Promise Forever: Fairy Tales with a Modern Twist

by Pauline Creeden

  Choose something amazing. You want him to touch you.

  The breathy voice whispered in my mind. I no longer doubted that the shoes spoke to me. I wore them, and they led me. The smile spread across my face.

  A light knock on my bedroom door interrupted their whispers.

  “Cindi, are you in there?” Mémère called.

  I poured every bit of irritation into my voice that I could manage. “What is it?”

  The door opened, and Gus darted back in. “May I come in?”

  I rolled my eyes. “You already are.”

  Mémère frowned at me. “What’s wrong, dear?”

  I studied my toes. I didn’t want her to see the orange. “Nothing.”

  Mémère gasped. “Are those the shoes from next door?” She traversed the space between us and took my chin in her hand. “Look at me.”

  I tried to yank my face away, but she forced me to look at her. I clamped my eyes closed.

  “Look at me, love,” she whispered. She murmured something I couldn’t understand, and my eyelids opened of their own volition.

  When my gaze met hers, she gasped. “My love, what have you done, Cindi?”

  “I did what I wanted, and stop calling me Cindi.”

  She released me then. “Your eyes have changed.” She drew back. “You have changed.”

  “So what?”

  “It’s the shoes.”

  You will be powerful. Your life will be long. They sing-songed in the background, a hum behind my thoughts.

  I didn’t answer. What did it matter? I liked me. I couldn’t wait to be away from Mémère’s meddling. As soon as I could, I planned to move into The Godfather’s Closet. With the shoes’ help, Reggie wouldn’t care, particularly now that Principe had been fired.

  “Cindi?”

  “Ella,” I growled. I tried to push past her, but she blocked the exit.

  Somehow, she made herself larger so that she took up more of the space. “Cindi,” she said, more forcefully.

  I clamped my hands closed. She had no right to detain me. “My name is Ella.”

  “Give me your shoes, Cindi.”

  “No. I won’t.” She wishes to use our power.

  “Your shoes are hurting you.”

  “They make me better.”

  “They don’t. They are sucking the goodness from you.”

  I jerked to the side faster than she could react and made it past her. “I’m going out. I won’t be back.”

  “What about your Gus?” she called after me.

  “I hate cats.” I tossed the words over my shoulder but didn’t stop.

  I made my way to Mémère’s shop and sorted through the racks. There had to be something I could wear. Finally, I yanked a little black dress from the rack. Black iridescent feathers circled the neckline, and I wiggled into it.

  I stopped in front of the full-length mirror. The black set off the sparkling shoes excellently, and I smirked at myself. I needed something on top. I chose a small ebony top hat from the hooks and pinned it on top of my hair. Fingerless, lace gloves completed the outfit.

  The shoes radiated satisfaction, and I smirked.

  Ella lives. Ella lives.

  I exited the shop as a sleek, black sports car came to rest beside the curb. The heavily tinted window lowered.

  “Ella?” Aaron’s voice came from the inside. “You look amazing. The feathers, the hat…” He paused and swallowed. “The gloves.”

  I bent at the waist and peered in through the open window. “Hi, Aaron.” I pursed my lips and made a show of evaluating the vehicle.

  Aaron sat up a little straighter in his seat.

  “Love the car,” I purred at him.

  He leaned across the center console and opened the passenger door. “Honesty compels me to admit that it’s not mine.”

  “Oh, we’ll have to rectify that as soon as possible, won’t we?”

  He winked. “Anything for you.”

  I slid inside. “I’m famished.”

  “Me, too.”

  He chattered about the strange things he’d seen as a mail carrier. At least until my stomach growled so loud that he stopped in the middle of the sentence.

  I scowled and then gave a sheepish shrug. “I’m sorry. I’m hungry. I’m not sure I’ve eaten today.”

  “All day?”

  “I’ve been too busy.” Listening to the glass slippers tell me their plans.

  He peeled out. “Then you’re in for a real treat.”

  Fifteen minutes later, we sat on the bench outside the restaurant, waiting for them to call our name. It wasn’t the nicest place I’d ever eaten, but it was the nicest place in Paris, Texas.

  “Aaron, party of two?” a waitress called a moment later.

  We stood up together and followed her to a round booth in the corner at the rear of the dining room. The waitress lit two candles and placed menus on the table.

  I scooted into the round booth first, and Aaron followed.

  I lowered the menu. “I want the most expensive bottle of wine.”

  Aaron tapped my arm. “Are you sure?” He grimaced. “It’s kind of expensive, isn’t it?”

  The waitress gave a small smile. “I’ll give you a few minutes.”

  I leaned back and crossed my arm, glaring at Aaron. “When you promised to bring me to the nicest restaurant in town, did you expect me to order water and croutons? You promised me this then and in the car.”

  He blanched, and his jaw slackened. He looked me over and then waved the waitress back over. “Give her what she wants.”

  After I placed my order, the waitress turned to Aaron. “And for you, sir?”

  “I’ll have croutons and water,” he said.

  I laughed at that. “That’s the way. Me first.”

  He shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. “Tell me about your work.”

  “I moved from San Francisco to work for my grandmother. I learned a lot about fashion out there, and I have a degree in fashion. It’s been my dream to start a consulting business.”

  “At The Godfather’s Closet?”

  “No, not there. Maybe not Paris.” Not anymore. The shoes changed all that.

  “I’m glad we’ve had the chance to meet then.”

  “Me, too.” I licked my bottom lip and enjoyed the way he followed the movement.

  Consume him. Consume him. The thought barely inspired shock.

  “Too messy,” I whispered back.

  Promise you will.

  I gave in. “Not here.”

  Aaron glanced up from the basket of rolls. “What’s that?”

  I continued. “My grandmother owns Once Upon a Ballgown. I don’t work at The Godfather’s Closet yet, but I will.” Beneath the table, I clicked the shoes together, and I shivered.

  The waitress arrived with the wine and two waters, one for each of us. She disappeared again, and he glanced under the table. “Those are nice shoes. Do they glow?”

  They suck the life from unsuspecting dates and give me long-lasting life. Instead, I said, “They sparkle, they glow, they tell me what to do.”

  He took a sip from his water and choked on the swallow. “What?”

  I glanced under the table. His sock had fallen, exposing two inches of bare skin. I tapped his bare leg with the tip of my toe. “See?”

  His eyes flashed orange, and he shuddered. He set his salad plate to the side. “Can you do that again?”

  I tapped his knee next.

  He groaned loud enough that the nearest table glanced over.

  “Shh. You’re too loud.”

  He grinned. “I can’t help it. Do it again.”

  Don’t. Not yet. Follow him home.

  “I can’t. Not yet.”

  He glared at me. “I pay for this meal, and you tease me like that?” His volume increased with each word.

  “Shhh.”

  He slammed a fist down on the table. “Now.”

  I couldn’t get caught. The cops would take the s
hoes. “No.”

  He leapt to his feet and then shoved himself beneath the table. “I want it now.”

  I squealed and kicked at him. A stiletto heel sank into his shoulder. “Get away from me.”

  The pumps spurred me on. Follow him to his car. Kill him. Eat him. Devour him all.

  The waitress jogged toward our table, carrying a small tray in one hand and two to-go boxes in the other. “My manager says you are disturbing the other customers, and you have to leave.”

  She kicked Aaron’s legs and Aaron crawled backwards out from under the table. He threw his napkin down on the table and then batted the bill tray across the booth.

  “I’m not paying,” he sneered. “I didn’t get what I came for.” He marched out of the restaurant.

  The shoes demanded his blood.

  I dragged all the loose cash from the interior of my purse—several hundred dollars’ worth. “Is this enough?”

  She nodded, and I threw it down on the table. “Thank you, ma’am,” she said.

  I stomped out the way we had come in. My ride sped by as I exited onto the sidewalk. I screamed after him, but he didn’t stop.

  Perfect. Now I had to walk home. I whirled around and headed back the way we’d come. As I rounded the corner at the end of the first block, I collided with a pedestrian.

  Principe, his face an awful shade of bruised yellow, caught me in his arms.

  Mémère hovered behind him.

  The shoes screamed.

  A Gift

  Principe

  “One shoe can change your life.”

  – Cinderella

  Cindi/Ella slammed into me, and I clamped my arms around her. “Got you.”

  She let out a feral scream, and I danced one way and then the other. I had to keep the shoes from touching me. If they touched my skin, they’d start to drain my life away, too. That’s what Mémère had said.

  Down the block, people bumped into one another trying to get a good look. We were already drawing the wrong kind of attention.

  The feathers around her collar tickled my nose, and I fought a sneeze.

  “Hold her, Principe,” her grandmother said, diving at her feet.

  I wouldn’t let her go. Couldn’t. The magic of the shoes turned my blood cold. I only had to hold her long enough for the clock to strike twelve.

  I gritted my teeth. “Time?”

  “11:09.”

  “I can’t hold her for fifty minutes. Do you know a--”

  Ella elbowed me in the ribs and knocked the wind from my lungs. Spots danced in my vision. I bent forward over her as I sucked at the night air.

  Mémère wrung her hands and hovered. “Do I what? What is it, Principe?”

  I caught my breath enough to ask, “Do you know a sleeping spell? The cops are going to get involved if we don’t quiet her down.”

  “My memory isn’t what it used to be, Principe. I use dish washing spells every day, not sleeping ones. Wait here, and I’ll fly home.”

  “Wait? Wait?! No, don’t—”

  But Mémère had already gone, and I was left alone to tend to the kicking and screaming Cindi alone. There had to be a way to knock her to the ground and tie her up. I swept my leg beneath her, but she spread her legs wide.

  “Shh, Cindi, we’re trying to help you. Hang on just a little longer.”

  “My name is Ella.”

  “Shhh, Cindi.”

  Cindi screamed and snarled.

  The sound of fabric ripping filled the air as her dress split up the side. Her leg hung out. A siren wailed in the distance, and I held my breath to try to figure out if it was coming closer. I don’t know how long passed, but I didn’t hear the siren again.

  Cindi squirmed and twisted around until we were face to face. I leaned back to avoid her snapping teeth while tap dancing to avoid touching the shoes.

  A shout echoed down the street. “Call the police. Somebody is attacking that woman.”

  I dragged her into the shadow of a building. I couldn’t take the shoes off her until the clock started tolling. Then I had to keep them from reattaching themselves to her feet like the leeches they were.

  “Here. Let me,” Mémère called, swooping in. She landed on the pavement beside me and pressed her palm to Cindi’s forehead.

  Before she crumbled to the ground, a stiletto slammed into my crotch, and I froze. She slipped out of my arms and slammed into the pavement. I clutched my crotch and collapsed on the ground next to the snoring Cindi. Dry heaving, I rolled from side to side.

  Mémère leaned over me. “I’m sorry to interrupt your moment, but I saw flashing lights. I think they’re coming this way.”

  I grimaced. “Can’t you fly her back?”

  “I don’t have that much strength in my back muscles. If I were a thousand years younger, I could. We have to carry her.”

  I groaned and eased up onto all fours, panting. I paused there a few minutes and then climbed to my feet, fighting waves of dizziness. A patrol call rolled down the street, aiming a spotlight into the shadows. We’d be caught for sure.

  I grasped Cindi’s arms, and Mémère took hold of her ankles. “Let’s get behind something.”

  “No, this way,” she said. She led us to bus stop bench. “Sit down right there.” She gestured to the end of the bench. “I’ll prop her against you.”

  I tucked my arm around Cindi and Mémère leaned her head against my cheek. She fussed and shifted Cindi until we resembled any other couple, waiting on the bus. Mémère took a seat next to us. When she snapped her fingers, her wings disappeared.

  I held my breath. My hammering pulse drowned out every other sound in Paris. The patrol car rolled closer. When it reached us, it eased to a halt. The uniformed man stared.

  Mémère’s mouth twisted up into something she probably meant as a smile. She gave a little wave. I coughed and kissed Cindi’s forehead.

  Seconds felt like hours. Finally, the officer waved, and the patrol car started moving once more. Mémère sagged against Cindi and nearly knocked her from the bench.

  That had been close.

  The Paris Police Department patrol car disappeared around the corner, and the sound of its engine faded in the distance.

  Mémère popped up and reached for Cindi’s ankles, careful to avoid the stuck-on shoes. “We have to get her home. Come on.”

  I took her arms. My muscles screamed as we hefted the limp woman into the air.

  Ten blocks later, we’d made it to the square. We set her on the ground while Mémère hunted for her shop key.

  “What time is it?”

  “11:41.”

  “Nineteen more minutes?”

  Cindi groaned.

  Mémère got the door open.

  As we slipped inside, a deep laugh echoed in the foyer. “Thought you’d fix it, I see.”

  Mémère put her hands on her hips. “Reggie, I don’t have time for you today.” In an instant, her wings snapped into view, and she divebombed him.

  He ducked to the side. “You have wings?”

  “That’s not all I have,” she screeched. She slapped her palm against his forehead, whispering.

  The rotund man slumped to the ground in a heap.

  “What was that?”

  She brushed her hands off. “Sleep spell.”

  From the stress or the relief, a laugh broke free. “I’m glad you remembered it.”

  Mémère shot me a look. “Come on. Let’s get her upstairs.”

  As we reached for her, Cindi shot to her feet, her eyes crazy. She glanced from one to the other and back again. “What are you doing?”

  Mémère touched down beside her. “We’re helping you.”

  “No. I want the shoes. They made me better. Don’t you know that?”

  I eased closer, hoping she wouldn’t notice my encroachment.

  She spun toward me and shoved me out of her way. “No!”

  She ran faster than I’d ever seen a woman run in high heels. She bolted across the squa
re, darting between the large oak trees. Her footsteps echoing on the street.

  Mémère muttered something I didn’t understand and took off after her.

  I followed. The time flashed across a digital sign in the pawn shop on the opposite corner.

  11.49

  Ten minutes. We had ten minutes to catch her.

  Mémère flew high and flanked Cindi, coming around in front of her. My legs were longer, so I gained on her. When Mémère dropped down in front of her, Cindi slowed, and I lunged at her.

  Together, we tumbled across the fountain pedestal. She screamed obscenities and kicked her leg. I couldn’t see enough to avoid the shoes. Not anymore.

  They grazed the skin around my ankle, and my whole body seized. But instead of letting go, my muscles tightened, securing her against me. My tongue caught in my teeth. I dragged it out, but I could already taste the blood.

  Hold her. Hold her. Two words repeated over and over in my brain. The square tumbled end over end around me. My stomach churned, and everything turned orange.

  Mémère landed on Cindi’s legs. “Hold her, Principe.”

  “Trying,” I gasped through gritted teeth. Life drained from me.

  Cindi cried out, her fingers hooked around my forearm.

  Water in the fountain made peaceful, babbling sounds, and moonlight drenched the square. A breeze blew through, stirring Cindi’s hair until it covered my cheeks. I took long and careful breaths, fighting the darkness that threatened to overtake me.

  Time slowed.

  My limbs weakened.

  Hold her. Hold her. It was my one chance to save her.

  Finally, the clock tower at the bank tolled the first bell, the sound reverberating over the square.

  “It’s midnight, Principe. We made it,” Mémère cried. She yanked on the shoes, dragging us over the stone that made up the base of the fountain.

  With a loud crack, they popped off Cindi’s feet. The orange haze in my eyes dissipated. One step closer to beating it.

  The second bell sounded, and Cindi convulsed in my arms.

  Mémère wrapped the glowing accessories in her arms and flew upward. Her silhouette blocked out the full moon. She flew hard and fast but couldn’t get any farther away than the tops of the oak trees.