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July 3, 2010
Once upon a time, a little girl lived in a rice field town of southern Arkansas. All summer long she swatted at clouds of mosquitoes and scratched at the bites on her dirty, sun-browned legs. Her knees were always scratched and bruised from climbing and falling from trees, and her hair was always tangled. 

She was convinced, as many little girls are, that fairies and dragons existed, if only one knew where to look. Her closet door was always left open, in case a fairy slipped in and couldn't get out again.

She was so naive.