Author Archives: Theodora Goss

The Cinder Girl Burns Brightly by Theodora Goss Each night, her mother speaks to her out of the fire: come to me, my daughter. Come into the flames. And the Cinder Girl, the one they call Dirty Ella, even the … Continue reading →

Rabbits or Tulips by Theodora Goss I told the tulips that it’s not spring yet, but they’re not listening to me. Instead, they’re poking green leaves out of the ground, like the ears of rabbits, and I wonder, idly, if … Continue reading →

Feeding the Small Gods by Theodora Goss Leave bread soaked in milk for the piskies, those pesky little men in red hats, little women in green skirts, who pinch the cat and sign a treaty with the mouse king, who … Continue reading →

She Speaks Her Mind by Theodora Goss I am too old to fall in love for the first time, to scrape my knee on the slide or break my ankle roller skating, although I once did these things, too old … Continue reading →

The Tooth by Theodora Goss In summer, I chipped a tooth on something — a seed, a small piece of grit, a tiny stone in a bag of green beans. The dentist fixed it with that stuff dentists use to … Continue reading →

All Night Long by Theodora Goss All night long the snow falls down, covering the buildings of the ancient town — the central square, the benches in the park, the lamps that remain shining in the dark, the silent fountain, … Continue reading →

In the Vitrine by Theodora Goss I gave you myself, and you set me on the shelf where you put all your precious things, your father’s watch, your mother’s wedding and engagement rings, the figurines of Harlequin and Columbine from … Continue reading →