heart drops into my belly, but I manage to smile and nod. "I was just going to look for Little Red Riding Hood and let her know so she doesn't come all this way for nothing." Please please go away.

The wolf's face scrunches up again. "Hmmm." He turns around and walks (still on two legs) out of sight.

The forest fades away.

Even though I'm back in my own bed, I have a hard time falling back asleep. I hope the wolf gave up. I hope the little girl is safe now.

At first, I think I'm dreaming. I JUST got back from Sleeping Beauty last night! How come I can't one night of just warm blanket and pillow? This forest is freezing!

I wrap my hands around my arms and jump up and down a few times. I'm not sure if it helps or not. It looks like it's early morning. The birds are going nuts all around me.

A muffled sound makes me turn around. A small brick house is buried in the woods, a small overgrown garden next to it. The flowers look like they haven't been watered in weeks. Still, it's cute. And I bet it's warm.

Before I get to the door, I hear the muffled sound again. Someone's coughing. I peek in through the window and see the most wrinkled old lady I've ever seen. She looks nice--lots of laugh lines--but her eyes are droopy and her coloring is off. She has the blanket up to her chin. Her huge, whiskey, cone-shaped chin.

To be honest, I don't really want to go in there. She looks really sick. I can practically see the germs settling on the tea kettle on the big black stove. But I can also see the heat rising from the top of the stove.

The old lady hacks a few more times and that decides it. I'll at least take a short walk before braving that death-trap. I take an overgrown path, trying to keep the cottage in sight, in case I change my mind.