How a Mother Weaned Her Girl from Fairy Tales by KATE BERNHEIMER Page A

otherwise were totally bare, apart from a pink horse my youngest had found in the woods.

    That pink horse, how she loved it.

    Once, when she had gone a long way to gather her treasures—all the way through a natural tunnel that had grown inside the cliff, which led to a narrow beach that would trap you and kill you if you were stuck there during high tide—an old woman with pink hair approached her and sang her a song.

    My daughter told me about this old woman. I almost didn’t believe her. Later that week, the girl brought home a sea urchin, closed. She said that when the sea urchin opened, the old woman would return and on top of that, the old woman had promised to bring us good luck at that time.

    I got an empty jar from the cupboard—a nice jar that had once been full of beach plum jelly but had long been gathering dust. My daughter and I walked down to the edge of the ocean and filled the jar with salt water. Back home, we placed the closed sea urchin carefully inside the jar. It quickly sunk, and stayed closed.

    The next morning, my littlest girl didn’t wake up. The sea urchin had bloomed.

    It was on her grave that my other daughter placed the pink horse. And then she too was taken—by the high tide—the very same week. She’d gone into the magic tunnel at a very bad time. Of course now I do nothing but drink Chelada all day, haunted by pink. Pink urchins, pink cigarettes. Pink horse, pink horse, pink horse on the grave— if ever the pink horse flies into the sky, your daughters will come back to life. The pink-haired old woman sang that to me once when I was passed out in the sand. For now, there you stand in the dark of the wood—beautiful, all-powerful, and silent.

    Pink horse, you are everything, and everything is everlasting in you.

I ’m yours. I will hold you to the sky until my arms get tired and then I will hold you some more. You are very serious. I understand that. It is nice how you gave me my outfit, the one with the knee socks and belt. Also I like to wear the slippers that match the stick handles when we go out. People might wonder why we do this—it is not the usual custom. But we so like to be together: you two gazing off into the distance, me loving you best. We will have each other for always: my legs and your sticks. We have serious eyes; some people think we have problems.

Tale of Disappearance
    When I was still young, my sister told me there was a witch in the woods who tried to find little boys, and when she found them she ate them. My sister kept me safe from the witch, at least most of the time. Then my sister was taken. Before she was taken, she told me to disappear into the woods. She said this would save me.

    She said, Brother, here are the things you’ll need:
    Cardboard
    Brown Paint
    Nails that Change Colors
    Twigs, Six Inches Long, Half Inch Thick
    Gold Bead
    Large Fake Bird
    Pruning Shears

    Brother, she said. You may cut a piece of cardboard about five inches square, and you may paint it brown if desired, or if your chosen cardboard is not brown to begin with; this will help disguise the cardboard, which will then disguise you. Snip your twigs in half and glue them to the front of the cardboard. Keep doing this until you’ve made a small door with a handle. Then, take some more cardboard and make a good roof. And then glue a gold bead to the door’s handle. Nip the legs from the fake bird with pruning shears. Make sure the top of each leg is flat and also is even. Cut a two-inch square of cardboard for each leg and glue these to the cut ends of the legs. Let the glue cure for ten minutes. Place the house on its back with the door facing up. Glue the bird’s legs to the bottom. Let these cure for an hour before standing the house up onto the feet. The house should stand on its own—this is how you know a good house. Put the house in the woods and get inside of the house with all the nails. Hammer the nails into