The Four Tales

by Rebecca Reddell

“Caaaassiidyyy!” The full-name screech came again.

  Cassie stood up and stretched. Careful not to trip over her long, gardening gown, she picked up her spade.

  “Yes, mama?” She walked up the porch steps.

  “Why can you never seem to hear me, girl?” Miriam murmured with a shake of her head, peering through the screen with pursed lips and a haughty tilt to her head. “I need you to make supper while I'm gone. I have a meeting with Mrs. Kemyss before darkness falls. Your father will be coming in from the fields and wanting to eat. He will leave for the signing camp in the morning. We must prepare for his departure.”

  Cassie nodded. Entering the house behind her stepmother, she paused to allow her eyes to adjust to the dimness. They were only allotted a certain amount of electricity within a 24-hour period, and Cassie’s family didn’t dare turn it on until it was pitch-black outside. Sometimes they made due with candles and flashlights.

  “Come along!” The call came ahead of her.

  Cassie passed through the sparse entryway decorated only with a mirror over a rough-built bench where shoes gathered beneath. Hooks for hanging coats and shawls hung to the right of the front door. The walls inside the house were all a dingy white with no pictures hanging upon them.

  As Cassie followed her stepmother through the sitting area before entering the kitchen, she noted that a basket of clean wash stood unfolded on the table in the middle of the room. The chairs spread across the living space were old, faded, and had sunk low. Cassie knew she would have to fold the laundry and plump the cushions before the evening ended.

  “Do you have a spade?” Aven, her stepbrother, asked Petunia, her stepsister.

  “Cassie will be fixing the evening meal,” Miriam announced, as if this was an anomaly instead of a daily event.

  Sniffing, Petunia shrugged her shoulders and laid down a card. “I, for one, hope supper isn't burnt like last night's eggs. It was disgraceful trying to swallow them with our toast and jam as if nothing was wrong. I really think she should have remade them, Mother.”

  “Petunia, not now,” Miriam spoke with a sigh.

  Petunia only sniffed again and laid down another card before lifting narrowed eyes in Cassie’s direction. For a moment, she held her stepsister’s gaze. Lifting another card from the pile, she resumed her playing.

  Cassie turned to the stove without a response. Heat filled her cheeks, and the ever-present knot in her stomach hardened. Straightening her shoulders, she tried not to think about the burnt eggs. Her mother would have been appalled had she seen them.

  Swallowing, she picked up a towel and dried some of the dishes in the basket. Peeking into the cupboards, Cassie realized they were getting low on essentials again. She couldn’t find the homemade bread she’d baked only two days ago. There wasn’t any jam either. The pantry only housed the current basket of apples she’d picked early that morning as well as some pancake mix and potatoes.

  “I have enough for pancakes and potatoes, mama.” Cassie took the ingredients from the pantry with her and set them on the counter.

  Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the plate in the middle of the table. It was covered in crumbs, and she had an idea where the bread and jam had gone. Taking a deep breath, twice, she opened the ice box.

  They weren’t allowed refrigerators or freezers any longer. Both took too much electricity, and their king had banished the use after the last world war. Peace had reigned in their country by curbing their selfish and over-indulgent habits, according to the king.

  “Excellent,” came the distracted reply, “I shall return soon.”

  “If you must,” Petunia replied with a bored tone and flicked another card upon the table.

  “No, no, no!” Aven cried, and his own cards slammed to the table to punctuate his disgust.

  There was a quart of milk inside from their own cow. A few eggs were in a bowl. She could burn a few eggs, but the twins had already eaten the bread and jam, and she didn’t want to think of what other mischief they’d attempt.

  “Cassie, make sure supper is ready in time. Goodbye, darlings.” Miriam went out the back door and headed down the path without further ado.

  Cassie looked out the window over the sink to see her stepmother practically sprinting to the back gate. Brows drooping, she wondered why she was in such a hurry. With a shrug, Cassie turned only to give an, “Eeek!”

  “I do so hope nothing will be burned this evening, Cassidy.” Petunia's bright blue eyes were slits as she glared and stood two feet from Cassie’s face. Her red lips puckered in a distasteful way, as if she were smelling a fish from the market.

  “Of course not, Petunia. I will be most careful this time.” Cassie attempted a smile. She hated when they aligned against her.

  “I am certain all will be in order.” Petunia smirked and glanced at Aven.

  Cassie looked between both and swallowed. If she was brave, she’d push them away or tell them to cook their own supper. If there weren’t two of them, she might vocalize her anger, but experience had taught her to keep her revenge subtle and her mouth shut.

  “Now, fetch what's left of the blackberry jam from the cellar. I can't eat biscuits without jam,” Petunia commanded.

  Biting her tongue, Cassie nodded and turned back to the counter. She rolled up her sleeves and washed her hands in the sink of water. They were only given a certain amount of water to wash and cook with each day, and it was easier to keep a sink full of washing water.

  “Come on, Aven. I want to show you the new outfit I’m wearing for the party. We’ll leave Cassie to concentrate on getting something accomplished.”

  “Do I have to, Petunia? I don’t want to go to the party and watching you model a new outfit isn’t up there on my favorite pastimes.” Aven stopped to pick up the cards on the table. “Besides, I was close to winning this hand.”

  “Right, Aven. I’m sure your previous outburst meant a win was on the horizon. Leave the cards. Cassie can pick them up. Come on, I want your male opinion on how this ensemble looks.”

  Sighing, Aven threw the cards back onto the table. “Fine!”

  Petunia and Aven disappeared the next instant, talking as they walked away, and Cassie felt her shoulders sink down. She didn’t want to go to the built-in cellar until they’d left. Even though the entrance was outside, she didn’t trust either of them not to sneak out and attempt something nefarious. The last time she went to pick up a few provisions, where her father insisted they store anything which didn’t fit in the pantry, they had locked her inside.

  Cassie took a few steps to the kitchen’s entryway to check on the status of her siblings. They weren’t anywhere in sight, so she exited the back door, and made her way down the steps. She went to the right and along the house to the cellar doors. Looking around, she saw no one.

  Unlocking and opening the doors, Cassie peeked within. No one was in sight. There didn’t seem to be any creatures within either. With her step-siblings, she didn’t take any chances. Plus, Petunia had seemed rather eager for her to go get more jam.

  “Let’s do this already, Cassie,” she told herself. Picking up the flashlight from the top step, she descended inside the dank cellar.

  “Why did my ancestors have to build this?” she muttered to herself. “The least they could have done was but it inside the house. Some houses have basements, but no, our house has to have an outside cellar. Great idea, family.”

  At the bottom, she took a glance back at the top to ascertain if Petunia or Aven would reveal themselves. Neither face peeped over the edge of the doors at her. Shining her light around, she hurried to the wall across from the steps.

  Each wall contained the remainder of their canned jams, preserves, fruits, and vegetables from the previous spring. As soon as the harvest came in, she’d have the task of filling it once more. She doubted her ancestors had done that even a decade ago. They had grocery stores then. Now, families relied on their own gardening, bartering, trading, and the king’s provisions.

/>   On the last shelf, she spotted her father's favorite: blackberry jam made especially for them in return for fresh eggs. She grabbed the last jar and hurried back to the stairs. She would have to finish quite a few things before her stepmother returned, especially if she didn’t want to get into trouble.

  Cassie turned off the flashlight and set it on the top step. Climbing out, she held the jam wrapped in her left hand and started to push one cellar door closed before turning to the other. A second later, she saw a dark flash to her right and began falling through the air.

  Her arms reached up, the jam in one hand, to shield her head as she crumbled and went down the steps. Each bang echoed through her body as she slammed down the steps and came to rest at the bottom.

  Unsure if moving was a good idea, Cassie laid still for a moment and tried not to breathe. There was a ringing in her ears, and the left side of her face stung. Then she registered how every part of the left side of her body throbbed. It felt almost as though the beat of a drum was making its way up and down her body. In the distance, she could almost swear she heard the snide laughter of Petunia and Aven.

  “Good one!” Petunia’s voice shouted above her.

  “I should have known,” she whispered and then groaned. “Do. Not. Move.”

  Obviously, I need to take up some sort of training. Burnt eggs haven’t gotten y point across. Perhaps I should help father in the fields more often. Then I'd be too strong for them to antagonize. With that thought came another, at least they didn't lock me in here this time.

  The snap of the doors above had her jerking and sent sharp, shooting pains everywhere. She closed her eyes and sucked deep breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth. They had delighted locking her in here as a child more than once. She should have known.

  “Holy mackerel,” she whispered, as the pain pulsed. Slowing her breaths, she attempted to raise herself onto her elbow. “Ouch!”

  With effort, she finally sat up, her left elbow held in her right hand. She needed to find the flashlight. It meant climbing the stairs, but at least there would be light. Cassie pulled herself to her knees and then to her feet, all the while grunting. By the time she stood, she felt like a princess.

  “I'm sure a princess would be trained for all sorts of horrible falls and nasty things,” she told herself, “Especially if said princess had an evil stepsister and stepbrother, which, don’t seem to be only made-up in stories.”

  Limping to the stairs, she crawled her way up. “This is a golden staircase and when I reach the top, I will find my Prince Charming, and we shall ride away from this horrid house together. The end.”

  Grasping her left arm, she shook her head and then stopped when the darkness began to spin. “Bad idea, Cassie. You can’t joke about silly things like that. There isn’t hope for a Prince Charming in this world. The only prince we have is probably just like Aven and Petunia. You’d think world wars might annihilate all the bad people, but they don’t. War just makes things harder for everyone else.”

  She didn’t have any experience with war, of course. The last one had left the planet devastated, and they hadn’t ever fully recovered. The King of Dalry was trying to keep the peace and make the world an economically friendly place to live as his great-great grandfather before him. Or as they liked to call it: “getting back to the basics.”

  Cassie even making up a story about marrying the prince was so far-fetched, she paused on a stare and started to laugh. “Ow,” she muttered, “Where’s a television when you need one?”

  They weren’t allowed to watch television anymore. They had a radio the whole family could use, but televisions took up too much electricity. Less is more, according to the king. In his favor, the same restrictions he applied to his kingdom also applied to him and his family.

  “Enough dawdling,” Cassie chided and came up to the doors.

  Trying the handles and finding them locked indeed, Cassie groaned. Pushing and pushing on the handles did no good, which she knew quite well, and only caused her sides and arms to hurt even more. Putting them on her lap, she took a seat and laid her head against the top step.

  “It's time to plan my next revenge. Perhaps I should put a heavy dose of dirt into their jam? Or maybe I need to find all the earthworms in the garden and put them in their beds? Or maybe I could just punch them both in the nose. Hard. Right in the nose.”

  These thoughts gave her momentary pleasure, until she acknowledged they would get her in trouble and not the other way around. If her father would stop living in a fog and wake up, then she might have him on her side for once!

  The next second her head lifted. There had been a sound. She was sure of it. The wind? Maybe. A footstep? Perhaps. There was the slightest chance they were coming to let her out. Her father might already have returned. Someone was there. She was sure of it!

  “Help!” she called. “I'm in the cellar! Please! Petunia? Aven? Come, let me out!” She called and called.

  Another noise sounded, and then all was silent.

  “Father, are you out there? Someone?” Lips and throat dry, Cassie wondered if the sounds were all in her imagination. She tried to peek through the slits in the wooden doors. She saw light but nothing else.

  “I am alone,” she muttered, “but at least I have my flashlight. I’m not completely in the dark.” She picked it up and turned it back on. “That’s a blessing. Perhaps there’s something amongst the jars here to aid me. Although, I doubt it.”

  She slowly slid down the stairs and began to search the room. Nothing of benefit could be found to assist her out of this predicament.

  “Wait until I get out of here.” She limped to the stairs again. “I am going to come up with a plan so brilliant that those horrible creatures will never be able to do this to me again!”

  Cassie smiled and waved her flashlight toward the doors. She was thrown off balance by a sudden spasm on her left side. Her return climb to the top was interrupted by a trip, a smash, an “Ouch!”, and then a slam. The flashlight flew from her hand, fell with a smash, and flickered out.

  “Never mind. I take it back,” she spoke into the dark and groaned.

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  Dedication

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  Second Kingdom: A Beauty and the Beast Retelling

  By Rebecca Reddell

  1

  “Obviously, you are two of the idiots who think they will best me. Stupid children. I am nightmares in flesh. What are you?” his voice whispered the words, as he watched two young ones exit the training building.

  “Yes, I’m real,” he continued as he listened to their conversation. “No, they aren’t just stories.”

  He sighed. Pulling the sleeves of his dressing gown down further, he rolled back his shoulders and leaned his head against the back of his chair.

  “Blah, blah, blah,” he murmured. “Hey, it’s not my fault about the sickness. I have no idea what started it. I could get it for all we know.”

  The boy and girl standing on the sidewalk were tall and muscular. Ignoring the boy, his eyes watched the girl. Sitting up straighter, he noted how black her eyes were. He perused her from the top of her tar-black hair to her boot-clad feet.
>
  He recognized her. For the last few years, he had been watching her. She’d caught his attention a few years ago, when her mother died. Since then, he’d kept an eye for her.

  Listening to them bicker over the old world and his part in it, the beast shifted in his chair. “I’m all too aware everyone knows this is my fault. It seems I can’t escape the truth no matter what decade it is.”

  “So, you believe like all the others that you can beat me. Sorry, honey, this curse isn’t going to be stopped by you two or anyone else.”

  He crossed his arms and shook his head. “It is a losing battle. I’m sorry about your parents though.”

  The beast sighed. “Why can’t humans seem intelligent. Is it too much to ask for someone who can see there isn’t a way out of this curse? I’ve tried everything.”

  Watching the boy leave, he trained his eyes on the lone figure walking down the street. A few minutes later, she was joined by another girl. Squinting, the beast recognized the girl as the boy’s sister.

  “Names, names, names,” he muttered.

  “Roz!” he repeated after the girl.

  “Nina,” he tried the next name. The boy was Ev. “What a stupid name.”

  “Her brother, Leuthar, has the sickness too.” Beast pondered this information. “Great. This isn’t my fault!” he growled at the mirror.

  “Unfortunately, none of it is a lie,” he countered. “There’s a big orange sun, and we used to have flying vehicles and elevators which could transport you from one place to the next. Not the old elevators, the ones which just took you to the next floor in a building. Man, those were the good old days.”

  Listening for a few minutes more, he chuckled. “So, Roz plays the believer for Ev and tells the truth to Nina. She isn’t sure if I’m real either.”