My mother poisoned apples. My father hid his heart inside a tree. It was a family thing, dealing death and dodging it.
I don’t have time for subtlety. I tried being quiet; I pretended to sleep. I tossed a twig and grew a prickly thicket ‘round my house. You cut it down.
I call lightning into my palm. Dare you to open that door.
Christine Hanolsy 
I really like how this one uses popular allusions to very quickly turn an old story new.
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You definitely need to write a longer story about this princess. I love how much background you could pack in this tiny piece.
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