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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Marietta was a happy little girl when she had lived at home For the first six years, until she was stolen by a lonely crone. The old woman’s food was strange at first, drinks all had foam. But she had been here eighteen years now, and she could condone. The witch was unhappy with her, for even the lilies left her alone. The snakes she had surrounded her with protected her from harm. She had tried every poison on her, but Marietta was shielded by tone. There was such a magical way around her, she was tough to alarm. Who is the witch here? The old lady’s ancestors asked with disgust. They swirled around her in her dreams, causing quite a little dust. I could not have chosen a more perfect child, she told them sadly. The girl heard, and acted straight up maniacal, untied rather gladly. Go back to your people, the old crone said in a mean kind of way. Marietta ran home to the yard where she often used to play. Her parents had moved on, but her sister was still there. She screamed her joy loudly as she ran through the air. Her sister came out on her deck to see what was going on. Marietta was losing her crown and the clothes were now gone. Come sister! Her sister screamed, happy for the first time in ages. Tell me where you have been, were you stolen by sages? Marietta spoke to her parents on the phone the very same day. They were in Orlando, Florida, only two states away. Let’s go to them, her sister immediately suggested. They drove through the night, both feeling happy and rested,.
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