August 2, 2022


Dear Enchanted Conversation Readers:

This site is now an archive of older material. We cannot move everything to our new site. Also, while we always said that we would archive posts indefinitely, we did not guarantee that we would leave published stories and poems here up until the end of the internet.

Since all rights revert to the author after publication, we hope writers will take advantage of that and post their works themselves on other platforms. If this situation is unsatisfactory, please let us know, and we will remove any works you wish us to from this site.

Some stories and poems have been taken over to the new site at We did that so the new site would show up better in searches, as Google prefers site with a fairly large back catalog. We will probably change that situation at some point.

This site loads very slowly. We know that. That’s why we quickly created a new one—although a site change was already planned. Nonetheless, we cannot afford to do a wholesale move. And this site has the EC name. We have dropped that, and are just The Fairy Tale Magazine now.

In addition, if all of the old material is on the new site, why would we ever do a “Best of” book or use them on the new magazine format? That makes no sense. We are figuring all of this out as we go, and that’s something we have realized.

We hope that people will treat the changes we’ve made with generosity of spirit, as we have tried to do over the years with our our authors and readers.

The new site, with all of the info on what’s happening in the future, is at

Image from Pixabay.


Kate Wolford 

July 19, 2022

Big Changes at the Magazine, By Kate Wolford


Hello Enchanted Friends:

I’m busy picking stories and poems for the next issue, and with that in mind, I want to let you know that the August issue will be a small one. We will then go on hiatus in terms of buying and publishing new work through the end of the current year. That means submission windows will not be open again for publication in 2022. We are doing this to allow us to save money and time for the new publication we are launching in 2023!

This is a long post, but please read the whole thing. I hope you’ll like what I’m saying here.

Here are some of the big changes:

We’ll be getting a gorgeous new site thanks to Amanda Bergloff, Art Director and all-around-site genius. You’ll be seeing that debut soon. We know this current site is very slow! Believe me, WE KNOW!

Our theme for 2023 is LOVE, with a special emphasis on romance. There will be two reading periods for next year’s submissions. I haven’t nailed down the dates exactly, yet, but I’m thinking that the first will be from early December of this year through mid-January, 2023. The second will probably be from the beginning of next May through mid-June. I’ll announce them formally in the next couple of months.

We are publishing four issues next year. We will still be paying $50 per work (and probably buy around 30 total works next year), but I am going to allow a wider range for length, because some writers would rather be paid less per word and tell a longer story. That has been a consistent concern for many writers for years when they submit to us.

The four issues next year will be available in a splendid digital magazine form from the platform ISSUU. The issues will be filled with art, poetry, short stories and “The Best of” from years past. (Best of writers will be contacted and have a new contract when we do that, and can refuse to participate.) At the end of the year, we will publish a print yearbook for 2023. That means that stories and poems (including “The Best of”) published digitally from 2023 will be on actual paper! At last! 

We will formally be doing business as “The Enchanted Press,” starting Jan. 1, 2023. We will also be a nonprofit. That means that what we earn has to significantly go to the health and welfare of  the business, and that’s how I’d like to run things. Our financial statements will have to be filed with the state of Indiana starting in January, because we will have to be transparent.

The other reason why we are going nonprofit is that we are going behind a paywall starting in January, and I hope that knowing the magazine is run as a nonprofit will encourage people to pay the low subscription rate per year. I haven’t decided how much the subscriptions will be, but they will not be high cost, I promise. Yes, you will be able to buy single digital issues, but the value of a yearly subscription will be higher. The yearbook will be sold separately.

We are going behind the paywall so the magazine can continue. It’s that simple. With the stock market in a mess, inflation on the rise, and my husband and I approaching our retirement years, I have to find a way to keep the magazine going and at least have it break even. 

But we hope to do so much more. If enough people subscribe and become patrons, we can become a small-time book publisher of anthologies and poetry chapbooks. We dream of making The Enchanted Press a small but very real player in the fairy-tale/magic realism segment of the book market.

To that end, in addition to subscriptions, we’ll be offering memberships at different levels to help support the site, and we’ll be selling merchandise on the site. We will not be using Patreon—and that campaign was suspended at the beginning and of this month—but will have our own pledge system that cuts the cost of Patreon out. We hope the added value we offer next year will encourage people to subscribe and buy memberships that will allow The Enchanted Press to expand.

Next to last: There will be a spectacular serialized novel for subscribers in 2023, and I couldn’t be prouder! I’ll be dropping more hints in the future, but it’s by Lissa Sloan, one of my favorite writers.

(That’s in addition to all the great work the very talented Kelly Jarvis, Contributing Editor, will be doing for the magazine.)


Enchanted Conversation

has officially become

The Fairy Tale Magazine.

To be honest, I got tired of having to write out Enchanted Conversation a long time ago, and I want the publication to reflect The new site will reflect the name change.

That’s all! Feel free to comment below or email me at

Yours in Enchantment,

Kate Wolford 

June 28, 2022

Women of the Golden Age of Illustration: Margaret Evans Price, By Amanda Bergloff



The Golden Age of Illustration is a term applied to a time period (1880s - 1920s) of unprecedented excellence in book and magazine illustrations by artists in Europe and America. Advances in technology at the time allowed for accurate and inexpensive reproductions of their art, which allowed quality books to be available to the voracious public demand for new graphic art.

When many people think of the Golden Age of Illustration, Arthur Rackham, Edmund Dulac, and other male artists come to mind, but there were also female artists that excelled during this time.

Margaret Evans Price was one such artist that produced magical work, so learn a bit more about her and her art below...

Margaret Evans Price (1888 - 1973) was an American children's book illustrator and author, but did you know that she was a co-founder of Fisher Price, one of the world's most popular toy manufacturers?

Margaret was interested in art from a young age and when she was twelve, she sold her first illustrated story to the Boston Journal. She received a formal art education in Boston at the Boston Academy of Fine Arts, then moved to New York City for freelance illustration work. There, she worked for publications like Harper & Brothers, Rand McNally, and Stecher Lithography creating illustrations for children's books of fairy tales and myths.

But illustration work was not her only career path as in 1930, along with her husband, Irving L. Price, Helen Schelle, and Herman J. Fisher, Margaret co-founded the Fisher-Price toy company that still exists today. She was the first Art Director of Fisher-Price where she designed push-pull toys based on characters from her children's books.

Margaret continued to exhibit her art in national galleries in the U.S. after the formation of Fisher-Price. Her art was not only published in children's books, but also in Nature Magazine, The Women's Home Companion, and Pictorial Review. A permanent collection of her works are housed at the New York Historical Society.

Margaret's simple, graphic style, combined with her beautiful compositions, makes her art enchanting for children and adults.

Check out her work below:

From Once Upon a Time - A Book of 

Old-Time Fairy Tales, 1921
From Enchantment Tales for Children, 1926
From A Child's Book of Myths, 1929

From Once Upon a Time - A Book of 

Old-Time Fairy Tales, 1921
From Off to Bed, 1920
Cinderella & Her Godmother, 1939

From Once Upon a Time - A Book of 

Old-Time Fairy Tales, 1921
The Land of Nod, 1916
The Old Woman & Her Pig, 1928
From A Child's Book of Myths, 1926
On the Road to Storyland1926
From A Child's Book of Myths, 1926
Beauty & The Beast, 1921
Little Red Riding Hood & The Wolf, 1921
From A Child's Book of Myths, 1926

And if you'd like to read a full children's book

that Price illustrated, you can find

The Troubles of Biddy


Enchanted Conversation's contributing editor, Amanda Bergloff, writes modern fairy tales and speculative fiction. Her work has appeared in various anthologies, including Frozen Fairy Tales, After the Happily Ever After, and Uncommon Pet Tales.

Follow her on Twitter @AmandaBergloff

Check out her Amazon Author page HERE

Join her every Tuesday on Twitter for #FairyTaleTuesday to share what you love about fairy tales, folktales, and myths.

Also, if you like sharing your #vss fairy tales on Twitter, follow @fairytaleflash and use #FairyTaleFlash so we can retweet!


Cover: Amanda Bergloff

June 18, 2022

Snowballs for Angels: Essay by Priya Sridhar

Editor's Note: Today's essay, by Priya Sridhar, takes Hans Christian Andersen's tale of "The Little Match Girl," and looks at it through a modern literary interpretation. Enjoy!

Modern takes on classic fairy tales can prove fascinating when they subvert the original narrative. Whether it's differing values, updated understanding of gender and economics, and plain wanting to add a new message, you can always find a new spin on older tales.  

Hans Christian-Andersen (HCA) earned fame in Denmark for his fairy tales. While a few had happy endings, the more infamous ones went to the downer conclusions. HCA believed that true love was hard to find and that sometimes death is the only happiness someone can find in their quest for dignity, or for a warm bed at night. Then modern writers like Terry Pratchett would lovingly mock this, and affirm that everyone may live, getting some comfort.  

Matches In The Snow

"The Little Match Girl" is one of the most depressing HCA tales, and that is saying something. Even the first line warns us about the depression to come: "It was so freezing."

We see the title character attempt to sell matches during a cold wintry night. She has a few coverings, and while she left the house with oversized slippers, a boy stole one of them and a horse carriage accidentally knocked off the other. If she doesn't sell any matches, then her father will beat her for bringing no coins home. Rather than go home after no customer comes to help, the girl crouches between two sumptuous houses and starts lighting matches to keep warm. They show her visions of loveliness to help her cope with the cold. People ignore her while going about their commute to work, or doing the shopping.  

As the night gets cold, the matches show different scenes: warmth from a stove, a good Christmas meal, and a shooting star. When she sees her grandmother in heaven, the girl asks for her grandmother to take her there. 

HCA was not in a happy state of mind when he wrote this. You can tell that he knew how to get into the mindset of someone facing a bitter cold in winter. 

Hogfather Says No To This Ending

In Discworld, the fantasy parody series by the late Terry Pratchett, the little match girl story plays out during a segment in both the novel and television special Hogfather. Albert and Death encounter her still body in the snow, while Death is filling in for the world's Santa Claus, the Hogfather. Death says that a little girl should not freeze in the night. He says that it is not fair, and this is a chance to right a wrong. 

Albert, a retired wizard, and overall cynic, tells Death that it's how the winter stories go. Going against the status quo should find disruption. Everyone romanticizes a girl freezing to death in the snow while thanking their stars that it wasn't them. Normal folks have enough food and coal to get through the night and if they don't, then at least they aren't a child freezing in the snow. They can tell stories to make up for the drafty holes in the wall. 

If Death weren't the Hogfather, and if not for events in previous books, he would have accepted this state of affairs. Death is not fair, and he comes for everyone. An earlier book had him chide an apprentice for saving a princess from a pre-appointed assassination, complete with smacking him on the face for insubordination. But here, Death says no. He gives life, rather than reaps it. The match girl is not a fictional character, but an actual child that he can carry in the snow. 

You may not see this in the film because it would have broken the budget, but the "affronted" angels show up to collect the match girl's soul and take her to heaven. Albert responds by tossing snowballs at them so they will go away. Even though Albert tells Death to let the story play out as is, he listens to his master. 

Unlike the original fairy tale, we see the angels attempt to complete the tale. Death asked why didn’t they come earlier, to give the child a hot drink and a blanket. He has a point and shows that he puts his money where his mouth is by picking up the child and asking several constables to give her a place to sleep for the night, and a meal. Angels are supposed to be protectors. Yet they did not protect an innocent kid. 

Why is it important that Albert toss snowballs at the angels? He shows them how humans feel about the cold, and how an object traditionally used for child's play can prove annoying and disruptive to a formal occasion. This is not a time to be civil, but to show anger.

Add A Level Of Disruption

Sometimes we cannot accept children freezing in the snow. We can't tell a crying kid, "There are starving children in Somalia, cheer up." You can't let the little match girl serve as your cautionary tale against parental abuse and thieves that steal slippers from the vulnerable. 

Pick up that child if you can, and change the story. Show that happiness is possible, even if difficult to reach. Instead of waiting for the angels, shoo them away, and use your powers for a new ending. 

Priya Sridhar has been writing fantasy and science fiction for fifteen years, and counting. Capstone published the Powered series, and Alban Lake published her works, Carousel and Neo-Mecha Mayhem. Priya lives in Miami, Florida with her family.

Illustration: The Little Match Girl by Arthur Rackham

June 6, 2022

Windy Season, By Eve Morton


On the first day of Windy Season, Mina woke at dawn. The house was already filled with life. Her mother boiled water in the kitchen, the hiss of steam matching the clattering of the wind against her window pane. Her brothers whispered in the room beside hers, the walls thin as the skin over their bones.

"When the North Wind wakes, He carries a large sword," Vincent said, reciting the chant her family had spoken for years. "He cuts down the trees so the seeds will spread and circle the globe, making new life and forms."

"Then the West Wind carries a large spoon to stir the waves," Samuel added, his voice reedy like the wind through the chimney. "He scoops up the pearls, the fish, the whales, and sweeps what we need onto the shore, to eat and rejoice."

"Then the South Wind swallows the land whole. He kicks up dust and makes a fuss so we can see our better selves."

"While the East Wind listens close for the ghosts of last year's sadness, and He gives them back to the land. So it can start again."

"So it can start again," Vincent echoed.

Mina repeated the final line for herself, "So it can start again."

Then she let out a long breath, like she knew each of her brothers was doing, pretending to be the wind.

Mina listened as her brothers scrambled into the kitchen, greeted their mother, and began breakfast. Though Windy Season would last another three months, allowing the dirt, crops, and landscape to change all around them, the first day was special. And while Mina had longed for this moment, she was also afraid.

After breakfast and a reading from their grimoire, the family would gather the ashes of the dead. Last year, it was their dog, Sanders. The year before that, there had been no dead, only dried flower petals used as a substitute in order to say Thank You to the spirits for keeping them hale and fit. A different year, there was another dog, Mackenzie. Before that, a stray cat, a calf, and a fox that her father had accidentally killed. Then Mina's memory became fuzzy, like sand grains or snow squalls against a window.

This year it was her father in the clay vessel on their mantelpiece. It was he, Jordan Sullivan, who would be released into the wind the first day of Windy Season, so he could begin his long travel to the land of the dead with the help of the four cardinal directions.

Like all the deceased in their village, man or animal alike, Jordan had been cremated shortly after death. That had been six months ago, when a flu gripped his chest and not let go. The death midwife, a woman named Bea, delivered the ashes to them and stayed for a celebratory dinner, where they spoke about Jordan Sullivan's life. Though long ago now, Mina was still sure she could smell the venison, cooked potatoes and other root vegetables, and the flowery scent of the death midwife in the air. Mina had been silent during that dinner, only speaking a handful of words about her father--good man, I loved him--and her mother had been saddened.

"You are the oldest," she chastised once the death midwife was gone and the ashes of her father remained on the mantelpiece, waiting for Windy Season. "You need to set an example."

Mina had taken her lashings and apologized. But she'd also remained quiet, aloof, in the background, a shadow for the following six months.

No more. Now that Windy Season had truly begun, she believed she could sing her father into absolution, leading him to his first stop on the journey of the dead.

"Well," her mother said, once Mina had joined them at the table. "Look who finally showed up."

Mina ate in silence. Her brothers sang their song, and though it moved their mother to tears, she didn't ask them to stop. Once the dishes were cleaned, they gathered their Windy Season gear: goggles, bandanas, and long clothing though the heat of the day would grow. The wind whipped against the house, clattering the windows, and making the chimney scream out.

Mina grabbed her father's ashes. When her mother challenged her, she simply said, "Please."

"If you're sure, then." Her mother held the door open, her knuckles white against the fierce winds. "Hurry. We do not have much time."

The four of them assembled on their front lawn. Trees bent in all directions; all grasses were flattened; and beyond their hands, nothing was visible. Mina licked a finger to check directions, but it was soon caked with dust. Her bandana stood up straight, as if attacked from all sides. She didn't know what direction her father was to begin.

"Hurry!" her mother cried. "He cannot wait another year."

Mina surveyed the vast horizon. There was no sense of direction, no opening her father could ride to his final resting place. Nothing to see or hold onto.

Vincent began to sing. Samuel followed. Their voices warbled, but not with sadness. Their words were plucked by the wind, steering the directions according to the song. When her mother joined in, the directions grew stronger. Mina sang too, the wind following all their voices in tune.

At the final verse, Mina opened her father's ashes. They exploded like sparks on a lit fuse, like fireworks from another time period, distant and foreign. The wind took the ashes and held a body in place. A man, a shadow. Perfect.

Then he was gone.

Her family cried, tears mixing with dirt and making mud on their cheeks. They sobbed for their lost father, their husband, a man named Jordan Sullivan, who was now part of the earth, ready to fly towards his rightful place in the land of the dead.

"So it can start again," Mina said.

"So it can start again," the wind echoed back.

Eve Morton is a writer living in Ontario, Canada. She teaches university and college classes on media studies, academic writing, and genre literature, among other topics. Her poetry book, Karma Machine, was released in late 2020. Find more info on

Cover: Amanda Bergloff

Twitter @AmandaBergloff

Instagram: amandabergloff