In an ordinary street, in an ordinary suburb, in an ordinary town, something is amiss. 

It’s not the maths exam the teens are about to fail, or the overdue essay. It’s not global warming or fast-fashion sweatshops. It’s a low buzz of anxiety, a quiet terror in the middle of the night. Because girls are going missing. 

The adults aren’t taking any chances. All young women must register with authorities. They must wear a tracking device. They must watch what they say in case their words put them in danger. They will be controlled, and they will be safe. 

Morgan Rose’s little girls alone in the woods is a whip-smart adaptation of The Bacchae, putting a contemporary feminist lens on the Greek legend of Dionysus, the god of wine, fertility, festivity, theatre and ritual madness. It dares us to go into the woods and seek out what knowledge lies beyond the border of respectability and rules. What worlds await us?