Third bell.
She whimpered. “They’re pulling me back.”
“You can do it, Mémère.” Please. Please.
Her wings worked faster. “I’m getting too old for this. This town was supposed to be a vacation.”
Fourth, fifth, and sixth bells tolled. For each one, Cindi shook, and her head slammed into mine. I held her tight. Still, Mémère flew, her face slicked with sweat.
Seventh bell…
Eighth bell…
“We’re almost there, Mémère. Don’t give up.”
She didn’t answer, intent on keeping the shoes from her granddaughter’s feet.
Ninth bell…
In the distance, Uncle bellowed. “Principe! You traitor.”
My blood ran cold. Every cut, every bruise, every day spent locked in my tiny bedroom came flooding back. I couldn’t go back. I’d tried my best. I could still get away.
No. No. Hold on.
His heavy footsteps came in an uneven pattern but ever closer. “You ungrateful orphan. I adopted you. Fed you. Cared for you.”
Each accusation came as a lash across my flesh. He beat me, but I loved him still. Tears streamed down my face. “I won’t let you hurt her, Uncle,” I cried.
“I will tear you limb from limb, Principe.” Fury contorted his voice.
When he reached the grass, I couldn’t hear his footsteps. I shook but kept my arms closed around Cindi. “I have to save you. I can’t let Uncle hurt anyone anymore.”
Tenth bell…
A foot slammed into my side. I curled around Cindi.
“You will learn, Principe. You cannot betray the shoes.
His boot tip ground into the ribs that already hurt. Stabbing pain laced my chest each time I took a breath in.
Still, he kicked me.
Eleventh bell…
If I could hold on a little while longer.
A loud chorus of squeaks filled the air. A herd of small, furry bodies appeared in my periphery, running at full speed. Each one wore a thimble as a helmet and carried a needle as a sword.
“For Principe,” Ainsworth roared, his whiskers twitching as the horde split and ran around him.
They reached Uncle’s legs and clamored up them, biting and scratching as they went. Uncle dropped to his knees, howling in pain.
Mémère dove toward the ground and flung the shoed at the ground. The glass exploded upon impact.
Cindi shrieked and slammed the back of her head into my face. “Nooooo!”
Twelfth bell…
My arms relaxed as darkness crept closer over me. Cindi leapt from my arms. Uncle’s flesh dripped off him, collecting in a puddle on the ground beneath him.
I’d done everything I could.
An otherworldly scream split the night.
After Midnight
Cindi
“I like Cinderella, I really do. She has a good work ethic. And she likes shoes.
The fairy tale is all about the shoe at the end.”
– Amy Adams
Mémère hovered at the window of my bedroom. Her wings beat so quickly that she reminded me of a hummingbird, hovering in the morning light.
I scrubbed my hand over my face, tilted my head, and squinted at her. She had wings. How did that happen?
I expected a rush of shock, maybe surprise, but none came. Wings on grandma was one more thing in the list of fantastical occurrences that happened in the town square of Paris, Texas. I’d seen some weird stuff in San Francisco, but Paris had topped them all. The last few days had really kicked my tail.
I tried to sit up, but my body protested. “Mémère? You have wings?”
She twirled around and zipped toward me. “Oh, dear. Oh, dear. I had no idea you’d woken up.”
“You have wings?”
“All fairy grandmothers do.”
“Fairy?”
She laughed. “Whatever did you expect from a magical plump woman?”
Joy bubbled up and spilled out of me in giggles. “I don’t know. I never would have imagined such a thing. Why didn’t you tell me when you asked me to come?”
She threw her head back and laughed. “Oh, dear, how would that have gone? ‘Dear Cindi, I’m a fairy in a dress shop. Come soon. XXXOOO.’”
I snickered. “I suppose that wouldn’t have worked, would it?”
“Would you have come to see your aging grandmother then?”
I shook my head, growing serious. “Probably not.”
She hovered over me. “Why didn’t you tell me about those shoes, love?”
Shoes!
I flung the bed covers away, kicking my feet. They had to be gone. I didn’t want to be Ella anymore. I had nothing in my bed but bare feet. “You got them off?”
“Thanks to Principe.”
Tears seeped from my eyes. “How is he?”
Mémère dipped a rag in a bowl next to the bed, wrung it out, and pressed it to my forehead. “He’s recovering.”
My breath caught in my throat. “He’ll be okay?”
“He’ll be fine.” Principe’s voice, deeper and stronger than it had been before, sent shivers over me. He paused on the threshold. “May I come in?”
I squealed, then, gesturing with both hands until I made myself dizzy.
He crossed the space and wrapped me in his arms.
Mémère beamed from the corner of the room, her eyes glistening.
I feathered kisses over his face. “You saved me.”
He squeezed harder. “You’re worth saving.”
Drawing back, I studied his injured face. His bruises and cuts had mostly disappeared, and his brown eyes sparkled with a kind of joy he didn’t have before.
“May I kiss you?”
I answered by pressing my lips to his.
Finally, Mémère cleared her throat. “Your fairy grandmother is still here, you twitterpated love-birds.”
My cheeks warmed, and I leaned away from him, wrinkling my nose. “You could go, Mémère.”
Principe chuckled and shifted on the edge of the bed. “No, I have to go.”
“Not yet.” I stifled a yawn, already tired from the little bit of talking. “Stay until I fall asleep, Principe.”
He nodded.
I laced my fingers in his and turned to Mémère. “The shoes?”
“They dissolved in a brilliant flash as soon as the clock struck twelve.”
I covered another yawn. “Reggie?”
“He withered away with the shoes.”
I glanced from Principe to Mémère. “Where did the shoes come from?”
Principe studied our clasped hands. “I do not know.”
Mémère fluttered about until she settled beside my bed. A sorrow I didn’t understand turned her face haggard. “They are borne of an old enchantment. I’m not sure we’ll ever know where they began, only that they’ve been around for hundreds of years.”
I grasped Mémère’s hand. “Why didn’t you warn me about those shoes?”
“I couldn’t be sure he had them. I suspected, but he hid them each time I stopped in or walked by. Principe never was brave enough to say anything…” She paused. “Until you showed up.”
“What about the talking mouse?”
“Ainsworth?”
I nodded.
“With Reginald gone, Mouston took a holiday, had its first parade, and had a fair. I judged the pie contest.”
I gaped at them both. “How long have I been out?”
She smoothed her hand over my cheek. “Seven days. One very long, uncertain week. It took every bit of my spell skills to keep you around. Are you feeling up to one more visitor?”
I scooted back. “Who is it?”
Mémère made a kissing noise. “Here, kitty, kitty.”
Gus darted across the room and leapt up onto the bed. He laid his paw on my knee and immediately started purring.
I scooped him into my arms. “How I’ve missed you, Gussy, my striped tiger.”
A sob worked its way o
ut and then another and another until I wept into Gus’s bright orange fur. Principe smoothed his hand over my back.
Mémère patted my leg. “Oh, Cindi love, it’s all right.”
I waved her away. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”
“Do you remember much of anything?”
I shook my head. “It’s like shadows of memories…” I closed my eyes, remembering the flood of evil thoughts that ran in the back of mind like a movie. “Like I tripped down a dark hole and couldn’t claw my way out.”
Her face pinched into a scowl. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It happened so fast… too fast.”
“Well, all the same, I’d have liked to give that Reginald a piece of a hex to remember me by before he withered away.”
Tension drained from me, and I released Principe’s hand. I collapsed into the overstuffed pillow. “I’m glad it’s over, Mémère.”
“So am I, dear.” She stepped into the air. “Is there anything else we can do for you, love?”
“I’m tired, and I’d like to sleep,” I sighed.
She nodded and slipped out.
Principe left as my eyes fluttered closed.
Epilogue
Cindi
“It’s really fun to put yourself into a character
– into shoes you wouldn’t normally be in.”
– Billie Eilish
Six Months Later
Shoes had changed my life, but not in a way I could have prepared for.
With a flourish, I opened the front door and propped it there with the ceramic pumpkin. Birds tweeted in the early March breeze, singing songs that I could almost understand. I adjusted my feathered hat and took a deep breath, still adjusting to the silken, Victorian pantaloons.
It wasn’t quite the same outfit Mémère wore, but it matched the shop, and the shop had grown to match me. It had been a busy six months. Prom season had descended upon Paris, Texas, and the air buzzed with excitement over the upcoming “royal ball” themed dance.
A bus whooshed to a stop at the end of the street, and a load of high schoolers disembarked, immediately heading our way. I checked the clock on my broach. The Godfather’s Closet should be opening at any moment and not a moment too soon.
One of the girls waved and jogged ahead of her group. “May I get three invitations to the royal ball?”
I checked her school identification and then pulled a trio of tickets from the dispenser at my waist. “Have you ever been to a royal ball?”
She tucked them in her pocket. “Never. Have you?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Do you know how to dance?”
I leaned toward her. “I have a secret for you.”
“What?”
“I don’t, but we’ll be offering weekend classes, staring next month. They’ll be in my storeroom and free to the public.”
She squawked with shock that turned to excitement. She had more questions, but the rest of the group crowded around me. Once everyone had their invitations, I ushered them into Once Upon a Ballgown to talk to them about style and the finer details of managing a boutique on the square.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I didn’t have to look to know Mémère had sent her daily “I’m alive and well” text.
I clapped my hands and rapped a knuckle against the wall. “Hush, girls. Let’s get started.” I began my well-rehearsed lecture. Though, my thoughts returned to Mémère.
The moment Christmas had ended, Mémère boarded a private plane bound for New York where she watched the ball drop in Times Square, posting lovely images with quotes from An Affair to Remember and Sleepless in Seattle.
By Valentine’s Day, Mémère found her way to the real Paris. Her latest Instagram selfie showed a picture of her kissing a middle-aged body builder named Prince Phillip in front of the historical Eiffel Tower. Happily ever after practically dripped off them both.
A different time in my life, I might have been jealous, but my own fairytale ending loomed. My prince lived next door.
An hour later, amid a chorus of laughter and thanks, I led the troupe back out of my shop so they could go to the next business on the school’s itinerary.
My heart thrilled as Principe appeared on the sidewalk in front of his shop and winked at me. He’d proposed in Mouston, of all places, and asked Ainsworth to conduct the ceremony.
Between us, we had already welcomed our first couple dozen couples in for styling. Matching steampunk outfits had become our specialty.
He ushered a different group of young people into his shop and disappeared from view. A young lady lingered behind.
“Hello,” I said.
She grinned at me shyly. “Your shop is amazing.”
“Thank you. I’m so glad you enjoyed it. What’s your name?”
“Aurora.”
“Lovely name for a lovely girl.”
The silence stretched between us, and I waited. I wasn’t sure what for, but she had a question that she wanted to ask. Maybe she needed time to sort it out. People were worth waiting for. I waved to the teens that surrounded the Culbertson Fountain in the middle of the square.
Finally, she tipped her head to the side and a faraway look haunted her eyes. “Will you be hiring anyone to work over the summer?”
I searched her face. I might not know what it was yet, but she needed something from me. “Of course. Come see me as soon as school is out.”
She squealed and danced on her toes. “Oh, I can’t wait. Thank you!”
I held up a finger. “I’ll give you a secret to get started.”
She leaned toward me, her face awash in the best kind of joy. Summer couldn’t come soon enough.
I winked. “The right pair of shoes could change your life, Aurora. Don’t you forget it.”
About the Author
Bokerah Brumley lives on ten permaculture acres, complete with sheep, goats, peacocks, turkeys, geese, guineas, ducks, chickens, five home-educated children, and one husband. She serves as the president of the Cisco Writers Club, and moonlights as an acquisitions editor for The Crossover Alliance.
For more information and a complete list of published works, please visit:
www.bokerah.com
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Sea Witch
Pauline Creeden
A Little Mermaid Retelling
Sea Witch
Lied about, stolen from, enslaved—Ursa just wanted to be left alone.
Ursa only wants peace and freedom, but the spoiled princess of Atlantis robs her of both. When they each take legs and go ashore during the light of the full moon, the princess determines to win the heart of the prince, but finds that she trips over her own tongue and can't speak in his presence. So she makes Ursa become her voice. In order to keep the prince from falling in love with the sea witch, the princess forces Ursa to wear a veil. But will the prince fall in love with the beauty he sees or the one he gets to know?
History is told from the point of view of the person with the highest status—the ones who won, or want you to believe they did. But what about the villain's story? How different would it be if they were actually not the evil ones at all? The Other Side of Wonderland is a series of fairy tale retellings that show a different view of reality. Was the sea witch really the monster that the mermaid claimed? Was the wicked step-mother really that wicked? And what about the spurned malicious fairy who cursed the princess to a deep sleep? Were these villains truly as evil as they are portrayed in the story books, or is it all about point of view? Time to hear the other side of the story.
Chapter 1
It should have been an advantageous marriage, but I wasn't interested. King Triton was old enough to be my father. His eldest daughters were my peers. He was arrogant, self-centered, and self-righteous. No matter how powerful he was, or how ri
ch... being his slave held no appeal for me.
Still, there was nothing stopping him from taking me and making me his. So, I ran.
The deepest trenches of the ocean hid his kingdom, so I made my home in the shallows. And there I relied upon my wits, because humans ruled the land and much of the sea in the shallows.
I found a cave where the humans feared to tread for ungodly noises came out when the wind whistled through, and at high tide there was no place for a land-dweller to stand.
But there was one young man who I had to watch out for.
Evan wasn't like the other humans. He seemed to rush headlong into areas he didn't belong. He leapt forward when others shrunk back. And when he saw me for the first time, I froze in fear. My heart thumped wildly in my chest, beating against my rib cage like a wild animal caught in a trap. But he just smiled. "Hello, there."
I swallowed, ready to flee at any moment. I was a fool. I should have left while the tide was too high for him to enter the cave. I'd already noticed that he'd wander in occasionally when the waters were low. Regardless, if I didn't speak, maybe he'd think I was a figment of his imagination. I barely breathed.
"Don't be afraid. I promise you no harm." He stepped forward with caution.
How could that possibly be true? He could harm me in so many ways. He was not only a land-dweller, but also a prince. No matter what, I couldn't possibly put any trust in him or his word.
He sat on the rock in front of where he stood, not daring to come any closer.
Sea water ran from my hair and tentacles and into my eyes. I didn't even twitch.
"Somehow, I get the feeling you understand what I say, so I'm going to promise you a few things. First, I promise that I will leave this cave alone after today. It's your place and should remain that way. I wouldn't appreciate if someone traversed into my home uninvited. Unless of course you'd invite me?"
Promise Forever: Fairy Tales with a Modern Twist Page 7
