Collection 1

by Therese A. Kramer

  Zoë sat upright with a scream lodged in her throat. Her heart was beating so hard against her chest she feared it might explode. Surely, her nightmare was a true warning that should be taken to heart. And consider it she did, but she refrained from telling Albert for there wasn’t anything he could do.

  Oh, he claimed to have searched the county-side with his men the past few days, but to no avail. Even the caves were explored with her warning that her dragon be not harmed. Neither hide nor hair on the wart of a witch’s chin could she be found. And it goes without say that that didn’t surprise Zoë. She asked her prince to forget the wicked queen. He gave in reluctantly but he continued to have a guard at her side at all times.

  Nightly, Zoë had the same recurring dream. But she swore to herself that she’d not buckle down to the queen’s threats. What harm could come to her if she was already in Limbo, or a coma? She was certain that as soon as she and Albert were wed, those dreams would end.

  Do nae take my mother’s threats lightly, warned Snowy.

  Zoë sighed. Look, we must come to terms. When I’m wed to the prince, you must leave. I cannot have you lecturing me all my life.

  What if ’tis impossible, asked Snowy.

  Zoë groaned. She hadn’t thought about that. God, she was between the devil and a hard place. Well, she had enough problems, so she decided to cross that bridge when she came to it. If she and Albert were happy, she’d live with Snowy’s nagging.

  But she then wondered if that was her thought or Snowy’s

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The day of the wedding came swiftly. Dressed in a cream colored gown, adorned with seed pearls, Zoë looked at her reflection; she was indeed a picture of a real princess.

  A crown of sparking jewels adorned her dark hair that was pulled back and cascaded down in ringlets. Rubies dangled from her earlobes and a scented sachet hung from the gold rope tied around her waist. In her wildest dreams she could have never versioned herself looking as she was now.

  Someone pinch me.

  If I could I would, threatened Snowy.

  On second thought, she answered, I’d rather not wake up now; definitely not now.

  The voice in her head made a pitiful groan.

  A tap on the door not only slammed her heart into her ribcage but ceased anymore conversations with Snowy. There was no time for any regrets, her fate had been sealed, and so she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. This was the first day of the rest of her life, such as it was. When the young servant opened the door, another entered and curtsied, saying, “I have a box for ye.”

  “Oh, my, is it from the prince?” Zoë inquired taking the gift but didn‘t wait for an answer and opened it. “Oh, what a beautiful necklace, you must thank Prince Albert for me, Rose.”

  Zoë removed the gold chocker, studded with emeralds.

  “It appears to be a serpent,” she said mostly to herself but another servant heard and remarked that it did indeed look like a snake. The woman claimed that it had ruby eyes, and a most handsome piece if she did say so herself.

  “I wonder how one puts it on?” Zoë inspected it closely.

  “May I?” the servant held out her hand and Zoë watched the woman study it a moment, fascinated also by the piece. She played with the necklace until it opened by a catch on its tail.

  “How ingenuous,” commended Zoë as it was placed around her neck.

  “’Tis time,” someone said and she nodded.

  Something old, something new, something borrowed, something cursed, mused the jeweled snake. The serpent was glad that the servant Rose left without telling the bride that she had found the gift lying by the door and had also assumed it was from the prince.

  Garfield escorted Zoë down the stairs and into the great-room. She noticed some guests were seated and others were standing around the dais. Albert stood at the far end looking so handsome. By his side stood an elderly man she assumed was the priest, Father Karl. With a trembling smile she took her husband-to-be-hand wishing that her knees would stop fighting each other and the bees would stop stinging her stomach. Before she realized it, she was Mrs. Albert Charming or Lady Charming in that era.

  Now, it wasn’t until halfway though the meal had her husband noticed and mention the exquisite necklace that adorned her lovely neck. She touched it and smiled.

  “Oh, yes, and I want to thank you for such a rare piece. It must have cost a king’s ransom.” She did not miss the perplexed expression on his face before she looked down suddenly feeling the metal getting warm and begin to get tighter cutting off her air supply. Gasping, Zoë clutched her throat.

  Albert seeing her struggling asked,” Are ye all right, my wife?”

  Zoë could do nothing but gasp and tried to unfasten the chocker.

  “My love!” cried Albert.

  Staggering to her feet, the room spun and her eyes rolled back into her head. This can’t be happening again, was her last thought before collapsing onto the stone floor.

  “Zoë!” Albert wailed as he clasped his bride to him, confused and stunned on what had happened to her. The guests were murmuring amongst themselves until the priest placed his ear to her chest, then the room grew silent, all were waiting with curiosity and anticipation. With a sad shake of his head the man of the cloth said with great regret, “Sorry, milord, she is nae breathing. Yer wife is dead.”

  Albert let out a blood curdling piercing cry making all in the room tremble with fright. Then before his unbelieving eyes the necklace came alive and slithered off his bride’s neck. Loud gasps echoed through the room, and one woman screamed before swooning.

  “God’s teeth! Damn!” So enraged, Albert cursed and drew his dirk. It sailed swiftly through the air cutting off the asp’s head. The ruby eyes turned to blood and seeped into the stone floor. A murmur crescendo and faded, then murmurs filled the room as Albert knelt by his wife and wept. But suddenly a gasp was released from the limp body making his head jerk up. Dumbfounded, he watched her chest rise again and again as she sucked in much needed air into her lungs.

  Father Karl, as well as the onlookers were as confused as he, some even blessed themselves. “Praise the Lord, she lives,” he shouted.

  Her eyes fluttered open and Albert lifted her and into his arms and cried, “Zoë! Oh, God, Zoë!” he cried and then placed his cheek on her chest and wept. When he felt her hand stroking his head, he looked up blinking away tears

  “My husband, why do ye weep?” she whispered and looked around at all the worried faces and smiled. “Help me up, I am well.” He did and carried her to his chambers where she was placed on the bed. “My husband, my name is Snowy, not Zoë. She is gone.”

  It took his lady-wife quite awhile to explain the strange tale to him, though by no means, she admitted to him, did she comprehend it at all herself.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Zoë?” She’s coming around,” said a woman’s voice.

  Zoë opened her eyes to see her good friend, Deborah; her worried face was close to hers.

  “God, you gave us a good fright,” proclaimed Deborah.

  Zoë was certain she looked as confused as she felt. “Us?” She tried to sit. “What happened? And what are you doing here, Deb?”

  “Here, let me help you up. Thank goodness I came when I did.” She led her to a chair. “Hurry, with the water!” Deborah yelled over her shoulder.

  Zoë frowned. “Who are you screaming at?” she was totally confused.

  “My cousin,” she explained. He arrived in town and was taking me to dinner. I suggested we ask you to join us. When you didn’t answer my knock, I heard a crash. Luckily, I had your extra key in my pocket. Quickly, we entered and found you gasping for air on the floor. My cuz gave you the Heimlich procedure and a piece of an apple flew from your mouth. You’ve been out cold for a few minutes.”

  Zoë rubbed her temples. “Damn, Deb, you’re never going to believe the strange dream I had. Gagzooks, it felt so real. I was sure I was in a…” Her
mouth dropped upon seeing the young man enter the room holding a glass of water.

  “What is it?” asked Deborah. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.” She turned and looked at Zoë, who was staring back at her friend just as strangely.

  “Okay, what gives here?” she asked. “Who is he?” she clutched her throat, wondering if she was still in a coma having another dream.

  Deborah took the glass from the young man and handed it to her. “Here, drink this, you need it.”

  She took a gulp just as Deborah explained, “He’s my cousin Albert, from England.”

  Water spewed from Zoë’s mouth and the glass crashed to the floor. “Is this a joke?” she gasped.

  Now it was Deborah’s turned to look befuddled. “Joke? No, I wouldn’t call chocking a joke!”

  While the friends were trying to understand one another, Albert was scrutinizing the woman. He had never seen such a beauty as this Zoë. She owned big chocolate eyes, raven hair and a fair complexion that reminded him a new fallen snow.

  He smiled and took the woman’s trembling hand. “My name is Albert Charming, but you can call me Bert.”

  The dazed woman’s eyes rolled behind her lids and she fainted.

  “You have a strange effect on woman, cuz,” Deborah said annoyingly.

  Albert merely smiled. “This time you fetch the water, Deb,” he suggested because he had a weird thought. When he was alone, he planted a kiss on Zoë’s sweet mouth making her eyes pop open.

  “My prince,” she smiled and kissed him back.

  The Happy End… Again

  Prince Charming –A Romance fairytale that stretches the imagination for believers and non-believers. Zoë White chokes on an apple in the present. In another era, Prince Charming comes upon a beautiful young woman lying in state So in awe of her beauty he kisses her red lips and Zoë awakens to find she’s staring at the handsomest man she has ever laid her eyes on. Zoë hears the name Snowy uttered by some little men making her believe she’s in some sort of coma and insists that her name is Zoë, not Snowy. The prince takes her home to his castle, and she’s enthralled, living this fairytale dream and falls in love with him. On her wedding day she receives a mysterious gift of a necklace, thinking it’s from the prince, Zoë wears it. But it was sent by the wicked witch and turns into a serpent to strangle her. Once again, she awakens to discover her life was saved, this time, by the kiss of a real Prince Charming.

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  DREAM WEAVER

  Chapter One

  “It has been over two hundred years and still I have not found my soul mate,” scoffed the irate woman.

  “I’m a Dream Weaver m’dear, not a miracle worker.” He shrugged at her comment and pulled at a sleeve of his multi-colored robe. “You set your standards too high, m’dear,” he stated not concealing his annoyance, one iota.

  Trista Walton snorted. “How hard is it to find the man of my dreams? You’re not as good as your name implies, Dream Weaver. I bet I’m the only two hundred year old spirit that’s still a virgin,” she grumbled.

  “You could be entered into the World Book of records, m’dear.”

  She gave him a look that would insult a mortal man. But, he was no mortal man and he was used to her, and he so wanted to find her the man of her dreams, but so far, he has not. Well, actually he had sent her many male spirits but there was always an excuse. He was too short, way too tall. His eyes were the wrong color as well as his hair. Also, his hair was too long, or not long enough; much too gray, or much too blond. There was always something she didn’t like. Apparently, she expected a Greek god.

  “I would think by now you’d not be so fussy, seeing how old you are,” he grinned knowing it irked her more.

  “I’m sorry but there has to be a man out there somewhere who can meet my expectations. I don’t think that I’m asking too much; it is my eternity we’re talking about, and I want to be loved and to love. Please, try harder I’m not getting any younger.”

  The spirit laughed in spite of herself, though she claimed that it wasn’t a laughing matter.

  “Be patient, in about two weeks you should be receiving a gentleman caller,” he informed her pushing back a rebellious curl from his forehead. Again, she gave him that look, which could definitely curdle milk.

  “Do you think two centuries isn’t being patient?” she argued.

  He rolled his eyes. “I have searched the world over from England’s richest dukes and marquees’, to a Russian Czar. Once I even sent you a rich, handsome Sultan from Arabia.”

  She let out an unladylike snort. “Pah! He had too many wives.”

  “What was wrong with Sir Wilhelm? Or Baron Wesley? Or Duke Lester? I even sent you a prince. But nooo! They weren’t good enough for you, miss hoity-toity! And in these modern times, there were athletes, movie stars, even wealthy men, but again, not a gem among them, so you say!” He put his hands up in total exasperation.

  The tensing in her jaw betrayed her deep frustration also. “Oh, good God, spare me the dramatics. If you ask me, English ton are prissy milksops with their powered wigs and snuff. Spoiled aristocrats, to be sure. And here in America, those modern men who played sports were on steroids and the rich loved no one but themselves and their toys.”

  She wasn’t the only one unsatisfied and he let out a disgruntled breath. “You’re stretching it a bit, but you’re getting one last chance, so take the man I’m sending or leave him, I no longer care. And don’t be so quick to paint every male spirit with your broad brush.” But secretly he did care because he had purposely sent her men he knew she’d object to because he wanted her for himself..

  “Oh, really,” her chin rose a notch. “According to our deal, you promised me a soul mate before the end of the twentieth century. As I see it, it is now 2013, and you’re thirteen years too late. Remember you swore,” she folded her arms defiantly.

  Dream Weaver contradicted her with a rude snort, and claimed, “I seem to remember it a little differently; I gave you to till 2000, and you agreed it would be enough time to find a soul mate. But, I won’t get into a pissing contest with you.”

  The spirit sat on the chair looking completely vexed. “I know, I know. I promised

  to select a man by 2000 and if I didn’t, I was yours for eternity. And you were kind enough to give me other chances, but the years passed too fast and you only sent me one gentleman, but I felt no attraction.” The disgruntled woman shrugged. “ I suppose that I shouldn’t be so picky, but you must try your best and do not cheat. At least you can meet some of the requirements and if this one doesn’t fit the bill, I’ll be yours.”

  He lifted his brows in distrust. “Pinky swear?” he dared and left before she could give him anymore lip. Damn! She tried his patience.

  Trista put out her hand but it wasn’t her small finger she raised. The dark room glowed in multi-colors, leaving her isolated to hear his rich laughter fade into the lonely night and she had a sinking suspicion that the spirit wasn’t playing fair. The next man he sent, she’d force herself to love no matter what.

  Spending eternity with Dream Weaver was not to her liking. Besides, he had admitted to her that he had many women in his harem, so what did he want with her? She should have gone into the light when she had the chance. But he was so handsome and such a smooth talker, he could talk a hungry mutt off a meat truck. She wasn’t kidding when she told the Dream Weaver that two centuries went by in a flash. She could recall as if it were yesterday going to bed alive and happy in her home and waking up dead. Trista snorted at her thoughts.

  Yeah, if one can wake up dead. I wonder if it’s an oxymoron.

  Of course back then she hadn’t realized that she was no longer alive. At first she thought she was having some sort of a weird, but beautiful dream. There was an array of bright colors all around her and she experienced a peaceful sensation. Someone called her name from afar. Then she saw the bright light and as she started to walk towar
ds it, a shape began to undulate before her.

  “Hello, Trista,” the voice said as the misty shape began to take a human form.

  “Huh? Are you God?” she asked. “If you are, I am too young to die,” she rasped foolishly. “And I have never found true love! Dear Lord, I am still a virgin!”

  “No, I’m not your Maker. I am your Dream Weaver. And I know all that. That’s why I’m here to offer you a choice.”

  “Oh!” She felt elated thinking she might be able to return to the living. She could see the form better, now that the mist had evaporated. He was a handsome being dressed in a multi-colored robe. “Are you like a genie and I am granted a wish?”

  The man laughed. “I have never been asked that before; I guess you can say that. But…you get only one choice, not a wish. You can walk into the light or return to earth as a spirit.”

  Trista wasn’t sure at that time what to do, so she asked, “What’s the difference?”

  “You can enter heaven for eternity or stay with me.”

  “And what’s in it for me if I stay with you?”

  “You will return to earth and live as a spirit but I will find you a soul mate so you will not spend eternity alone.”

  At the time it seemed like a good idea, Trista figured. And she certainly wanted to experience being in love. But, sadly she discovered everything has a catch. She was given two hundred years to find her soul mate. Well, she had thought, how hard could that be

  Sitting in the dark, inhaling the smells of the old house, she asked herself, “You had to think that!”

  Being a spirit wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but it sure was the loneliest, she mused.