Every fairytale fabricator has a distinct approach to the construction of their enchanting narratives, a unique palette they paint their stories with. Some authors indulge in cheerful narratives, opulent with honey-hued sunsets and happily-ever-afters. The others dwell upon the shadows, the thorny paths, and the bewitching moonlight. Even amidst this latter category, Mary De Morgan surpasses the orthodoxies of melancholy, earning her the honorific title of the "Grim Fairy Godmother." De Morgan, in her profound wisdom, seemed to know something the rest of us have yet to fully comprehend – that life is not a perpetuating parity of joy, but rather a sustained symphony of sorrows adorned with subtle sequences of gleeful intermissions. Her tales, traced by the quill of melancholy, bear the emblem of despair, replacing the habitual glitter of gold with the quiet glitter of reflection. Hailed as the harbinger of an unorthodox approach to fairy tales, she molds her tales to mimic the brutal realities of life. She does not promise ‘forever happy,’ but ‘forever wise.’ Children bitten by the bitter sting of her stories, we imagine, grew into adults under no illusions of grandeur; instead, they were equipped with a pragmatism that acknowledged both the beauty and the ugliness of existence. Her three volumes of fairytales - "On a Pincushion," "The Necklace of Princess Fiorimonde," and "The Windfairies" - have upon repeated occasions, left readers grappling with lingering gloom. A pearl of her disheartenment, Princess Fiorimonde is a far cry from the jubilant figure of conventional princess stories. Not only does she leave the reader craving a happy ending, but she also offers a fresh perspective of power and corrosive malevolence. The unspoken tragedy of her works is its remarkable dearth of identification within the menagerie of English literature. De Morgan stands as an owner of tales akin to that of Hans Christian Andersen, intensifying the enrichment of the genre despite largely living in the shadows of mainstream acknowledgement. Her narrative was not softened for the fainthearted but instead, it laid out a bleak and bracing mirror of the world, thereby preparing her readers for the starkness of living. Perhaps De Morgan's most resounding echo is her penchant for embedding political commentary within her grim tales, underscoring a necessary subversion that balances revelation and subtlety. These hidden daggers of satire pointed at the injustices and flaws of society, making her fairy tales a revolutionary tool to awaken an entire generation. In this way, she becomes more than an author - she transforms into an educator cloaked under the guise of a fairytale spinner. It is indeed a shame that De Morgan's works, seen more as inklings of an impending blizzard than an enlightening rainstorm, continue to sit on lesser-traveled roads of literature. The tale of Mary De Morgan, the Grim Fairy Godmother herself, is subjected, with a cruel irony, to a lack of a ‘happy ending.’ Remarkably, however, her wisdom continues to seep through her sad tales, illuminating readers who dare to dwell on her poignant pages. Her tales, brimming with implications and echoing wisdom, take her readers beyond mere storytelling. The downcast tales of wisdom that De Morgan leaves behind are indeed gory grim, but beneath the frivolity, they carry humanity's hardest lessons.