Fairy Tales: Unraveled: A twisted retell shorts collection Page 10

  We all lived like this for years. As my sisters and I grew to be teenagers, the jealousy really became apparent. I had been blessed with my mother’s good looks—thick chestnut hair and green eyes that were slightly cat-like in appearance. Looking at the other two, it made me wonder if their father was even human. They were very hairy and had large noses and piggy eyes that seemed to get lost under thick brows and permanent scowls. Yet their mother, as all mothers should, told them how beautiful they were and bought them the best clothes and shoes money could buy. I also got new (to me) clothes and shoes. Usually cast-offs that were far too big for me. I was glad to be quite skilled with a needle and thread and soon learned how to fashion my own clothes from the sack-like garments gifted to me.

  All sounds like a regular blended family, right? Wrong. These people hated me. I was too much like my mother, and Kira hated to be reminded of her. Dad just let her have her way, and as time went on, he grew sick and never seemed to get any better. I resented him then, and I guess I still do to some degree today. He died of a massive heart attack on Christmas day, face first in his goose and gravy. Kira didn’t look too surprised; I bet she had been poisoning him for months. There was a small funeral for Dad, and like my mother before him, all memory of his existence was erased from the house and throw out at the earliest opportunity.

  Being seventeen and on the streets was not the easiest way to live. Oh yeah, along with my Dad’s stuff I was ousted as well. I was pretty, which meant it was easy to make money, but I didn’t want to make it that way. My father may have been a spineless fool, but I was my mother’s daughter and had slightly more self-respect.

  I was lucky enough to get a space in a home as a maid and worked my backside off to please the family. They treated me better than the one who threw me on the street before Dad’s body was even cold. So, life seemed to be on the up.

  There was to be a huge event in the summer in the biggest nightclub in the city; some European royal was coming to the rebrand opening. The club had been there for years, but after spending an eye-watering amount of money on a total refit and advertising campaign, it was all set to be the place to go and be seen.

  A friend of mine who worked in the local sweet shop wanted us to go; I said I would think about it. I would have to save for an outfit and accessories. In the end, I just decided to pass on it; there were way more important things to save for than an outfit I’d maybe wear twice.

  But I got lucky; my employers were sending their daughters to the event and wanted me to chaperone them. I didn’t really want to; Mandy and Abi were real pains in the ass, but when they said they were paying not only for my ticket but giving me cash for an outfit, I agreed. You don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

  The night of the grand opening came, and I was all set to go dancing. I had zero interest in the prince/ duke, whoever it was. I just wanted a night out and to wear my new dress and heels. The giggle twins, Mandy and Abi, took forever to get ready. When they finally appeared, it was like 1985 had thrown up on them. There was no way I was hanging with that fashion nightmare all night.

  Once we arrived, I spotted Charlie waiting for us; I was a good friend and had given her a heads-up about the 80’s rejects I had to babysit. To give her credit, she didn’t die of laugher or roll her eyes. She complimented them, and we all headed for the doors.

  The queue was unbelievable, again lucky for us, Mandy and Abi’s dad was a big deal in accounting, and we all had VIP tickets. It was as we made our way to the big burly guy guarding the door, that I spotted Precious and Divine. Looking them up and down, I had a new love for the giggle twins and their love for “vintage” club wear. My ex-stepsisters looked like men in really bad drag. I love drag queens; they give the best makeup tips. I just know that if any caught sight of these two, they would be hanging up the sequins and fake lashes for good. It was tragic.

  Since I moved out, I had dyed my hair white blonde and got a tan. So, they didn’t even recognise me as I walked past in my aqua silk mini dress and “glass” shoes; the woman in the little boutique had told me they were made of lead crystal. They weighed a heck of a lot, but they were so pretty, and I really loved rocking the cinders look. The owner was pleased to sell them; they were a tiny size four, and she had been trying to shift them for months. It seemed that Lady Luck was really paying up.

  The club was already packed, and the music was loud. Charlie didn’t have VIP access, so she headed for the dance floor to show everyone how dancing should be done, and I went with the girls to the VIP area. That was where the royal dude and his friends and bodyguards would be hanging out. I really hoped for his sake that his royal highness was gay. This was not a safe place for a single guy with a ton of money. Every girl within a hundred-mile radius was trying to get into the club tonight. As the night went on, I was beginning to regret the shoes. Charlie had hooked up with some guy and left, and the giggle twins were more like evil stepsisters now. I needed more of those like I need a hole in the head. They were tired and hot, and they were really pissed that they hadn’t even seen the prince/duke/royal dude, whatever. (I found out about an hour later that he was the crown prince of some island in the Mediterranean that I’d never heard of.) I was ready to call it a night.

  We handed back our passes, collected our jackets, and headed for the doors. The queue was still huge. I saw Divine and Precious a little way ahead of it. It looked like they hadn’t even made it inside. Karma!

  We hailed a taxi and got in; we lived on the other side of the city in the fancy part of the suburbs, so we sat back and tried to enjoy the ride. We had only managed to travel three streets when our taxi was hailed to stop. The girls were sleeping, so I asked the driver what was happening. He gave me the “search me” look and hit the brakes.

  A man of about thirty appeared at my door; he saw the girls in the back with me and cursed. I just thought he was some weirdo. He then went to the driver’s door and wrenched it open.

  “In the name of King—something I couldn’t pronounce had my life depended on it—I demand you hand over your car.” The driver, bless him, tried to explain that he had a fare and there was no way he was handing over his cab to anyone, no matter whose king’s name was brought into it.

  This didn’t appear to go over well with the man who started yelling in a foreign language and waving his arms about like he was trying to take off. In the end, another man approached the car; this one looked way too serious for my liking. He took the driver to the side and slipped him what looked like a grand in cash. Next thing I know, the driver was walking away with the suited dude, and I am sitting in the back of a cab. The child locks are on so I can’t get out, and there is a crazy foreign dude climbing into the driver’s seat. He didn’t even look back at us; he just closed the door and hit the gas.

  I wasn’t having this. I had signed up to babysit and have a paid night out on the town in a pretty dress and killer heels. Not to be abducted by some loony who didn’t seem to get which side of the road he was meant to drive on. I slid the Perspex privacy panel to the side and basically yelled at the guy for a good five minutes. I wanted to know what his problem was and if he wouldn’t mind at least letting us out of the car, so we didn’t have to be the sideshow to his mental break. Plus, I really needed to get the girls home; their parents would kill me if they weren’t home soon.

  No reply. Epic. I was stuck with a rude, slightly deranged kidnapper. I needed to call the police; this guy was clearly a danger, and I was not prepared to be a statistic on some crime board. Tonight’s freak show was over. I reached for my cell phone and dialled the emergency services.

  The second that loony tune heard me say police, the car swerved, and we were heading down a lane I had never noticed in all my time in the city. I then had no idea where the hell we were, and the cell signal was breaking up. I just hoped the fact that I was in a cab and had been on the line for a couple of minutes was long enough for them to trace the call. I really would like to be found before the boys in blue d
iscovered us all chopped up into little pieces and placed in nappy bags along some god-awful B-road in middle England.

  The car suddenly stopped, and the criminal in the front seat got out. He paced in front of the stolen car, the head lights glinting off of something on his chest. It looked like medals? I couldn’t really tell; it was half hidden by his overcoat. Then it clicked.

  Oh man, this couldn’t be happening.

  If he was who I thought he was, this was way too much. I put all the pieces of recent events together. The accents, the driving, the mention of a king, and now the medals. I was so glad that the girls were still out for the count. I shuddered at the thought of what might have happened if they were awake and aware that they had been essentially kidnapped by the guy they had wanted to meet oh so badly.

  He came to the back of the car and opened the door. He looked at the two sleeping sisters beside me and then ordered me out of the car. I got out, figuring I was better able to defend myself and them in the open than in the tiny back seat. He was taller than me by at least a foot and a good hundred pounds heavier. Chocolate brown eyes and thick wavy hair that sat on his collar. He was all brooding and dark. He was quite good looking if you like that sort of thing. He came at me, no warning, no hello, just crazy up in my face.

  Hell. No!

  I did not sign up for this crap. Dress, shoes, and a paid night off. That is all I agreed to, none of this manhandling by some over-entitled idiot in a dark lane at three in the bloody morning. I dodged him and moved away from the car; I needed to draw him away from the girls. He tried again, and this time I cracked him a good one across his face. My hand hurt like hell, but there was no way he was getting closer.

  He seemed to think differently; he tried again. Only this time I stumbled and fell back. The thick mud on the lane clung to my coat and legs, oh and hair. Damn, my shoes; they were covered in thick mud. That was a step too far. Never, and I mean never, mess with a girl’s shoes. He offered me his hand, which was weird as he was trying to attack me a second ago. I took it, and once back on my feet, I looked at him. There was something familiar about him; I just couldn’t place him.

  “You are Ella, yes?”

  I nodded but kept myself out of reach. I didn’t know this guy, and I really didn’t like him knowing my name. He was still a raving loony.

  “Who wants to know?”

  “ I am Prince Xander.”

  He even did a bow. I rolled my eyes; this still didn’t explain the abduction and the attack—oh and the fact that he was a loony.

  “Good for you, dude, but I have a question. What the freaking hell are you doing?”

  I was so angry and cold, and, well damn, my shoes looked terrible. He was trying to explain, when Mandy woke up and was suddenly all over the guy. They fell to the ground, and her excited screaming woke Abi. I face palmed. This was just getting worse. I was so quitting my job in the morning.

  They were like animals, tearing at his clothes and clawing his skin. When Mandy produced a knife and Abi a small jar, things suddenly took a nasty turn. I tried to get them to talk to me, but they were having none of it. They wanted a piece of him to keep.

  Because that’s not at all creepy!

  He was pinned; the knife was getting closer to his chest, and there was no way I was going to let them mutilate him. Sure, he had pulled some dick moves tonight, but to be filleted for it seemed a bit much. I tried to pull Abi off, but Mandy whipped around and sliced my leg with the knife.

  Now I was really mad.

  They were out of control, and I had no doubt they were willing to kill the guy just for some hair or a few drops of blood. I swear I will never understand teenage girls, and I was one!

  I took off my left shoe and held it by the front with the heel exposed. I only intended to get her to drop the knife. However, Mandy turned and saw me poised and ready to disarm her, and she came at me. In that moment it was her or me, and frankly, I like me more. I hit her hard. The weight of the shoe caught the bridge of her nose; I heard the crack of splintering bone, but she still kept coming. I slipped in the mud, and suddenly she was on me, and my shoe was between us. I felt her blade puncture the flesh of my shoulder. I cried out in pain and gathered all my strength to free my arms and get her off me.

  Everything became very still then; Mandy was no longer a wild cat on top of me. I blinked away the tears so I could see what was happening, maybe the cops had shown up at last?

  What I saw I will never forget. In my desperation to free myself, I had forgotten about the shoe. The heel of my glass slipper was imbedded in her right eye socket. All the way to the hilt. Mandy was dead. Forever frozen in that shocked moment when her world ended.

  It wasn’t long after that, that the police finally showed up. The prince explained the whole thing, and I was taken away for questioning. Abi was found to have high levels of cocaine in her system, and I was pretty sure that Mandy’s autopsy report would show the same thing. I felt guilty then, how had they got a hold of the drugs? I guess I’ll never know. I am totally fired, probably with a restring order too.

  I was finally released, after a lot of questioning, and no charges were ever brought against me as it was deemed to be self-defence. Outside the station I was greeted by Xander.

  “Before you open your mouth, I need a shower, clean clothes, a coffee, and my shoe back.”

  Xander held up an evidence bag containing my shoe. “They no longer need it; it’s been tested.”

  I take the bag and heave at the sight of the mud, blood, and brain matter still attached to my beautiful shoe. I was not going to enjoy cleaning that up.

  “Great, now first things first, I have to clean Mandy off my shoe.”

  Holding the bag at arm’s length, I look at Xander who is just smiling and totally calm. Maybe accidental death by shoe is normal where he comes from.

  “You know, I didn’t even want to meet you, I only went because I got a free night out and a great pair of shoes.”

  THE CURSE

  BASED ON RAPUNZELL

  There was no way around the truth; everyone was bound to find out. Which is why they had to hide her. Nothing hurts more than losing a child; the pain is beyond measure, far beyond the reaches of the darkest imagination. A mother that loves her child is a powerful thing, a natural thing. But what does that mother do when her beautiful child is possessed?

  The day Martha came to take their baby girl away was the worst day. The day Amanda swallowed the bittersweet pill of loss and relief. The loss of her only daughter, the only child she would ever bear, and yet it sickened her for more than just the physical loss. Her burden had been lifted, an issue removed, and trouble gone. She hated herself for these thoughts and feelings. She loved her child more than life itself, but she knew she could never have her back. No matter the love she had for her beautiful baby; the child had to go.

  Martha knew what she was getting into; being a witch, she was used to aiding those who needed her gifts. This case, however, was the most extreme she had ever been asked to assist with. The church had told the child’s parents to pray for the girl’s deliverance, to anoint her with oil and say blessings over her. The local priest attended the home of the family on a regular basis; even with the divine on his side the baby girl still remained “possessed.”

  Martha knew the child was different. She had a pure soul, but it was the other part of her that seemed to cause all the issues. As a child, Rachael, was a delight; she grew into a beautiful and adventurous child with the most gorgeous blonde hair. It resembled spun gold and platinum. The otherness that hung about her wasn’t fully revealed to the witch until the child was five years old.

  Martha and Rachael lived on a farm a mile from anyone, and the wards that the witch had erected meant that the ramblers or random visitors would never find the house. They just arrived on the other side of the property boundary, none the wiser for the magical detour. Which was just as well, because what Martha witnessed a week after the child’s fifth birthday shocke
d her.

  Rachael was playing in the garden; she was a loving child and of late, had shown a real interest in the wildlife that lived in the thicket of trees just to the left of their home. Martha always wondered why the animals stayed away from the little girl. She was quiet and slow in her movements, always used her most gentle voice and yet, the animals would flee from her. It broke Martha’s heart to watch her child—as that was how she saw her—cry into her perfect tiny hands at the lack of the contact she so craved with the creatures who shared the land with her.

  The day that changed everything will stay with the witch forever. It explained so much, but tore a ragged hole in their perfect family life. It became no longer just about hiding her away from those who may see a resemblance to her birth parents. Now it was about the darkness inside her. For that was the secret within the secret. Martha had tried to glamour the girl so she could be closer to her mother and make friends. It just wasn’t possible, the spell just wouldn’t stick.

  It was a sunny morning, and a fawn had entered the garden where Rachael had been playing with her animals. She loved her toy animals the best, as they never ran from her when she wanted to touch them and study their little glass eyes. On that morning however, the true nature of her otherness was revealed. That tea party with her stuffed animals in the sunshine changed their lives forever.

  Rachael’s beautiful mane of golden tresses had always grown very fast and very thick. That day it was tied in a simple ponytail that rested along her little spine, the very tips brushing the clover beneath her. The golden strands were catching the sun, and her head seemed to glow with radiant light. The fawn came closer to the child; maybe it was the smell of the berries Racheal had put in her little sugar bowl for the tea, that had attracted the creature. Sugar was bad for your teeth she had told Martha when she had offered some lumps of it from the pantry.