We Have Always Lived in the Castle

only wished they would come true. “It’s wrong to hate them,” Constance said, “it only weakens you,” but I hated them anyway, and wondered why it had been worth while creating them in the first place.

A pretty sight, a lady with a book.

Merricat, said Connie, would you like a cup of tea?
Oh no, said Merricat, you’ll poison me.
Merricat, said Connie, would you like to go to sleep?
Down in the boneyard ten feet deep!

I am living on the moon, I told myself, I have a little house all by myself on the moon.

but I liked fairy tales and books of history

I dislike washing myself, and dogs, and noise. I like my sister Constance, and Richard Plantagenet, and Amanita phalloides, the deathcup mushroom.

Our house was a castle, turreted and open to the sky.

Our house was a castle, turreted and open to the sky.

Constance stirred, and the leaves rustled. “The way you did before?” she asked.

It had never been spoken of between us, not once in six years.

“Yes,” I said after a minute, “the way I did before.”

“I wonder if Cousin Mary knows how I get even with people who don’t like me?