by Alana Greig
As the wolf launched at her, she saw something silver flash past her. With a yelp, the wolf fell to the ground. The hilt of a knife was protruding from its neck.
“I heard you have been looking for me?” a voice said from behind her. Rebecca did not dare turn around. The chances of getting killed were still quite high with the Fairy Tale Killer behind her.
“Yes, I have a proposition for you.”
“Well, I don’t usually do requests, but I would love to know why you entered the woods unarmed and following your own tale path. I mean, who does that?” the voice continued, closer now. Rebecca could feel her breath on the back of her neck.
“Will you turn around? It is rude to not face the person you want to talk to, you know.”
Rebecca turned around and saw the face of the Fairy Tale Killer. Grace was about her height with blue eyes and golden curls that hung down her back. She wore a blue cape and sturdy boots. Rebecca had never seen her before. She had left before Rebecca was able to venture to the other side of Fairy Tale. The creatures had not been wrong. She was beautiful. The look in her eyes, though, spoke of a madness that scared Rebecca. This girl was pure evil.
“Sorry, I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to see your face.” It sounded lame even to her, but fear was in the diving seat right now.
“Really, well, I’ll put it this way, Rebecca. If I want you dead, you will be dead,” Grace said with a chuckle. Moving past Rebecca, she grasped the hilt of the dagger and pulled.
A bread knife?
Rebecca was not expecting her weapon of choice to be a bread knife. Grace wiped the blade on the wolf’s coat and stood up.
“So, who do you want killed?”
The flash of mania in Grace’s eyes shook Rebecca to her very soul. It is not every day, especially in Fairy Tale, that one comes face to face with pure evil. There are villains for sure, but evil is just not a thing here. Or it wasn’t until the author created Grace.
“My mother is trying to have me killed, so she can have the perfect daughter,” Rebecca explained, trying to keep her voice level. “I was rejected for a royal tale and now she hates me. I was sent into the woods to visit my grandmother . . .”
“And you managed to trigger your tale, judging by the oversized wolf I just put down.”
Rebecca looked back at the wolf. Was that her destiny lying dead a few feet away? Was she meant to die here today?
“Look, Rebecca, do you want your mother dead or what? I can’t hang about here too long.”
Her mind was spinning. Did she really want her mother dead? Or should she just continue on and see what would happen next now that she had activated her tale? “Yes, I want her dead. Do not be seen and make it quick. I would give her that kindness.”
The girls parted ways then. Rebecca watched the most feared creature in Fairy Tale melt into the trees.
Rebecca made it to her grandmother’s house without further incident. The door was unlocked, and the lamps were burning.
“Grandmother, I have come to visit with you. Are you well?” Rebecca called, as she hung up her cape and took her basket to the scrubbed kitchen table. It was when she entered the small sitting room that she became aware of the pungent smell in the air. It reminded her of the woods and blood.
A snarl ripped through the silence. Rebecca spun to face the wolf she knew would be standing there waiting for her. It was not the same wolf, of course, but it had the same yellow eyes and sharp, sharp teeth. There was really no point in trying to run or defend herself. This was close quarters and the beast was twice her size.
“Now, now, stand down a moment, Morge. Let me tell the girl how things are going to end.”
Rebecca wanted to throw up; the figure that stepped into the room had once been her grandmother. She was almost unrecognisable. Her skin was shrunken, all the plumpness gone. The sharpness of her cheekbones only made the deep shadow of her eye sockets more terrifying. The smell of corruption seeped from her in waves. Rebecca felt bile rise in her throat. The dead thing before her that wore her grandmother’s skin was not her grand‐ mother at all. It was pure evil. This thing made Grace look positively normal.
“Don’t you want to give your old Gran a hug?” the thing said in a voice that was her gran’s but not. It was like there were two people speaking at once.
The very atmosphere seemed to freeze when the thing spoke. Rebecca was rooted to the spot. Of all the people she believed loved her and would keep her safe, her gran was top of the list. She adored the woman. To see her like this now, twisted and used as a puppet for some unknown evil, broke her heart.
The wolf called Morge, snarled once again and lunged for her. Its teeth found her forearm. The scream that pierced the air sounded inhuman. Rebecca had never felt pain like it. Morge’s teeth scraped her bones. The feeling of tendons and muscles tearing was unbearable. Black spots clouded her vision, and the wolf continued to apply pressure to the wound.
“Morge, that’s enough now. I think she might pass out, and she won’t be any fun if she isn’t able to pay attention.”
“Why are you doing this to me?” Rebecca said as she slid to the floor, her blood running onto the floor. She would be dead soon; there was too much blood.
“Well, your mother came to see your dear grand‐ mother and told her of the plans she had for you. Unfortunately, Grandmother was not for the plan.”
Rebecca was fading fast. Her arm wasn’t hurting anymore, and the room and the thing in her grandmother’s skin was not as scary; everything seemed further away. A sharp kick to her side brought her back to the present.
“You can die, girl, when I say. As I was saying, your gran wasn’t for murder, said she loved you. It was nauseating. So, your mother killed her and performed an old rite that I whispered to her in the dead of night for months and months before this was even an idea in her simple mind.”
Her gran had loved her enough to die for her. Her mother had an evil thing whispering in her ear the whole time, and she had sent Grace to kill her. What had she done?
“Oh, the Grace girl won’t kill your mother; as soon as she is within striking distance, she will be caught and locked away. You see, little lamb, I have thought of everything.”
Rebecca had walked into a nightmare. The author would never have written this. This was a new being that had infiltrated Fairy Tale, and she was going to die at its hands. She needed to think.
“The body you have is weak and dying, even now I see the flesh peeling from the bones. What will you do when it collapses around you?” I really shouldn’t provoke it, Rebecca thought, but at this point she was dead anyway.
“Morge is my true vessel, so the big bad wolf that everyone will believe will actually be me, and I will consume you, little lamb.” “Grandma” advanced on the dying child. One skeletal hand gripped the child’s white throat.
“Who is afraid of the big bad wolf now, little lamb?”
The whole of Fairy Tale was rocked with the revelation of the Fairy Tale Killer and of the tragic death of little Rebecca and her dear old Grandmother. Rebecca’s mother was gifted a new child who would have a different tale. So, she got what she wanted in the end.
The author has lost control of Fairy Tale Land; the creatures are writing their own tales. Will there ever be another happy ever after, especially with the “big bad wolf” roaming free in the woods?
Thank you for reading my Twisted Fairy Tales.
As a thank you I have included a little bonus reading.
Sanguisauge
Bonus chapter
Remembering Paris
I will always remember the day the great city of Paris fell. To The Beautiful Undead – Vampires. Then I was just a student, full of life, hopes and dreams. I travelled from England to study at the Paris College of Art. That all seems like a lifetime ago now. A different life.
I live in the 5th Eme, the Latin Quarter. It is beautiful here, even now, with the cordons and the patrols. I am part of the Equip de controle humain and we are T
he Chosen Ones. My fellow team members and I oversee the Quarter. We Keep the humans under control. There has been chatter of an attempt on the coven leaders Maddox and Boswell. They are terrifying, although, I would rather take them on than their sister Paige. That girl is something else. When the Devil sees her coming, he gives up his throne. Nothing gets past her; she is the law here. You follow the rules or you die, and believe me, there are fates worse than actual death. Vampires can kill you without killing you.
“We’re the lucky ones; we are due to be ‘kissed’ by the immortals, sounds poetic, right? Yeah, it’s not. It means I get to have the bloody sucked out of me and turned into a vampire. The humans already hate us, and the vampires treat us only slightly better. It is an honour, or so we have been told, to be gifted by the Beautifully Undead. Well, as much as I don’t want to be a blood whore, I would rather be that then turn into an unfeeling creature.
“Arretez! Vous Depassez la zone de securite!”
The man getting yelled at just doesn’t stop. Maybe my French is not as good as I thought, but surely being chased down by three large men wearing uniform would give him a clue? Clearly not. To be honest, I am not sure what we are guarding anymore. The humans want out, and the vampires have control. There is nothing left to be done. They won the war. The end.
“Vous devez computer trois. Un Deux. Trois.”
Shots ring out through the crisp autumnal air. The sound bounces off the buildings and echoes through the avenue. The runner drops to the ground. I know he is dead; the marksman never misses. I turn away from the prone form a few hundred feet away and turn back to face the barrier. A few people have gathered there. Gaunt, angry faces look back at me as though I was the one who pulled the trigger. I guess I might as well have. I am one apart from my own race. They hate us and we pity them.
“Animaux!”
“Vous les porcs inhumains.”
The name calling is always the ‘fun’ part. ‘Animals’ and ‘inhuman pigs’ are the tame responses to the shooting of yet another wannabe rebel. We have been called worse. Jonathan and Eric bring the body back to the humans. They hold him up under his arms. The dead man hangs there, a grotesque marionette, who has had its strings cut. The front of his grimy sweater blooms with the deep crimson of fresh blood.
“This is what happens to those who try to break the rules. This is what happens to those who believe that there is still a God who can save them.”
The men shake the dead man as the crowd stares transfixed at the way the limbs perform a parody of the can can. It is degrading and dangerous to provoke the humans. A riot would have us all punished.
I listen as Jonathan gives the same speech that follows every death of a wannabe rebel. Knowing that he is wrong and wondering how long ago he left his humanity behind; did he even have any to start with. Some people are just born evil.
“There is no God. There is not free will. There are the vampires and there is us. That is all there is. Stop trying to fight back. The war WAS LOST. Make the most of your lives. Many do not have that luxury.”
The crowd hisses and murmurs at his overly harsh but true words. No one likes to hear the truth; it burns the ear and steals away the last whispers of hope that many still cling to. Some days, when I watch the humans go about their lives and the way they cling to their existence; I can imagine that they win. The day that being persistent pays off. It is of course a fairy tale. There is no beating the vampires.
The Aurora Stone
Bonus chapter
It was, indeed, the most beautiful day, a very special day for Evangeline; today was her eighteenth birthday. For the elvish people, turning eighteen was a special time. This was the day each elf discovered what their extra ability would be. Evangeline, however, would rather have stayed by the stream reading than attending the big ceremony that accompanied this milestone birthday.
It’s just such a long and dull ceremony, all the standing and then sitting, just to stand again! I would rather just receive a letter from the wise ones. Sighing, she gathered up her book and the flowers she had picked for her mother. With one last look at the dappled light dancing on the sparkling waters of the stream, Evangeline turned for home.
“Happy Birthday, Sweetheart,” her mother said.
“Thank you, Mother. Here, I picked these for you. They are the last of the season.”
Gwen smiled at her child. How beautiful she had become, the envy of many of the local girls; it broke her heart to think of what she must reveal to her later that day.
“Are you alright, Mother? You seem sad. Can I get you some fern tea? That always seems to make things better.” Evangeline moved to the kitchen to prepare tea for them both.
I will miss her. The sadness was almost too much for Gwen to bear. They sat and enjoyed their tea until it was time to get ready for the ceremony. Mother and daughter left to change into their best clothes. Eve had a new dress made by her mother; the material was exquisite, soft as silk with the lustre of moonstone. Eve turned in front of the mirror admiring Gwen’s talent with needle and thread.
Here we go, she thought. Not able to delay the inevitable, she picked up her shoes and went downstairs.
“Today is Midsummers Day, a day full of beauty and promise…” Eve was tuning out the extremely long-winded prelude to her gifting ceremony. Her mind drifted back to the stream glittering like diamonds, the cool water lapping at her toes.
“Eve…Evangeline!”
Eve was suddenly pulled from her daydream by a rather cross-looking elder. Great, she cringed.
“Please take your place on the circle of souls and close your eyes.” Eve walked to the circle and stood in the center. She glanced at her mother before closing her eyes as the Elder had instructed.
“Ready or not,” she whispered to herself.
The Elder began the chant that would gift Evangeline with her extra ability. The circle began to glow, first blue, then purple, before finally settling into a brilliant indigo. The Zephyrs caused her hair to fly and her skirts to ripple in a shimmery dance. The chanting faded away, and a hush fell over the congregation. Eve stayed perfectly still, waiting for the instruction to move off the circle and re-join her mother. She felt no different, which was disappointing.
“Evangeline, you may step off the circle of souls. You are no longer a child; whatever gifts the souls have bestowed upon you are unique to you.”
“Thank you, Elder.” Eve took a breath and opened her eyes to re-join her mother. There was a gasp; a murmur ran through the gathered elves like a ripple in a pond, the sound growing in volume as it travelled through the crowd. Eve looked down at herself. Nothing was amiss. She glanced at the Elder, who was looking at her in wonder, a slight crease formed between his brows. Disconcerted, Eve returned to her mother’s side. Gwen moved her head toward her daughter and whispered,
“It is your eyes, my love, they are no longer the brown of a doe’s; they are the green-gold of the first leaves of autumn.”
The walk home was a quiet affair. Once in the house, Evangeline went as casually as she could manage to the nearest mirror.
OH, OH, MY! Looking back at her was the face she knew, but it was also very different. Her skin was still the peaches and cream it had always been. Her lips were still soft and with the hint of a smile playing at the corners. But her eyes, they were, indeed, a brilliant green-gold, and they appeared to be lit from within, their depths full of a mystery that had not been present when she had awoken this morning. “These are going to take some getting used to,” she mused.
Eve headed downstairs for dinner. After the events of the day, all she wanted was to have a nice warm meal, then to curl up in her reading chair and finish her latest book.
“Something smells wonderful, I really am quite hungry,” Eve said, entering the kitchen.
“Sit down. It will only be a minute,” Gwen called through from the kitchen. Eve took a seat at the table and waited, anticipating the soothing warmth of her mother’s cooking. It always made h
er feel warm and comforted. After a rather delicious stew, Eve left the table to collect her book. When she entered the snug, her mother was already in there. This was nothing unusual, however, tonight she seemed on edge. Gwen had a small box in front of her on the occasional table.
“Come and have a seat, sweetheart. There are some things I need to tell you.”
A sense of foreboding settled over Evangeline. Taking cautious steps, she walked over to the chair opposite her mother and sat on the very edge, mirroring Gwen’s pose. Taking a deep breath, Gwen looked into her daughter’s strange new eyes and began the task of revealing the truth.
“Eve, I am not your birth mother.”
Before Eve could absorb this earth-shattering news, another shocking piece of information was thrown into the already charged atmosphere.
“You had a brother, a twin. His name was Eli.”
The room began to spin; Eve felt suddenly sick and far too hot. Before Gwen could stop her, she bolted from the snug and out into to the night. Eve ran to the bottom of the garden; she had her sanctuary there: a treehouse that her father, well the man she had called Father for thirteen years of her life, had built for her when she was six. Eve climbed the ladder that was still as strong as the day it was made. When she reached the top, Eve opened the trunk she kept there, pulled out her blanket to wrap herself in, sat in the pile of cushions in the corner, and cried herself to sleep.
“Eve…Eve, are you up there?”
The sound of someone calling her name roused her from sleep. “Ugh,” Eve grumbled as she disentangled herself from the blanket. Why was she in the tree house anyway? It then all came flooding back: the ceremony, her eyes, and the revelations.
