I have a good friend who’s locally famous (internationally, if you count the blog) for his fairy doors.
And I have a five-year old obsessed with the macabre and roadkill and skeletons, especially around Halloween.
So when I try to get my five-year old to change her ways by showing her pictures of my friend’s sweet and mysterious fairy doors, what do I get?
Of course: the Fairy Graveyard.
The red splotches, I’m told, are blood. (Did I mention she’s five?)
