Terribly Twisted Tales

by RABE, JEAN

  He tried to reach out, then groaned and pulled his arms tighter against his chest. Even the tiniest muscle in his body hurt, from the roots of his hair to his toe-nails.

  A calm voice beat against his pulsing eardrums. An insistent hand urged him to rise. Dave forced his eyes open and found himself in a small wood-paneled room.

  A man knelt by Dave and fumbled something into his right ear.

  “. . . edniash trum fimbiar wos—” suddenly turned into “. . . hope you can walk.”

  Dave squinted in the dim light, recognizing the man with the notebook who’d been standing with the beautiful woman in his last vision.

  My eyes are playing tricks on me, Dave reasoned slowly. That’s the only explanation.

  “Where?” he croaked aloud.

  “You will soon find out.” The man again urged him to rise. “This way. This way.”

  Dave staggered to his feet. Cold, so very cold. He looked down, realizing for the first time that his sports jacket and shirt were in shreds. His slacks were creased and dirty. He couldn’t stop shaking as he walked with the man along an interminable corridor on bare feet. The stupor from his mind invaded the rest of his body, and he allowed himself to be led along, his eyes downcast.

  “Here.” Dave’s guide finally opened a door.

  Following him, Dave noticed a glowing light in the dim chamber, looked up, and stared in amazement.

  The three-dimensional display of several solar systems swam in a hanging ball of golden light half his height. Three solar systems were closely grouped to one side. On the other side, at some distance, hung a planet that looked familiar. Dave squinted. The little blue, green, brown, and white ball was Earth.

  And from the back of the room came a scent that made his nose lift in appreciation: good strong tea.

  “T-tea,” Dave whispered. “Hot. Please.”

  “Yes, Trithelmarn, please serve our guest some tea.” Dave’s guide disappeared as the older man with the white ponytail from his visions stepped from the shadows. He wore a sapphire-colored robe, and he was smiling. Within moments, his guide pushed a steaming mug into Dave’s hand.

  Dave sucked down several scalding mouthfuls. It tasted wonderfully normal. The heat gathered in his belly and in his hands and then spread throughout his body. His shaking lessened.

  “Welcome to Lhangficsaria, Mr. Spenser,” the man with the ponytail continued. “And congratulations. I have the singular honor of presenting to you the good wishes of Queen Quilfrineczia and the entire Central Galactic Council.”

  “Who?” Dave cocked his head at the strange names, trying to understand. His mug tilted. Tea splashed on his naked chest. He glanced at the cooling liquid, embarrassed. Dressed in rags, barefoot, he looked like a bum.

  Maybe I am a bum. And I must be dreaming.

  “You’ve had a difficult trip after a difficult time, Mr. Spencer,” continued the ponytailed man in a gentle voice. “My name is Alterfarr Quentarion. I am Advisor to Princess Shrondranaris and to Queen Quilfrineczia. Trithelmarn, bring that green robe for Mr. Spencer. And a chair. He looks none too steady.”

  Nodding thanks, Dave shed what was left of his shirt and sport jacket, sopped up the spilled tea with them, and put on the robe. His fingers trembled as he tried to work the unfamiliar fasteners. He sank into the armless chair before he finished. Clean clothing made him feel better, although the texture and the cut were strange.

  “That’s better,” approved Alterfarr. “Now, we owe you an explanation. Mr. Spenser, you were brought here because of one reason: Of all the humanoid races we tested, you achieved the best results.” He hesitated.

  “I must also apologize. We are the reason you haven’t been sleeping. We are the reason for your visions.”

  Dave shook his head, not understanding.

  “Lhangficsarians are hundreds of years older than the humans of Terra. We stopped needing more than two or three hours of sleep per night long ago. Skedasthinaz, one of our brilliant scientists, proposed that by changing a bit of our DNA, we could give up sleep entirely. Our ruler at that time, Ladiskivesyk the Inquisitive, convinced the Lhangficsarians that changing our DNA was a thoughtful and wondrous thing.”

  Trithelmarn settled a new mug of tea in Dave’s hand. This one was three times larger than the first and looked like porcelain with patterns of active color twining across it. Dave sipped the steaming brew and listened hard, staring at Earth’s solar system in the display as Alterfarr continued.

  “There was one drawback to the change, and it turned out to be an inconvenient one. Our urge to mate disappeared. That was fine, because we all live such long lives now. There is little need for reproduction. But every once in awhile, we require replacements, or a new generation for the throne. That time is now.”

  Dave almost laughed, thinking, I’m not a bum, I’m going to be a lab rat! He croaked, “So what do you need from me?”

  “Allow me to explain further. Bear with me: this is difficult. Our best scientists can’t tell us why ancient urges of some Lhangficsarian females are triggered by males who do require sleep. Obviously, we must seek such males from worlds beyond ours. You, Mr. Spenser, passed the test. You proved you can survive and function fairly well on little sleep. And your drive to assist a woman you did not know was both generous and impressive.”

  Dave’s control neared the breaking point. He wasn’t certain what he’d heard, and how it applied to him. “So what do you want?” he growled.

  Alterfarr nodded. “Your fatigue is ruling you. That’s understandable. So I’ll truncate explanations.” He straightened, made a quarter turn, and bowed low. “Mr. Spenser, it is my very great honor to present you to the Queen’s Primary Negotiator, the Royal Representative to the Central Galactic Council, and heir to the ancient Throne of Penderancys, Her Most Royal Highness Princess Shondranaris Cymbardas of Lhanficsaria.”

  Where are the trumpets? Dave almost laughed again. I really must be dreaming! He clutched his mug tighter.

  A shadow stirred in the darkness across the room. A self-assured tread sounded, accompanied by the rustling of silklike cloth.

  “Hallo, Da-vih.” The voice was pure velvet. “I hope I have your name right.” She stepped into the light from the three-dimensional display.

  Dave stared at her lovely face, her dark wavy hair, and her luminous eyes, which he knew were burgundy. He felt encased in boneless idiocy.

  “I wished to surprise you. I hope you do not mind.”

  Her words were not coming through the translator. She’s speaking English!

  Dave forced himself to stand. Forgotten, his mug fell from nerveless fingers and bounced on the hardwood floor.

  Tall—she’s taller than me!

  “I do hope we can learn to work well togezzer.”

  “M-me, too,” he managed. “Uh, what is it exactly you want me to do for you? Some sort of security?” I could stand a job like that, Dave thought. As long as I get to be around her.

  “Forgive me, Mr. Spenser, my explanation was not clear,” stated Alterfarr.

  “Let me, Alterfarr,” said the princess. “Da-vih, you are not here to be security for me.” She touched his arm. Shock waves erupted from the contact, streaking down his body. He couldn’t breathe.

  “You gave up your job, your friends, and your world to become my consort.” Her eyes clouded suddenly with concern. “I hope.”

  “You . . . your . . . consort?” Dave gasped. “As in married? Us?” He truly had the shakes now.

  “Of course,” the princess said, “but we have much time to discuss zat. I wish not to rush you. Alterfarr, please tell the queen that Mr. Spenser has arrived. We will be in the gardens by the pool and will dine zere.” She smiled at Dave, a somewhat shy expression meant for him alone. “We can get more acquainted.”

  “Yes, Princess,” responded Alterfarr with a bow.

  “Now, Da-vih.” She tucked her hand above his elbow, drawing him along. He paced her, still numb, as she led them out the door and into
the hallway. “I think you are hungry. And you must call me Naris. That is my short name, used by family and good friends only. I will answer your questions. But forgive me, sometimes I must speak Lhangficsarian because my English is not yet good.”

  Dave halted. “How do you say ‘perfect’ in your language?” he asked, looking at her profile instead of at the beautiful vista beyond the window.

  Princess Naris faced him, pronouncing the word with care so he could hear each syllable. “Prondolfcir.”

  Dave looked into her wonderful eyes and took a deep breath. “Prondolfcir.”

  She understood. Her smile eclipsed the double sun shining beyond the window.

  THREE WISHES

  Kelly Swails

  Kelly Swails is a clinical microbiologist by day and a writer by night. When she’s not dealing with enteric pathogens or unruly characters, she spends time with her husband, Ken, and their three cats, Kahlua, Morgan, and Moonshine. In her spare time she likes to read, bake cookies, exercise, and play Guitar Hero. A rumor has surfaced that she sleeps, too, but that has yet to be proven. Please visit her online at www.kellyswails.com.

  June in Illinois made Alice happy to be alive. The air was warm but not yet humid, the spring allergens had settled, the skies were sunny more often than not, and birds swooped over the waist-high corn fields. All this was even more glorious if one had no obligations. It just so happened that on that Friday afternoon Alice didn’t—not work or rehearsal or voice lessons or anything. She walked along the downtown streets, nibbled at an ice cream cone, and window shopped.

  She was so busy feeling content that she nearly missed the teddy bear in the window of an antique store. She breezed past the shop before backtracking a few paces and taking a closer look. It was a brown bear in a miniature rocking chair in the corner of the display, small by adult standards but big to a three-year-old. Age had dulled the fur, and a previous owner had ripped one of the ears.

  Alice’s heart skittered in her chest. It wasn’t just any bear, she was sure of it. She had fallen asleep clutching that bear for too many years to not know her childhood toy when she saw it. She walked into the shop without thinking.

  An ancient bell jangled as she entered the cramped space. This was one of those places that called itself an antique store when really it was just a junk room. It smelled like a combination of mold and rotten cabbage. Dim lights shone on shelves packed with mismatched dishes and tableware. Rickety furniture crowded the center.

  There wasn’t anything cheerful about the store, but Alice felt light-hearted nonetheless as she squeezed past the dusty assortment and retrieved the bear from its perch. Any doubts she had about this being her bear were erased the moment she touched it. The fur was rough and comforting, just as she remembered, and the back sported a shiny patch where she had held it too close to a candle flame. It should have smelled musty, but when Alice sniffed it she could smell the Tide detergent her mother used.

  “Find something you like?” A deep voice said behind her.

  Alice gasped and turned. She hadn’t heard anyone approach. “This bear, I think it was mine when I was a kid,” she said around a lump in her throat.

  If the old shopkeeper found anything unusual about her statement, he didn’t show it. “Let’s see.” He examined the bear with one hand as he pushed his glasses down his nose with the other. After a moment, he cocked a brow. “You used to live in England?”

  “No,” Alice said, “But my dad was stationed there when I was born.”

  “This is a Steif bear, made in the seventies. Sound about right?”

  “Yes,” Alice said. “The date, anyway. I didn’t know teddy bears had brands back then.”

  “They most certainly did,” the man said. “Steif is a fairly well known one.” He handed her the bear and slid his glasses up his nose. “It’s in good shape, too. You took good care of him.”

  “I didn’t see a price marked.” She suspected that he’d raise the price simply because he could see how badly she wanted it.

  “Six dollars.”

  Alice tried not to look surprised. “Sold.” She followed him to the back of the room where a register sat on a glass-topped jewelry case. She peered through the glass while he wrote up the purchase. “You have lots of nice things in there,” she said, just to make conversation.

  He scowled and waved his hand. “Don’t be so nice. It’s mostly costume crap for old women.”

  Alice giggled at his candor. What age must a woman be before this man considered her old? He looked like he was pushing eighty.

  He looked up from his pad and said, “Do you want to see the good stuff?”

  She looked out the shop window. The shadows were lengthening, and she’d wanted to eat a late lunch in the park after shopping. Her head told her she should just leave, that she had bought what she needed, that she didn’t need to spend any more money. However, her heart whispered that the man had just sold her the bear for next to nothing and humoring him was the least she could do. She smiled and said, “Sure, why not?”

  “Indeed.” He fished a key from his pocket, opened a display case, and pushed a lever. The green-felt bottom sprung up and hinged open at the front so that the jeweler could root around inside without the customer seeing anything. The owner chose an item and shut the compartment before Alice could begin to fathom what could possibly be valuable enough to keep hidden.

  When the man showed Alice what he had selected, though, Alice knew he had been right to hide it. A flower-shaped pendant with amethyst petals and rope-and-beaded accents hung from a simple gold chain. The shop wasn’t in a bad part of town, but this necklace’s beauty could have made a nun steal.

  “It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

  “Try it on,” the man pushed it toward her.

  “No, I couldn’t. It’s much too expensive.”

  “Please? Make an old man happy.”

  Alice relented and carefully plucked the piece from the man’s outstretched hand. The pendant was nearly as big as her palm, but she found it to be surprisingly light. She fumbled with the clasp as the man pulled a mirror from behind the counter. She looked at her reflection and smiled. The color brought out the warmth in her skin. It was the sort of piece her grandmother would have called a lavaliere.

  “It fits you.”

  “Yes.”

  The man watched her enjoy her reflection for a moment before saying, “If you could be granted any three wishes, what would they be?”

  She tore her eyes away from her reflection and looked outside at the lengthening shadows. “I’d be able to stop time so I could enjoy days like today for as long as I wanted.”

  The man smiled and cocked his head. “That’s your heart’s truest desire?”

  Alice kept her gaze averted. “I wouldn’t mind being a successful actress. Famous. Respected. I know it’s silly.” She picked an imaginary fuzzball from her shirt. Alice thought she felt the pendant warm against her skin, but it had to have been her imagination. Or maybe baring her soul to a stranger had made her flush a bit. She moved to take the necklace from her neck.

  “Perhaps it’s not as expensive as you thought.”

  “What?”

  “It’s included with the bear.”

  Alice couldn’t speak as the information sunk in. He couldn’t be serious, could he? She didn’t have a trained eye, but she suspected the necklace was an estate piece that could fetch thousands of dollars. After a few moments she found her voice and said, “Oh, I couldn’t. It’s too—”

  “Expense is a relative term. Please.”

  “Really, I—”

  “Consider it a favor for an old man.” He placed his hands together as though begging her.

  “Favors don’t pay the rent,” she blurted.

  “You can pay me when you become famous.”

  Alice laughed. Oddly, that made her feel better. At the very least, she could sell it on eBay and give him the money. Most of it. A girl had to eat. “You’ve got yourself a deal.�
��

  She moved to take the necklace from her neck but the old man stopped her. “Oh, keep it on. It looks so nice.”

  “Okay.” She looked in the mirror again and had to agree. She paid the six dollars and allowed the owner to walk her to the door. As she left, he said, “Bear.”

  “What?”

  “That’s the word you’ll need to use. And don’t forget you still have one wish left.”

  She looked at him, the sun warming her back, the pendant light against her chest. “I don’t understand.”

  “You will.” He winked and closed the door, the bell jangling softly behind him. As she watched, he placed a tarnished silver platter where her teddy bear had been.

  Later, she would wonder whose platter it was.

  Alice had just arrived at her studio apartment when her cell phone rang. She dropped her purse and the bear onto the floor as she fumbled the phone from her pocket. “Hello?”

  “Oh, Alice. Thank God I didn’t get your voice mail,” said the speaker on the other end. It was Gene, the manager of her theater troupe, and Alice had never heard him so panicked. “We need you to come in tonight.”

  “Why? What’s going on?” She checked her watch and started shedding her clothes.

  “Tonya fell from the trellis during a run-through.”

  “God! Is she okay?” Her stomach jumped as she said the words. Tonya played one of the two leads.

  “Fine, but they think her ankle might be broken. She’s at the hospital getting X-rays now. The thing is, though, we’ve got a reviewer from the Chicago Tribune in the audience tonight. We can’t cancel, and—”

  “Give me fifteen minutes.” She closed her phone, threw on a pair of sweatpants and tee-shirt, grabbed her keys, and bolted from the apartment. This could be the break she needed. If she did well tonight, she’d have a shot at the lead for the next play. She might even get a raise.

  Alice arrived at the theater twenty minutes before curtain. Gene met her at the back door with her costume in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. “Do you need time to warm up? I don’t want to start late, but—”