by K. M. Shea
Once Upon a Twisted Tale
K. M. Shea
Contents
1. A Twisted Tale
Afterword
Other books by K. M. Shea
About the Author
A Twisted Tale
Joan didn’t like her name very much. It was plain and boring. When she first joined the Convent she was hoping to change her name to something cool and sassy, like Susannah. After all, Sister Susannah sounded much cooler than Sister Joan. Really, as far as a name goes, Joan sucked--in her opinion anyway. It WAS her name that got her in this boat load of trouble to begin with.
Joan sighed and continued trekking down the dirt road, switching her nun manual as well as her Bible into the opposite hand so she could dig out the crumpled piece of paper that held the directions to her newest assignment.
The assignment where she was sure to be killed.
“Why must this happen to me?!” Joan asked the sky, flinging her arms up into the air. After a dramatic moment Joan allowed her arms to flop to her sides before she scratched at her itchy wimple that covered her rebellious blonde-white hair. She hated her uniform.
Joan was a young nun. Sixteen to be exact. That was why Joan was supposed to be acting as an apprentice on this mission, not the only exorcist.
When the request was sent to the Convent of Saint Catherine it was a stormy night. After a crack of lightning there was a loud thud outside. Joan, being stuck with latrine duty because she dropped a skunk down the archbishop’s chimney, was sent outside to investigate since her stench would be likely to drive off any unwanted intruder.
Instead of a prowler, Joan found a note scrawled in elegant writing that was tied to a rock. Once Joan brought it in, Sister Kate, the head nun of the Convent of Saint Catherine, read the note out loud.
* * *
To the nuns of Saint Catherine’s Convent:
* * *
The Sisters grumbled at this, their convent was called the Convent of Saint Catherine. NOT Saint Catherine’s Convent, as many people called it.
* * *
There is a horrible haunting by a demon of unimaginable power in my home.
I have tried everything to rid myself of the demon, but it will not depart from this world. I plead with you, please come to my aid!!! I will pay ANY price you ask of me, just come! I imagine it will soon be the death of someone!
* * *
It is noteworthy to say that the Convent of Saint Catherine was not like any other convent, mostly because all of the nuns of the Convent of Saint Catherine were trained exorcists, and were well known country-wide.
The note went on to explain, in depth, the powers of the demon, which included, but were not limited to: singing that could strike a man dead, a persistence to absolutely ruin the poor chap’s home, the ability to use words of power to kill a person, and it also commonly lured hapless princes to their doom.
It was settled that someone had to be sent. Joan was elected to be the apprentice, mainly because there were only three other apprentice nuns, and none of them were as expendable, nor as annoying. But Joan was only trained in the basics of exorcism. A veteran Sister would have to go with her and oversee the entire mission, since this was a dangerous demon.
Sister Kate decided that Sister Margaret was to go. Sister Margaret was fat and often bellowed like a pig. Joan did not want to go with Sister Margaret. So Joan begged Sister Kate—who, while she was cranky at times, was really a spitfire and quite kind, moreover, was the very reason Joan joined the Convent of Saint Catherine—to come with her instead.
When Joan was ten Sister Kate exorcized a violent demon from the orphanage Joan lived in. She saved Joan, and Joan was very grateful even if Sister Kate didn’t allow her to rename herself Susannah.
But, Sister Kate told Joan after a substantial amount of begging, “Consider yourself lucky you’re getting out of privy duty,” and booted them out early the next morning.
So Joan and Sister Margaret walked the rather long distance to the described house. (Directions were written on the back of the desparate note.) It took them a week and a half of walking, which was quite a chore for Sister Margaret. Joan and Sister Margaret generally did not get along, so they mostly ignored each other. However, the previous night things came to a head.
Joan introduced herself as Sister Susannah to the innkeeper, and Sister Margaret exploded. To Sister Margaret’s credit, Joan had pushed her awfully far that day. For most of the morning she had cried “Suuuueeyy! Sueeeyyy! Pig, pig, pig, your great Auntie M is coming to visit! Suuueey!” as they walked. Sister Margaret had not appreciated Joan’s reenactment of the chimney skunk and the archbishop either. So really, Joan, without speaking directly to Sister Margaret, had driven her to anger long before the poor, squat, little innkeeper complimented Joan on the alliteration of Sister Susannah.
“You are a disgrace to the convent! I don’t know why Sister Kate keeps you around!” Margaret huffed as the innkeeper scurried away.
Joan considered that perhaps the pig call had been mean, if not a bit much. (But she wouldn’t have done it if Margaret didn’t make Joan sleep on the floor and eat pieces of burned bread while Margaret devoured the whole loaf!)
“Perhaps, because without me there would be no one to clean the outhouses?” Joan volunteered.
Margaret’s red face took on a bright purple hue. “You disrespectful child!” Margaret growled, starting to lumber after Joan.
Joan was much more fleet-footed than Margaret and trotted away, hopping over a bench to flee to safety. Unfortunately, Sister Margaret either did not see the bench, or she thought she too could jump over it like Joan had. Either way the bench tripped Sister Margaret, who went tumbling to the floor and landed on her face. On her way down she severely twisted her ankle.
Now Joan wondered if the whole injury was played up merely so Sister Margaret could send Joan off, unsupervised, to the prescribed home to exorcise the demon, probably in hopes that she would be killed.
Joan paused when she came to the end of the road, which stopped at a gigantic cave that had to be at least forty or fifty feet high. Huge wooden doors barred the way, and iron knockers the size of Joan’s head were attached to the doors at eye level.
“Hmmm,” Joan supposed, reading the note. It described a “Stone Entrance” at the end of the road with “giant wooden doors”. Joan hadn’t ventured off the road, so this had to be the right place, even if it did look suspicious. It almost looked like it was a dragon’s lair from a fairy tale.
Joan hefted up one of the large knockers and let it fall against the door with a thump. “Hello?” Joan called after a brief moment of silence. She muscled the knocker back up and banged it against the door. “Hello? This is Sister Joan from the Convent of Saint Catherine, the exorcist,” she tried.
The door creaked open, a terribly loud noise that grated Joan’s ears like rough sandpaper. When the noise stopped the door was open roughly a foot. All was black behind the entry, except for a giant, glowing eye that was about the size of two of Joan’s fists.
Joan took a step back. Had the demon already killed the sender of the note?
She was preparing to run when she heard a deep, throaty, and desperate voice cry, “You made it! Heaven’s be blessed—you’re finally here!”
Both doors were flung open and nearly went flying off their hinges to reveal a dragon roughly the size of two draft horses. His scales were ebony black and his claws were razor sharp and silver. Two ivory white fangs winked into view behind his lips, and his head was long and narrow like a horse’s. His wings were tucked up against his sides—black with silver veins—and he sat on his hind feet like a cat as he worriedly scratched his cheekbones.
Joan’s first thought was that the Sisters of the Convent of Saint
Catherine had been tricked, and that she was lured there to make a bone meal for the dragon. But when Joan’s panicked mind paused she noticed that the dragon was wringing his paws and looked awfully upset as he babbled away at Joan, speaking so fast she couldn’t understand a word he said.
“Did the demon curse you?” Joan asked, breaking through the gibberish.
The dragon blinked. “No, why?”
“You really are a dragon? You’re not a human cursed to look like a dragon?” Joan suspiciously asked, straightening her askew wimple.
The dragon considered her words. “No, but if it would make you feel better I could say I am.”
Joan was now very afraid that she was going to be dragon food. “So exactly what kind of demon is this that even you cannot handle it, Master Dragon?” Joan expectantly asked, masking her fear.
The dragon’s eyes narrowed. “A horrible one,” he whispered, as though thinking about it would summon it. “What is your name might I ask?” the dragon asked, brightening for a moment.
Joan thoughtfully frowned. Was it normal for dragons to ask their future food what their name was? “I am Sister Joan of the Convent of Saint Catherine.”
“Ah, so it is you! A pleasure to meet you Joan, I am Flynn. Now tell me: can you just blow her up, or will you strangle her with that rosary of yours?”
“Excuse me?” Joan paused, she had been paging through the nun manual, looking to see if any of the directions spoke of dragons as clientele.
“The demon, the demon!” Flynn exclaimed, his wings shifting position. “You had better hurry and get ready, she’ll be here any second.”
“She?” Joan repeated, aware that she was starting to sound dull witted.
“Yes, the princess!” Flynn snapped.
“PRINCESS?” Joan shouted.
“SHH, SHHH!” Flynn hissed, moving to grab Joan with one of his sliver clawed paws. “She’ll hear you!” he whispered as he secured a claw around her waist.
“Did I hear someone ask for The Princess?” asked a pouty, feminine voice.
“Now you’ve done it,” Flynn grumbled. “If you have Holy Water on you now might be a good time to dump it on her. I hope it burns through her skin and smears her makeup,” the black dragon gleefully snickered.
From the shadows of the dragon’s den appeared a pink saturated female. Her dress was a pale pink—sparkling and spotless. A silver crown was perched on her head, surrounded by luscious blonde curls the color of gold. (Joan was glad her limp, flaxen hair was hidden by her veils.) Her eyes were robin egg blue, and she had a white, toothy smile. She was the perfect picture of a princess.
Flynn whimpered.
The smile fell from the princess’ face once she caught sight of Joan. “Oh, just a nun,” she said, folding her arms and pursing her lips.
“Ahhh,” Joan said, her brown eyes flicking back and forth between Flynn and the princess.
The princess brightened. “You must be here to perform the marriage ceremony!” she squealed.
“Marriage? Between whom?” Joan asked, ignoring the glares the dragon was sending her.
The princess ignored Joan. “Why the dragon! Look dragon, I know you love me soooo much, but I’m sorry. I cannot marry you even if you have kidnapped this nun to perform a marriage ceremony for us!” she said, daintily lifting a white gloved hand to her forehead.
The dragon squeaked and sent Joan pleading looks, obviously hoping for help.
“He loves you?” Joan asked with a frown. There seemed to be something mentally wrong with this princess.
“Oh yes!” the princess said, throwing herself at the dragon. She planted a big kiss on his cheek, even as he struggled against her, and smiled as there was a poof of smoke. When the fog cleared a tall, black haired boy with black clothes was held captive in her grip.
“Help!” he hissed, straining his neck up against her weight as she threw both of her arms around his neck. Clearly it was Flynn…in a human form.
Joan paused, her forehead wrinkling. “So you, princess, believe that Flynn, the dragon, wants to marry you, and you are against it?” she summarized. The princess nodded as Flynn pried a hand off his neck. “If you are against it, why do you remain here? Why not return home?”
“Because he ate all three of the princes that came to rescue me!” the princess said, her face a mask of grief.
Joan paused, blinking as Flynn furiously shook his head in denial. “I see,” she said after some time.
“Princess, shouldn’t you be ruining my home, erm, cleaning up?” Flynn wheezed as he tried to rally air to his oxygen deprived lungs. She had switched her grip to his chest.
“Oh that’s right!” the princess exclaimed, dropping Flynn like a rag doll. The dragon turned human rocketed forward, colliding with Joan.
They fell to the ground in a crumpled heap and remained there for a few moments as the princess floated away. “What kind of twisted tale have I gotten myself into? And get off, you’re as heavy as a whale,” Joan grouched.
“You have to help me!” Flynn demanded, grabbing Joan’s shoulders and pulling her forward until they were nearly nose to nose. “I’ve tried everything!”
“Like?” Joan sourly asked.
“I hired three princes to rescue her. None of them would take her! I had a witch curse her, nothing happened! I took her to a troll who wouldn’t eat her because he was afraid she would make him sick. Her own parents are unwilling to take her back!” Flynn cried.
“How did you end up with her in the first place?” Joan logically asked.
“By a horrible, horrible mistake,” Flynn grumbled.
“Then why don’t you just…kill her?” Joan uncomfortably asked.
“What makes you think I haven’t tried?” Flynn darkly asked.
“Look, she’s a girl, I can’t exorcise a girl!” Joan declared.
“Oh sure, sexest,” Flynn snorted.
“No, no, no. She’s a human! Even if I were to throw gallons of Holy Water on her nothing would happen! She’s not possessed and she’s not a demon,” Joan rephrased while fixing her wimple and wishing Flynn would let go of her shoulders.
“You don’t understand, she’s talking me to death!” Flynn said.
Joan sighed and slowly repeated. “There is nothing I can do to help you!”
The dragon looked downcast for a moment and mumbled something under his breath. “Sister Kate said you would be able to help. Can a nun lie?” he asked, looking back into Joan’s eyes.
“I suppose so.”
Flynn looked sour for a moment before brightening. “I know! Marry me!”
“Marry you?” Joan echoed, feeling quite shocked. She had never guessed she would ever be proposed to like this, or by a dragon for that matter.
“Marry me! And then we can kick the princess out, claiming we need peace on our honeymoon!”
“Honeymoon?” Joan blankly repeated.
“Yes, isn’t that what married couples go on?” Flynn asked, scratching his head. Clearly he didn’t understand what marriage entailed.
Joan broke out of her shocked reverie. “Look here, Flynn. NO, just NO,” she said.
Flynn let go of Joan and backed up, shaking his head. There was a puff of smoke and he flapped his dragon wings to fan it away. He had reverted to his dragon form. “It just might work!” he said, completely ignoring Joan.
“Flynn, dragon! Did you not hear my answer, NO!” Joan said.
“Please?” Flynn begged.
“No!” Joan firmly replied.
“Come on! You’re a nun! You’re supposed to help the needy!” Flynn said.
“You are right, I’m a NUN. I am forbidden to get married!” Joan sharply replied.
Flynn paused. That thought certainly put a cramp in his plan. “Well, then don’t be a nun!” he concluded.
Joan stared at the black dragon. Were all the legends of cruel, man eating dragons true? Joan found it hard to believe as she stared at the incredibly wimpy and closed-minded Flynn. “Look
, just eat her!” Joan declared.
“Eat her? No way! You must be jesting,” Flynn said, his intelligent, horse-like face wrinkling with disgust.
“She might not taste pleasant, but it would get rid of her!” Joan reminded Flynn.
“Dragons don’t eat people. Me eating her has the same probability as you eating her!” Flynn refuted, shaking his head.
“What?” Joan stumbled.
Flynn rolled his eyes. “Biologically it doesn’t make any sense! The amount of energy I would get from eating you, per say, is minute compared to the amount of energy I would get from eating a cow, or a coconut.”
“A coconut?” Joan paused.
Flynn nodded. “See there’s this thing called the food chain. And numerically speaking you can get the most amount of energy from eating plants, and the least amount from eating something that eats the thing that eats the plants. The amount of received energy just wouldn’t make it worth it! Think of it biologically. The biggest animals are always herbivores.”
“Enough! I get it, you don’t eat people!” Joan waved her hand. “So make an exception just this once!”
“That would be barbaric!” Flynn scoffed.
“And marrying a nun is any better?” Joan said.
“Excuse me,” a man said. The arguing nun and dragon ignored him.
“It wouldn’t be so bad,” Flynn said. “I am rich! You should see my treasure hoard.”
“But I would be married to a DRAGON!” Joan shouted.
“You are so narrow-minded,” Flynn scoffed, rolling his dark eyes.
“Uhh, pardon me,” the male tried again.
“I am not! I am a nun! I took a vow of chastity!” Joan snorted.
“I’ve said it already, but you could always quit,” Flynn offered.
Joan stared at him. “You can’t just QUIT being a nun!”
“So sorry to interrupt, but could you tell me—” the man started.
