Short Story Competition 3 (Cinderella) - VOTE HERE!

The Silver Wolf

The full moon’s blue glow blanketed the dark tree tops of Grey Wolf Forest and cast shadows that unsettled Adimar Boons once again. The hairs stood up on the back of his neck as he noticed the horses too shifted uneasily. He was on edge. His shoulders felt stiff from the day’s labour but securing the horses was his final task and he could soon rest. His mind however worked over and over on the pending Midsummer hunt. Only the sons of woodcutters were permitted to hunt the silver wolf and Adimar had finally come of age. The prize was a seat at the banquet table of King Vladamir and Queen Cinderella and 1,000 gold krore. It was a splendid prize indeed however Adimar cherished only the restoration of his father’s name and for that he would have to catch the silver wolf.

Adimar’s nose filled with the stench of ale when he opened the cabin door. His father Petrov Boons, swayed over the hearth forcefully stoking the smouldering cinders with his good hand. He heard the creak of the heavy cabin door closing, reached awkwardly for the empty bottle and growled through barely parted teeth...
“How much?”
“60 krore father”
“Why, you good for nothing weasel, how many loads?”
“6 father, 10 krore for a load at Mirdir Market”
“You’re worse than useless, why in my day I’d…”
Adimar stole across the dusty wood floor grabbing some bread from the table before darting towards his room.
“I suppose you feel you can just walk in here and…” The bottle swung violently but Adimar reacted quickly to guard against the blow by catching the bottle before it met the stone wall. He pressed his thumb hard above his left eyebrow touching the scar that reminded him of a time when he was not so deft of movement.
“A hundred krore tomorrow or no hunt!”
Petrov threatened as he picked up his hunting knife and slammed the cabin door behind him.

Each night leading up to Midsummer Petrov Boons would drink ale until he could barely stand up and then stumble outside the cabin for a battle with the silver wolf. He maintained that it was once her fangs that sunk into the bones of his right hand and deprived him of his livelihood as a woodcutter and more significantly, as a hunter. He shivered with rage in the chill of the night and from the top of his lungs dared the glowing sets of eyes amongst the trees to step forward. They never obliged. Petrov would inevitably give up and fall asleep outside with the horses.

A generation ago, Petrov Boons had come closest of all to capturing the silver wolf. It was known by the village to be enchanted by the white witch Anastasia, an outcast of the royal family and was considered responsible for the tragic death of the King’s niece. Her body was never recovered from the forest and Lady Drizella, unable to cope with the loss of her only girl, took her own life in the royal stables on Midsummer’s Eve. Each year the King ordered a hunt of Grey Wolf Forest before the festivities of Midsummer could begin. The bounty on the silver wolf had since risen to 1,000 gold krore. Petrov was highly respected and knew the forest better than any other hunter for that is where he spent his winters, always tracking her. He fought the silver wolf armed only with a knife. It sunk its long sharp teeth into his hand and he slashed his knife across the creature’s neck. It howled with pain and retreated into the thick of the trees. Petrov arrived back at the village, bleeding and expecting to collect his prize only to be banished in fury by the King to the forest, never to return. He failed to obey the King’s order of capture and shamed the Boons family name. The King extended the bounty to the first hunter to recover the body of the silver wolf. Neither his Majesty nor the Queen returned to the Midsummer festivities after that.

Occasionally when Adimar delivered his cart of wood to Mirdir Market he heard tales of hunters that tried to present the oldest and whitest of grey wolves to the King only to be punished for deceit. He greatly admired his father but sadly the knowledge and skills bestowed upon him as a child had long since been replaced by ale, anger and resentment. He let out a long deep sigh as he heard Petrov stumble into the stable. The horses didn’t enjoy the company or the snoring much. He was sure that tomorrow his father would be proud of his champion woodcutter son. He had been sure since the spring that the silver wolf existed for it was then that he met the girl with the silk brown hair and dusty eyes. They shared no names but connected instantly and it was she who instilled that belief in him. Her vivid tales from the depth of East Forest absorbed him. They met frequently on his path from Mirdir Market and love blossomed.

She was forbidden to leave the forest by her merciless aunt and as soon as Adimar had settled to the soothing warmth of her presence, she would bid farewell and run east towards Snaretree. This was the thickest and most dangerous part of the forest. Petrov had forbidden Adimar long ago never to venture beyond mid forest for wizards were likely to ensnare him. On every occasion that he chased her was left stunned that she seemed to know the forest better and lost him. It added to the alluring mystery of her, like her encounters with the silver wolf, her dusk curfew and the long scar on her neck which she was careful to hide. Adimar would feel every hair on his body tingle when he sensed movement within earshot of Snaretree. He often caught sight of a pair of eyes searing through the darkness of the trees. They would bore into his mind’s eye like hot blades.

Tonight had been different. They had eaten berries and laughed heartily until he spoke of his coming of age. She seemed to drop her gaze and turn her head at the mention of the hunt. The silver wolf was somehow special to Snaretree folk. Adimar assured her of his intention to capture and restore his father’s name, not to harm. In return she offered a weak smile and took his hand, pressing it to her chest. Her soft porcelain skin was warm and her heart beat quickly.

Adimar didn’t want her to go and as she turned to leave him her long brown hair brushed his cheek like a silk scarf free in the wind. He raised his hand to stroke it but in an instant she was running east. Adimar looked up just as she turned her head to stare straight back at him. He froze. Her dusty eyes transformed to reflect brilliantly the light of the full moon and lingered for the briefest moment before disappearing into darkness. In the blink of an eye Adimar knew who she was. His destiny on Midsummer, now crystal clear, was not to hunt but to protect her from hunters. He had to succeed. To rescue the silver wolf was the only way he could save his love and restore the Boons family name at his Majesty’s court. Unsettled, Adimar gathered the horses and his empty cart and returned to the cabin. It was late and he knew Petrov was waiting...

“I love her dearly,” he said and smiled for the first time in a long time. “I love her Ella.”


“Then so shall I,” his daughter dutifully replied, forcing a smile and swallowing a cry. They embraced tightly, yet something lay between them, a darkness and sadness too acute to confront.


So the bells tolled and confetti tumbled and the new bride flashed her bright white teeth at a thousand onlookers. She reserved a special grin for Ella; her eyes were ice. Ella's smile froze, cheeks hurt, but she held it, and blew a kiss to her father as the couple set off.


The crowd cheered and strode to the bar. Two women lingered, fingers pointed, heads nodding and bobbing, eyes narrowing. Strangers, now step-sisters. Ella nodded back. The two departed, laughing out loud.


Mr Prince was here, shaking hands with the queue of women waiting to meet and greet and whatever him. Ella wanted to laothe him, but loathed herself for wanting him. Tall, handsome, wealthy, but also very kind;a good friend of her father's, and way out of her league.


She dropped her gaze, dragged deep on a cigarette. To the butt, then lit another.


One of the step-sisters approached gingerly, holding her dress like it might blow away. “Excuse me, you're Ella?”


Ella held a hand out and coughed on a puff of smoke. Doubled over, ash and embers popping and stirring from her cigarette, splashing across her newly-bought dress. The cigarette tumbled away. The step-sister doubled over too—laughing, pointing. Sister number two joined her from who knows where. Elle stifled a groan, straightened up, and went to the bathroom.


Mirrors surrounded her. Everywhere Ella, ash-stained and sad. She wiped the tears and said, “Be a big girl.” She scrubbed at the stains and only smeared them, and now she was tearful. Over the sobs she heard a creak—the two sisters.


“Aww,” said one. “Covered in cinders.”


“Cinder Ella,” said the other. They jeered and left.


Elle looked into the mirror, into her dark-ringed eyes. A fce popped out from over her shoulder. She yelped.


“Relaaaax,” said the arrival, her face beaming with light. “I'm your pal, your buddy, your Fairy-uking Godmother. And you look like you need a treat.” She raised a hand to Ella's mouth and Ella didn't think twice—nor once—she swallowed them and muttered “Thank you” and went to the bar.


Minutes passed. Vodka bulls were really kicking in. Afternoon light suddenly seemed so damn beautiful. And when she looked at her dress she realised it wasn't stained—it was mottled, like the shadows cast by clouds across grassy fields in summer. Patterns flowed across her surface, and she glowed, and she smiled.


Music flowed smooth, and she followed its beat. Others looked upon her in awe. She was the princess.


“Where is my prince?”


She found him smoking in the corner, his eyes fixed upon something far-off. She stood by, and reached for his hand. He jumped, and laughed, and leaned in to kiss, then said, “Are you OK?” and other things like “Get this girl some water!” Then darkness came.


She awoke to starlight and cool air touching her cheeks. Prince was there, holding her hand, and she felt like hell had creeped into her bowels and released demons into her face. The sisters were around her apologising profusely, “We didn't mean it” “Oh don't die”.


Lights flared up from the corner: red and blue. “About time!” roared Prince, letting her go, and soon she was floating.


“My chariot has arrived,” she whispered with a ghostly smile, and closed her eyes.

The Saga of India De Souza: Part 2 – Diego’s Tale

When we last met India De Souza (also known as Cinderella), she was supposedly living happily ever after, with Prince Lorenzo Von Baronsmith, in the Kingdom of Baleshire... Meanwhile her evil (but beautiful) stepsisters, Portia and Persephone De Ravin, were sentenced to spend a lifetime in the castle’s dungeons for subjecting India to a life of slavery and hardship...
This story, takes place almost two years after those events came to pass...

Diego Valette had left Baleshire over a decade ago, but when he left there at the age of fourteen to learn his trade as a Blacksmith, he had always known that one day he would return to proclaim his love for his childhood friend, India De Souza. Diego had been aware from a young age, that he and India were meant to be together, but he had never had the courage as a boy to convey to her how he felt, but now he knew that he could easily tell India how much he had always loved her...

On his return, Diego headed straight for the house where India had grown up, only to find that there was no one home, and by the looks of things no one had been living there in well over a year. Diego then decided to the home of Cassandra De Souza, India’s Aunt and Godmother. If anyone knew where he could find India, Cassandra would...

Cassandra did indeed know of India’s whereabouts, but unfortunately Diego had not anticipated that India may have fallen in love with another, let alone the Prince of Baleshire. Cassandra filled Diego in on the entire story of how India came to be the lover of Prince Lorenzo – of how Portia and Persephone had subjected their stepsister to a lifetime of hardship, how Cassandra herself had aided India in making it to Lorenzo’s masquerade ball, and of how Lorenzo had managed to find India using only a slipper. Even Diego had to admit it sounded like something in a fairytale, but nothing would stop him from letting India know how he felt for her – regardless of her response. With that Diego bid farewell to Cassandra and made his way to the castle...

On arrival to the castle, Diego was granted an audience with India, but only under the supervision of Prince Lorenzo, whose jealousy was his worst trait – he didn’t even like other men seeing India, let alone speaking to her. Despite Lorenzo’s presence, Diego told India that he had come back only for her, because he had always and will always love her. Lorenzo did not even give India the chance to respond to what Diego was saying – he was furious that anyone had such nerve as to pursue the woman he had claimed as his own. Within seconds Lorenzo had the guards arrest Diego and gave the order to have him thrown in the dungeons until arrangements could be made to have him executed...

Portia, the less evil of India’s stepsisters, recognised Diego as soon as he was thrown into the cell next to the one she shared with her sister.
“Diego?” she asked.
“Portia? Persephone? I had heard the two of you were down here,” he replied.
“What are you doing down here?” Portia continued.
“I proclaimed my undying love to your sister. Needless to say, the Prince was not impressed. I am to be sentenced to death,” he replied in turn.
“You proclaimed your love to Cinderella?” Persephone asked, clearly shocked that yet another man had fallen under her stepsister’s spell.
“Don’t call her that,” Diego warned, “Her name is India, and if either of you ever intend to leave this dungeon, you should show some remorse, not continue to call her horrible names.”
“Diego is right Persephone. I’ve told you many times before that we have wronged India and your continued negative attitude towards her is of no help to us.”
“Perhaps you should listen to her, Persephone,” India suggested as she entered the dungeons.
“India? What are you doing down here?” Diego asked.
“I’ve convinced Lorenzo that his reaction to your proclamation was uncalled for and on my wishes he has agreed to let you go free, on the condition that you will never return to Baleshire, ever again. I assume you agree to these terms?”
“I’d rather die than leave Baleshire without you India.”
“Don’t be foolish Diego. I’m with Lorenzo now. I’m sorry that I can’t give you the answer that you want, but I love Lorenzo. It was nice to see you again, but I strongly suggest you accept this offer and leave before Lorenzo changes his mind.”
“Are you saying you don’t love me, India?”
“I will always love you as a friend Diego and if you had returned under different circumstances I imagine your feelings would be reciprocated. Now please leave. If you truly love me, you will do as I ask. Guard, open his cell and escort him from the castle,” India instructed as she turned to leave.
“India wait,” Portia pleaded, “Please, give Persephone and I the same option. We’ll leave Baleshire and you’ll never see us again.”
India considered this for a moment and then replied, “As you wish. Guard, escort my sisters from the castle as well. If any of you ever step foot in Baleshire again, Lorenzo will surely have you all executed.”

With that India left the dungeon, and Diego, Portia and Persephone were escorted from the castle and the three began leaving Baleshire as instructed.
“You’re not going to give up, are you Diego?” Portia asked.
“What? Why do you care?” Diego replied.
“I’ve done some rotten things in my past, but after two years in that cell, I regret everything I’ve done to India and I’d like to see her happy again, and I know that she isn’t happy with Lorenzo. You have to fight for her Diego. I know she truly loves you.”
“You’ll help me?” Diego asked.
“If that’s what you want, I will do everything I can. Persephone? Will you help us?”
“Portia, if you’re crazy enough to risk death to help that piece of dirt Cinderella, do as you please, but I’m leaving Baleshire with my head intact,” Persephone replied.

Persephone then bid farewell to Portia and Diego and left Baleshire not knowing whether she’d see her sister again. Portia and Diego headed to a small cottage just outside Baleshire, where Portia’s grandmother had lived prior to her death and which had remained abandoned since. They decided it would be best to remain in this cottage until they had decided what plan would work best to convince India that Diego was the one she is meant to be with...

To Be Continued...

Kate closed the lid of her laptop as Brian walked into the coffee shop. She locked her fingers, stretched her arms forward, and relished the sound of her knuckles cracking. Two hours non-stop typing. The floodgates had finally opened. She stood and turned.

Brian looked around with a smile.

"Jesus, how did you find this place?"
"Good to see you too, Bri."

They hugged, and sat opposite each other at the table by the window. It was 2pm in the afternoon, and this quiet little coffee shop was an oasis of calm amid the bustle outside.

"No, seriously, how did you find this place? I thought you were a low fat mocha-frappa-latte-‘mericano with whipped cream and cherry-on-top kind of girl. I doubt this place even knows what a cappuccino is."
"This place serves the best coffee in Galway. You’ll see."

Kate raised her hand and signalled to the girl behind the counter. The girl approached the table and produced a notebook from god knows where. "What'll it be, folks?"

"My friend Brian here is a fan of really good coffee."
"Some really good coffee coming up, so. Same again for yourself?"
"Sounds good."

The notebook vanished. The order wasn’t complicated enough to warrant recording, and the girl left to get the coffee.

"I saw from the street that you were writing again. Does this mean your writer's block is -"
"- unblocked!"
"That's great! I still don't get it, though. What's it got to do with this place?"
"This place is my inspiration.
"Nope... you've lost me."
"It's all about..."

The girl returned with 2 coffees and placed them on the table.

"Thanks, Cindy".
"You're welcome", said Cindy, who left to deal with another customer.

"... all about?"
"Cindy."
"The waitress?"
"Look at her."

Brian looked at Cindy. She was a pretty girl, with long straight blonde hair, wearing a simple blue dress. No adornments at all. No jewellery or makeup, not even a ring or a watch.

"So what's the plan?"
"Cinderella. A modern day take on it."
"Oh I get it. Cindyrella. If her last name is Rella, I’m leaving..."
"Funny."
"OK, what else?"
"What do you remember about the fairytale?

Brian pursed his lips, frowned, and looked at the wall over Kate’s left shoulder. A collection of paintings and photos hung haphazardly on the wall. A framed picture of Cindy caught his eye and he laughed out loud. Kate knew exactly what he was looking at and giggled. In the picture, Cindy was flanked by two fearsome women, at least twice her age. The woman on the left had a rectangular head, no lips, and she was grimacing. Her mouth was a straight line, as if drawn on the photo with a ruler and black pen. The woman on the right just looked insane. One eye was bigger than the other and the photo captured her mid-cackle. Her mouth was a patchwork of teeth and gaps. The two women towered over Cindy, who genuinely looked intimidated.

"If they’re Cindy’s sisters, then she was adopted."
"They’re actually her aunts. Let’s just say she gets her looks from her mother’s side."
"Dad must have had a killer personality. Either that or a really big....."
"Brian!"
"...Wallet."

Kate stifled a snigger.

"OK, so we have the ugly relatives. What else? Now need a prince. If we want a happily ever after, the prince has to find his Cinderella."
"I’ve got that covered too."

With a nod of her head, she gestured to a table against the far wall. At the table sat a tall handsome man in his twenties. He was wearing glasses, had a couple of days worth of stubble growth, and was talking – no, flirting with Cindy. She had her hands crossed in front of her – a classic defensive posture – but it looked like he was wearing her down. She was smiling and her cheeks were red. She definitely liked him.

"He comes in here every day at the same time, and every day, they talk for at least 15 minutes."
"But he’s just a random guy. She needs a prince."
"His name is Conor Prince."
"Oh thats too good."

Kate smiled.

"Thanks. Now for the final piece of the jigsaw.
"The ball – the dance."
"Exactly."
"Any ideas?" Brian noticed the twinkle in her eye. "Of course you do."

Kate opened her laptop, tapped on the keys for a couple of seconds, and spun the laptop around so Brian could see the screen. It was a website for a local concert venue. Brian read out loud:

"Glass Slipper Gala Ball" – Brian made eye contact with Kate for a second, then continued reading – "Treat your princess to the night of her life."

He skimmed the rest of it, reading fragments out loud – "Formal Dress ... Horse Drawn Carriages ... Live music by The Pumpkins and The Midnight Chimes."

Brian had read enough. He turned the laptop back to face Kate, and drained his coffee cup.

"So how do we get them past flirting, and to the next stage?"
"Well this is a modern day retelling of the story, so we can use technology."

Kate turned her attention back to the laptop. She typed and clicked for several moments.

"I can see from my laptop if anyone is using Bluetooth here, and there is one person with a device called Prince_Conor."
"Prince Conor. I like it."
"I can send him a message from here to nudge him in the right direction."

She tapped on the keys for another few seconds. With a flourish she hit the enter key and sat back with a smile. A moment later, Conor's phone beeped.

"What did you say?", Brian whispered.
"I sent him the link to the dance and told him she was single. They’ve been flirting for a month now. This is make or break time."

Brian looked at the screen. "Signed Fairy Godmother. Nice touch."

Brian and Kate smiled knowingly at each other and watched the drama unfold.

They couldn't hear a word, but they didn't need to. Conor approached Cindy and spoke to her for about half a minute. Cindy blushed. Conor showed her the message on the phone. Cindy nodded and smiled. Conor reached out and touched Cindy's face. He drew her close and kissed her gently. They hugged like long time lovers.

While embracing her new found prince, she looked towards Kate with a grin and mouthed the words "thank you". Kate raised a thumb in acknowledgment. Kate and Brian left the coffee shop on a high, confident that a brand new fairytale was taking shape in their wake.

Cinderella - A Fairy Fail

Cindy scrubbed the floor in a temper. She didn’t want to go to a stupid ball and this was her punishment? Just because she was the pretty one didn’t mean she had to get sold off to the stupidest prince in the history of the nation to be his broodmare. His fascination with having a blonde, blue eyed princess by his side was ridiculous. There were plenty of blondes around; she wanted no part of it. Of course her greedy father had other ideas as per usual. She huffed to herself, attacking non-existent stains with gusto.
Her step-sisters side stepped around her carefully, hitching up their gowns in an effort to avoid the suds on the floor.
“Sorry Cindy,” they chorused.
“Yeah, whatever. I asked you to do one thing. One thing. You couldn’t even do that right. How hard is it to hide a damn invitation?”
“We tried . . . . “
“I know, I know,” said Cindy, biting her lip. “It’s just . . . you don’t know how lucky you are. I’d give anything to look like either of you right now.” Her less than attractive step-sisters glanced at each other, unable to hide the relief they felt at being the ugly ones. They might feel sorry for Cindy but nothing could have persuaded them to switch places with her.
Her stepmother bustled the twins out of the room. “Don’t forget your father wants the stairs hovered too,” was her only farewell. Cindy watched her father leave, his face still twitching in anger. He had to explain to the prince why his only blonde haired daughter wasn’t at the ball.
“Well, tough,” muttered Cindy under her breath, standing up and heaving the bucket of dirty water to the sink. She sprayed some disinfectant in the air to make the place smell like it had been cleaned and half heartedly wiped down a counter or two. Taking a tub of chocolate ice cream from the fridge and grabbing a spoon on her way out of the kitchen, she relaxed on the sofa to watch her favourite chick flick. She hated those stupid balls. Pigging out in front of the TV was her idea of a fun evening.
She didn’t get half way through the film before she heard a tinkling noise. Startled, she twisted around to see a bespectacled old lady waving a wand behind her.
“Oh, no, not you!” Cindy jumped up and held her hands out pleadingly. “Come on, don’t do this.”
“It’s my job,” said the old woman, pushing her glasses upwards. She cleared her throat and spoke in a soft sing song voice. “I am your Fairy Godmother and you shall go to the ball.”
“I don’t bloody well want to go!”
The Fairy Godmother smirked. “Tough. My boss wants you there so you’re going. You know royalty, they like to do things the old fashioned way.” She waved her wand in Cindy’s direction. Poof – her comfortable tracksuit was gone and in its place a decidedly girly pink puffy ball gown.
“You have got to be kidding me.” Cindy stared down at the dress in undisguised horror.
A couple of wand swings later and Cindy found herself sitting in a smelly orange carriage. The white bony horses were bad enough but the foot soldier insisted on scratching himself so much that Cindy wanted to throw up. She fidgeted in her dress as her Fairy Godmother gave her a final warning.
“You’re going whether you like it or not so no trying to escape, okay? I’ll be watching you, Cinders.”
Cindy rolled her eyes. Fairy godmothers were so annoying. Almost as bad as brainless princes with lots of money, big egos and no common sense. She opened her mouth to make a smart remark but the horses pulled off suddenly, jerking her back into her seat. She struggled to sit back up and spent the entire journey trying to balance herself.
At the ball, her family were delighted to see her. If Cindy married the Prince, they would be left alone by the royal family. Plus, they would benefit from some of the dividends. It was worth the sacrifice. Cindy scowled in her father’s direction, trying not to cry at the smug look he gave her in return. The pitying looks from her step sisters were almost as bad. She fervently wished she could make herself look ugly. Next time there was a ball, she was dying her hair purple.
The prince was announced by a black haired servant. Much to her disgust, he tripped up the servant and mocked him by proclaiming him to be Quasimodo. Cindy was horrified by his mean streak. Plus, his floppy blonde hair irritated Cindy more than she could have imagined. He was an arrogant fool with issues. He wanted his wife to look perfect and bear him perfect little blonde haired children. Cindy thought his obsession with blonde hair was super creepy.
When he approached her for a dance, she squirmed inside but found herself compelled to step forward and into his arms.
“How’s my hair?” he asked her.
“Erm, fine.”
“Just fine?”
“I mean, it’s great. Very hot.”
“Of course it is,” he said with a confident smile.
He was even worse than she had previously thought. He had no original thoughts in his head and he was quite possibly the vainest man alive. As soon as the song ended, she hurried to the balcony for some air. The Prince’s hunchbacked servant was there too.
“Ah,” he smiled. “Need a rest already?”
“Something like that.”
“The Prince is delighted you came at last.”
“Sure he is, not like I had a choice in the end.”
“We all have choices, Cinderella. You could run away. You would be poor but at least you won’t be married to a half wit.”
She raised her eyebrows. She was beginning to like this guy. Even if he was a bit on the fugly side. “Or?”
“Or you could marry the Prince, become the wealthiest woman in the Kingdom and . . . humiliate his highness at every opportunity.”
Cindy grinned, suddenly seeing opportunities. “I could use a few bob alright.”
Much to her Fairy Godmother’s relief, Cindy decided against making a dramatic fleeing exit at midnight and instead stuck around and accepted the Prince’s offer of proposal.
They married and as the servant had told her, she became very wealthy.
Of course, even the dim witted Prince wondered how his less than pretty first born managed to have a full head of black hair.

No Escape

The baker’s eyes narrowed as he examined the stranger in the flickering candle-light. It was almost five o’clock, closing time, and this man would be the last customer of the day. He had an average build and height, but wore a hooded cloak which cast a shadow across his face. He also wore an eye-patch over his left eye, which made the baker nervous.

“Your change, sir.”

The baker slid three coins across the counter, his eyes still locked on the stranger.

The other man nodded, and took the loaf in one hand. With the other, he slid the coins into his pouch. “Thank you," he muttered, and left the counter without another word. The baker pursed his lips, and watched as the stranger walked back out, into the cold evening air.

Outside, the man buttoned his coat, and tucked the bread beneath his cloak. He walked in the shadows, avoiding the gaslights where possible, and increasing his stride where not. As he walked, he held his belt, and felt the weight of his money pouch. It had lost half its burden since he had set out three weeks ago. Since he had escaped.

Soon, the man left the glow of Main Street, and turned onto a side road, where suddenly, he came to a halt. A poster sketch of his homely face was pasted to the wall like a theatre playbill. Below it, in large, bold letters: WANTED.

Beneath that, larger still: REWARD.

The man cursed and wrapped his cloak tightly around his body. He pulled his scarf up to shield his face, and glanced back down the street. Thankfully, the area was deserted.

He turned from the wall and continued walking, his heart now thumping hard in his chest. On every corner, another of the damned posters advertised for his capture. Eventually, he stopped, and with a final tug at his scarf to check it was secure, he began to run.

When he reached the forest, the sun had disappeared from the sky and only a sliver of moonlight broke through the clouds above. The cottage sat in darkness, shielded by the trees, and made ugly by the black scorch marks covering its bricks. The man climbed across the burnt timber and through the broken frame which had once held the front door.

Once inside, he removed his eye-patch and looked down the hallway. Vandals had long-since stripped it of anything that they could sell, leaving only the stone walls intact. Even the straw roof was gone.

The man exhaled, and saw his breath fogging in the night air. He shivered involuntarily.

At the end of the hallway, one room was more intact than the others. He stood in its doorway, and examined the scene. The charred remains of a wardrobe lay on the floor, but here at least, the roof was intact. Still, something was out of place.

Had the blanket been moved?

He shook his head, but could not dismiss the thought. After a moment, he bit his lip and walked inside. He placed the bread, and a lump of cheese onto the stone fireplace and looked around. The room was empty, but it was no longer safe.

Even if nobody had come, he thought, the posters in town ensured that he would soon be recognised. He would leave at first light then, and hope that if he ran far enough, he could leave the posters behind.

With that thought, the man lay down and pulled the blanket over his shoulders. He closed his eyes, and soon fell into a troubled sleep.

Several hours later, he awoke with a start, and sat upright on the floor. The room was still dark, and his clothes felt cold and clammy against his skin. He held his breath and listened. Was it just the rustle of leaves? No.

“Who’s there?” he called.

The man rose, shivering, to his feet, and glanced around the room. It was empty, but still, he felt a presence, as if somebody was watching him.

“Show yourself!” he roared, his voice quivering as he took a knife from his belt. It was her. It had to be. His heart began pounding in his chest once more.

Suddenly, he heard a woman’s voice, close, laughing.

“My dear, you must know a knife would be useless against me.”

The man turned, and found himself staring at a squat figure, dressed in a lavender robe with an oversized purple ribbon clasp. He jumped back, waving the knife towards her.

“Ah-ah-ah!” the woman chided, and with a flick of her wrist, a thin silver wand appeared in her hand. He dropped the knife and turned towards the doorway, but as he did, a stream of starlight burst from the wand. It circled the fallen wardrobe, and threw it across his path.

He spun to face her once more.

“Please, no!”

The man’s back pressed hard against the wardrobe, his hands and fingers clasping against its rotten frame.

“Please! Don’t take me back!”

“Now, now. You’ve had your fun,” she said with a maternal scowl, “but it’s naughty to stay out when it’s time to come in.”

She crossed her arms resolutely and nodded, now standing less than a yard away. The man sank trembling to the ground, his eyes wide and filled with tears.

“No! You don't have to do this, please!”

The woman shook her head and smiled as she flicked her wand once more.

Starlight enveloped him, and as it did, the skin tightened across his face. A prickling sensation swept through his body, and he whimpered in pain. The woman said nothing, but watched as her spell began to take hold. He grew smaller and smaller, his skin harder and greener, and his eyes began to turn from light blue to dark gold.

The man writhed in agony until a final, pitiful word escaped his lips.

“Please.”

Within seconds, he had disappeared inside his clothes. He was soon smaller than a wriggling baby but still, the woman waited. Eventually, the movement stopped, and a lizard’s head peaked through the neck of his shirt.

She smiled, satisfied that she had completed her work, then turned away.

I really must be more careful with magic in future, the woman thought as she began to disappear. Two slippers and a footman failing to change back at midnight – what would the other Godmothers think?

Lovers' Songs

“Back when I was going out with Sean,” Nicole said, “our song was Lovers in Japan by Coldplay.”
“That’s a nice song.”
“Yeah. Considering we’d met in a pub in Temple Bar,” Nicole sighed. “Anyway, what about you two? What’s your song?”
Beatrix and Aaron looked at each other and smiled. Nicole missed that closeness with another person, where two people know each other so well they read expressions and body language like it was telepathic.
“You tell it,” Aaron said. “You’re better at it than I am.”
Beatrix sat back in her chair and began.


Beatrix three years younger was sitting at a desk in her room, alternatively typing and scowling at her laptop. Only a few more paragraphs left to write, except she couldn’t think of anything to write. She didn’t handle stress very well: it turned her into a bitch. At least she didn’t panic.
Her door burst open behind her.
“Are you ready?” her housemate Ciara demanded.
“Most people knock, you know.”
“Are you ready?” she asked again. Her excitement waned when she saw Beatrix’s irritated expression. “Ah, you promised me you’d come out tonight!”
“When did I promise that?”
“Last month.”
Beatrix shut her eyes and counted to ten.
“I do have my Master’s thesis due in at 5 tomorrow you know.”
“How much do you have left?”
“Just the conclusion and to double-check the references.”
“Great, I’ll help you with that. I can philosophise and bull**** with the best of them. Go out and have some fun Beatrix. Tomorrow you can finish your thesis, hand it in and enjoy your hangover in peace.”
Beatrix stretched her arms up. It actually sounded like a good idea. But...
“I don’t have anything to wear.”
“I’ll lend you that dress of mine that doesn’t fit me. C’mon, you’ve been stuck at that computer for the past two weeks. You need to go out and have some fun. I’ll doll you up, make you look sexy, baby!”
Beatrix stared back at her thesis in Word. A bright blue “Conclusion” hung over a blank white page.
“...What do you have in mind?” Beatrix asked.

“A silent disco?”
“Yeah, you’ll love it! They give you a pair of wireless headphones which are tuned in to different frequencies. So you’re listening and dancing to music that only you can hear.”
“Okay... you know I can’t actually dance.”
“That’s all right; no one’ll know what you’re listening to.”
Ciara and Beatrix came up to the entry desk. Beatrix reached for her purse, and then swore.
“I forgot to bring my purse.”
Ciara swore. “I’ll get you your ticket. I haven’t dragged you out all this way for nothing. But you owe me one,” she overrode Beatrix’s protests.
Headphones in hand, they entered the nightclub.
Beatrix let out a small gasp in appreciation and wonder. There were at least fifty people inside, dancing and swaying and all completely unsynchronised with each other’s movements. All dancing to silence. It was beautiful.
“It’s... surreal.”
“Surreal?”
“Yeah...” Beatrix tried to explain it. “The night before my thesis is due in I’m here at a silent disco wearing your dress. And your earrings which keep falling out. And your shoes – also which don’t properly.”
Ciara laughed. She put on her headphones. “Make the most of it girl. Come on!”
Ciara towed her into the crowd and began swinging her arms and moving her body. Beatrix didn’t recognise the song playing on her headphones. Still, might as well make the most of it.
She began to dance. By the next song she had loosened up and was enjoying herself. Ciara was right; it had been a long time since she had gone out and let her hair down. Her thesis had fallen from her mind. She was dancing to her own rhythm. She felt free.
“I’m going to get us a drink,” Ciara said. “Want one?”
“Harp.”
Ciara left Beatrix dancing away to herself. She had her eyes closed, her hands above her head as she swung her hips.
Something thumped into her from her front and knocked off her headphones. The music stopped and her mind was jerked back to the quiet dance floor. She started.
“Sorry! Sorry!”
She opened her eyes to find herself intimately face-to-face with what she could only describe as a tall, dark, handsome stranger. Well, his hair was black and his eyes were brown. She dropped her hands down with embarrassment.
He was still apologising as he knelt down to pick up hers and his headphones. He handed a pair back to her.
“Sorry about that.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Beatrix smiled. He smiled back.
Go for it! she thought. “Want to dance?”
“Sure.”
They began to dance together, completely to their own music but (in Beatrix’s now smitten eyes) in perfect formation. They didn’t say anything but continued to smile. For a second Beatrix wondered why Ciara wasn’t back yet, and then decided that she didn’t mind. As far as Beatrix was concerned, it was just him and her there.
A song came on in her headphones that she recognised. She made a quick mental calculation, and concluded with I like this guy. I’m going to put my arms around his shoulders now.
She did so. He put his hands around her waist.
She kissed him. He kissed her back.
When they parted he lifted off one of her headphones and said, “I’ll be back in a minute. Don’t go anywhere.”
“No,” she replied dumbly. Not smiling now but grinning. When he had gone she meandered to the edge of the dance floor and took off her headphones, running a hand through her hair. Her cheeks were hot.
While she waited she took out her phone. The time was 1:14AM.
And I’ve yet to finish my thesis.
As soon as she had that thought about it she tried to take it back and couldn’t. It felt like someone had thrown a bucket of ice-cold water all over her. It quenched the fire inside of her and left her shivering.
“Damnit!” she whispered with as much venom as she could muster. She had to finish it. She wouldn’t be able to relax now unless she did.
She took one more glance out at the crowd, to see if she could see Mr. Tall Dark And Handsome (Why didn't I ask him what his name was?) anywhere. She couldn’t.
Beatrix didn’t think twice. She put down her headphones on a table and ran for the door.

“Where the hell did you go last night?” Ciara was berating her.
Beatrix was lying on her bed at her laptop again. “I… panicked. I had to finish my thesis.”
“God damn it woman. I saw that fine-ass lad you were with. Why didn’t you stick around?”
Beatrix thought about answering and then found out she didn’t have a good answer.
“Well, I’ll probably never see him again. No real loss.”
Ciara shook her head in exasperation. “Mind if I get everything back off you then. They do count as ‘a real loss’ for me.”
“Sure. Your shoes are there, your earrings are on my desk and your dress is hanging up in the wardrobe.”
Ciara gathered them up as Beatrix typed the last few words to her conclusion. Done. At last.
“Beatrix, where are my earrings?”
“On the desk.”
“Are you sure? There’s only one of them here.”

Aaron stopped outside the house, double-checking the address. The girl who’d answered the ad on the poster had directed him here. It was the right house.
He knocked on the door, feeling nervous.
Don’t be he chided himself. You’re only here to give some girl back her earring. That’s all.
He waited.
I hope it’s her.
The door opened. He tried to keep disappointment from his face. Not her...
“Hi, I’m Ciara.”
“Aaron,” he shook her hand. “You own the earring, I believe?”
“Yep. Come on in, I’ll get you the other one as proof.”
She led him into the kitchen and filled the kettle.
“Tea? Coffee?”
“If you’re offering.”
Ciara set the kettle on boil and excused herself For a minute.
“Milk? Sugar?”
“Milk, one sugar.”
“So, Aaron, are you in the...”
Ciara trailed off as she noticed Aaron’s mouth hanging open. In the doorway Beatrix was equally dumbfounded. She was the first to regain her powers of speech.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi,” he replied.
“Do you two know each other?” Ciara asked.
“I think so. My name’s Aaron.”
“Beatrix. You found the earring?”
“It was caught in the fabric in the headphones. We must have switched them when I bumped into you.”
Beatrix let out an Ahh... of understanding.
Aaron walked up to her. He took the second earring out of his pocket.
“May I?”
“Sure.” Beatrix pulled her hair back and Aaron pushed the earring into her piercing. He gave it a small tick. It came loose and fell to the floor.
“It doesn’t fit,” he breathed. “It is you...”
“Can I have my earring back now?” Ciara asked.
Beatrix wasn’t listening as she and Aaron kissed again. There was just the two of them in the world.


“So, what was your song?” Nicole asked.
“Actually we have two songs," Beatrix responded. “Because we were listening to two different things when we first kissed.”
“Mine is Everything Changes But You. Take That,” Aaron told Nicole.
“Mine is One and One,” Beatrix added. “Robert Miles, if you remember it.”
“Can’t say as I do,” Nicole shook her head. “What about you housemate?”
“Ciara?” Beatrix’s smile slipped a little. “Well, we grew apart when I moved out. I haven’t spoken to her in about a year now. I really should get back in touch with her again. She was always good with me. I wouldn’t have gone out mind you, but she pushed me into it. She lent me her dress, her shoes, her earrings. She even paid for me in after I forgot my money. She gave me so much. She was an absolute angel.”

“All rise for the right honourable Judge Humpty Dumpty”, proclaimed the court clerk as the large oak doors swung open. With that, a hush fell over the packed courtroom and everybody stood. Judge Humpty Dumpty took his place on top of the bench with his short legs dangling over the top. Once he was settled, the court clerk proceeded, “Your honour, we are here today for the case of Prince Charming v Cinderella. The plaintiff alleges that Cinderella stole various sums of royal money and betrayed his trust during the first year of their marriage.”

Cinderella sank into her chair as tears began to form in her eyes. Never before had a trial received so much attention and the court was filled with visitors from far and wide. Jack had climbed all the way down the Beanstalk to be there, whilst the hare had raced the tortoise to the courtroom with predictable results. The Snow Queen sat towards the back wondering how she would survive the heated atmosphere whilst Mother Goose shook her head at the very thought of the allegations.

“Counsel for the plaintiff, make your case”, instructed Judge Hupmty Dumpty. The Big Bad Wolf sprang to his feet and glared at the gallery. “Your Honour”, he began “when Prince Charming met Cinderella, she was nothing more than a domestic maid. He took pity on a simple servant girl and made her his wife.”

The Big Bad Wolf looked directly at Cinderella and his expression darkened as he said “But, Prince Charming was not aware of Cinderella’s greed and her willingness to betray him for her own gain. Your Honour, the prosecution will demonstrate that Cinderella has wilfully abused her relationship with Prince Charming for her own gain and that she should be banished from the land.”

Cinderella wished that the ground would open up and swallow her as the Judge invited the defence counsel to make their case. A reassuring arm rested on Cinderella’s shoulder as The Fairy Godmother began, “Your Honour, my client vigorously denies all of these charges. And further to that, we will also prove that this case has been taken to try and discredit my client after the plaintiff discovered that Cinderella was intending to file divorce papers on the grounds of adultery.” Another gasp rose from the public gallery and Judge Humpty Dupmty almost fell of his bench, causing all of the king’s men to rush forward to try and catch him. The judge steadied himself and waved them away before instructing the prosecution to call the first witness.


What followed was a morning of testimony accusing Cinderella of all types of crimes. Cinderella’s stepsisters accused her of sabotaging their plans to find a husband by christening them ‘The Ugly Sisters”. Peter told the court that Cinderella put him up to crying Wolf and the two little pigs shook with fear as they said that Cinderella had stolen royal money to build each of them a house. The Fairy Godmother refused each opportunity to cross examine the witnesses.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, The Big Bad Wolf returned to his seat. Judge Humpty Dumpty looked at the defence and asked if they wished to contest any of the charges. The Fairy Godmother jumped into action. “Your Honour what you have just witnessed was a carefully choreographed charade intended to discredit my client. None of these allegations are true and I will prove with just one witness that it is Prince Charming who should be in the dock.”

The Big Bad Wolf jumped up and shouted “Your Honour, the prosecution objects. I see no reason why the good name of Prince Charming should be dragged through the mud by Cinderella and her lawyer when it has already been proven that she is guilty. I move for the case to be closed and Cinderella banished.”

The Fairy Godmother spun towards The Big Bad Wolf and loudly said “How dare the counsel deride my client without foundation”. The Big Bad Wolf was about to reply when the judge banged his gravel angrily against the bench. Turning back to the defence, Judge Humpty Dumpty said “As much as I disagree with the way that the point was made, the prosecutor may be right. I am afraid that there is an overwhelming level of evidence against your client and if you only have her word against it then we may as well close the case now.”

The Fairy Godmother kept staring at The Big Bad Wolf and raised her arm from her side and flicked her thumb into the air. “ Your Honour”, she began “the defence has no intention of calling Cinderella to the stand.” Prince Charming looked nervously at The Big Bad Wolf as a small figure moved from behind The Fairy Godmother’s thumb. Those at the front of the court and with good eyesight immediately recognised the figure as Tom Thumb. He jumped towards the stand and landed perfectly on the top of it.

The Fairy Godmother continued, “Before Cinderella married Prince Charming I had my doubts about his character so I employed Mr. Tom Thumb to keep an eye on him. Mr. Thumb can you outline what you discovered about Prince Charming?”

Tom Thumb cleared his throat and began “Firstly, Prince Charming has been having an affair with three other women. I have witnessed him having relations with Goldilocks, Rapunzel and most worryingly, Snow White and the seven dwarfs. And further to that”, he continued, “Prince Charming and The Big Bad Wolf are working with the ugly sisters and they kidnapped Peter’s mother and one of the little pigs and made them testify against Cinderella.”

The Fairy Godmother looked at the bench and said “we have photographic evidence to prove all of this.” She handed the judge a folder. The Big bad Wolf scowled and made a run for the folder, but all the king’s men restrained him. During the commotion, Prince Charming tried to sneak out the door but the two little pigs and Peter blocked his way. The judge ordered the guards to arrest him and the ugly sisters for kidnapping.

When order had been restored, Judge Humpty Dumpty thanked Tom Thumb and The Fairy Godmother. Turning to Cinderella, he granted her a divorce from Prince Charming and banished all of the kidnappers from the land. Cinderella was made the Queen and greeted with cheers from her new subjects in the gallery. The colour returned to her cheeks and her smile lit up the room. And they all lived happily ever after.