“Fairy tales do not tell children the dragons exist. Children already know that dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children the dragons can be killed.” – G.K. Chesterton
I’m five years old, standing in a drafty church-turned-library. Watery winter sunlight pours through arching windows and catches the dust that trickles from the rafters. All around me, wall to wall and floor to nearly ceiling, brightly colored spines advertise the contents of their hardbound covers. My rural public library is small but mighty, boasting an impressive children’s book selection for a tiny mountaintop town with a population of about 1700, but I don’t know or care about this at the time. I run my fingers along the books I can reach and select a few choice volumes; spines of black, red, or gray, titles written in a drippy or scratchy typeface. Anything with witch, ghost, tragedy, legend, or haunted in the title makes it into my little hands.