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Category:
Fantasy
Publisher: Tinker Books
ISBN-10: 1775295013
Type: Fiction
Pages: 148
Copyright: Oct 1, 2018
ISBN-13: 9781775295013
Price: $3.99 (eBook)
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Adult fairy tale rellings not suitable for children
LGBTQ
"Stray not beyond the village wall. For the woods are dark and the night is long.
Beware, beware, the Goblin King's call."
Take a trip down the yellow brick road and revel in the beauty, horror and madness that awaits...four beloved fairy tales with a bonus story inspired by Angela Carter's The Erl King.
“Stray not beyond the village wall.
For the woods are dark and the night is long.
Beware, beware, the Goblin King’s call.”
Take a trip down the yellow brick road and revel in the beauty, horror and madness that
awaits…four beloved fairy tales with a bonus story inspired by Angela Carter’s "The Erl King"
Golden Eyes. Inspired by Angela Carter's "The Erl King"
A young girl strays beyond the village wall, into the forest of no return.
Sleeping Beauty. A case of mistaken identity. A spoilt, murderous prince lifts up the first beauty he sees, and unable to wake her, carries her away and marries her anyway. Little
does he know, she's a kitchen wench.
Cinder. A rat with dreams larger than her front teeth. A fairy gives her an opportunity to live
as a human and marry the handsome prince. But the price is hefty. A life for a life. Who will
she kill in order to take their place in the human world?
Snow White. A psychopathic princess with severe Mommy issues. Her mother, an abused
Queen-turned-Regent, was a mere kitchen wench when her husband stole her away.
Murdering him did not slake her thirst for vengeance and a newfound greed for everlasting life
and power. Thus, she asks her daughter to do the unimaginable.
Its shadowed claim stretching over these many kingdoms and lurking on the edge of all these tales lies the great and terrible forest of many names. At its heart, the Goblin King ensnares the hearts of the youth he seduces into his trap, weaving their cages and casting their souls into madness. Until one day, he meets his match in a frightened young girl with golden eyes.
Connecting all four of these tales is the winding, twisting yellow brick road, with no end and no beginning and a propensity to take one exactly where they have no business going.
Excerpt
Golden eyes Part I (Excerpt)
Stray not beyond the village wall,
For the woods are dark,
and the night is long.
Beware, beware,
The Goblin King’s call.
A saying as old as time. Or so her village elders would have her believe. But the young girl’s mind was frivolous. The cobwebs of common sense did not anchor her as they did those who were older and wiser. She saw no merit in their sayings. The young girl did what the young girl wanted.
Now this precocious young woman had a name once. But much time had passed since it had been used last, and even she had forgotten what it was. Rather, she wore the moniker given to her by her grandmother: Golden Eyes. For her orbs were as her name implied. They were bright and fiery, as if the sun had shed a tear and then another, letting both fall into the hollows of her skull. They festered there, so lovely, so bright.
Golden Eyes had disobeyed her elders yet again this fine morning. But not for the usual reasons. She had not dabbed rouge on her cheeks and lips. And she certainly had not brought a pretty scarf to tie her hair back with. And she had not spent her hard-earned money on new shoes. Oh no, this time, Golden Eyes bore the intention of doing something worse. Had her grandmother found out, she would have cuffed Golden Eyes to her wrist and beaten her bloody.
No one noticed the young girl slip through a side gate, straight towards the forbidden woods. The guard in the watchtower had had his sweetheart pay him a visit. They were wrapped in a tangle of arms and legs, frantically working their way towards a babe in the crib nine months later. Neither would be glad for it when winter came and pinched its little toes to make it squeal.
Oh, the grass was softer here! Her small feet made no sound as she rushed across it. It was as verdant as she. She ran as if she was escaping the Devil himself. But the smile on her face was godly. Clouds drew themselves closer, covering the cerulean sky and casting shadows over her bright face. It was as if they warned her:
Do not laugh so loud and dance so light!
Lest you attract the Goblin King’s blight!
Golden Eyes heeded no call. She twirled and leapt, skirts billowing, hair flying, arms flailing. The trees leaned towards her, stretching their bony arms and grabbing at her. She ran to them without a care. Their branches hung low – they were alive. They tore her skirts into tatters, they left seeds and rotten leaves in her hair, whispering after her: “Your scent belies your youth, little one! He sees you!”
Sleeping Ugly (Excerpt)
On a beautiful summers day, a winding yellow brick road was traversed by the muted knocking of a horse’s hooves. The horse itself moved at a pondering speed. Whilst it catches up, for the sake of our tale, let us admire the portrait of serenity Mother Nature graced us with that morning.
On either side of the road, stretched meadows peppered with yellow buttercups. Their colour was so uncannily similar to the bricks, it was as if a million such buttercups had been crushed to their deaths to give the road its perfect shade. To the east stretched woods as far as the naked eye could see, tall solemn soldiers with green helmets and grim dispositions. These woods were widely known as being haunted by many a dark and evil creature, and ruled over by the fearsome Erl King. How fortunate then, that this tale has nothing to do with him or them.
A white stallion came prancing into view, his mane rippled and his tail swung. Powerful muscles rippled under his silky coat; he was bred from prize winning parents and was built for hardier tasks. But he was content with the one he had and carried his prince on his back with pride.
Whether by vain accident or otherwise, the handsome young Prince was dressed in white and gold livery. He and his horse made quite the colour coordinated pair. The Prince appeared to be thoroughly enjoying the fine day, running his hand through his flaxen hair. He was incredibly proud of its thick, glossy weight and had had it freshly curled just that morning.
He had travelled a long way to find this road. Very long indeed. And now that he could see the turrets of a castle in the distance, he felt his purpose strengthen.
This land once belonged to a King and Queen who had ruled for many a year. They had had only one daughter, a famed beauty (but very few people had ever seen her) and the future heir to the throne. Alas, upon her birth, a witch cast a curse on the child and though no one knew exactly what it entailed, it took effect on her sixteenth birthday. Un-climbable walls of briar rose grew around the castle at unnatural speeds on that day, sealing the fate of the people inside. No one had yet managed to get through and see what had become of them.
Cinder (Excerpt)
So, there was this rat –
My apologies. Let me start again.
Once upon a time, there lived a rat. Let not the word stir revulsion in your gut, for this rat was a delicate, fragile little creature. More of a gentrified, lady-like mouse than a rat, really. Her coat was made of the silkiest, pale grey fur, her eyes were large and bright and such whiskers! Not a finer set of whiskers could be found in all the land.
This particular rat – we shall call her Cinder due to her place of residence in the hearth of a cellar – was special for more than just her rodential beauty. She was a rat only in appearance, or so she told herself. The life she would have chosen for herself was far different. She looked down upon her compatriots, who often went scavenging in the humans’ pantry for food. She adamantly refused to do the same which led to her malnourished state. Often the other rats took pity on her and suggested an exchange of their food scraps for one of the tiny trinkets she had stolen from the jewellery boxes of the humans upstairs. Anything to make her eat. They found her habits baffling; to them, stealing glass beads was scavenging also. But Cinder had a very short temper if her principles were questioned, so no one dared argue.
Snow White (Excerpt)
Once upon an occasion, a young King sat on the window sill of his bedroom, watching the first snowfall.
It had been a terrible year for the kingdom. They had lost a war and forfeited the most valuable part of their empire. Last year had not been any good either. The King’s parents had died in a freak accident involving a pair of mad horses. The year prior and the King – who had then been a Prince – had mistakenly brought the wrong girl from the neighbouring kingdom, thinking she was the princess, when in fact, she was just a lowly maid. He had married her whilst she was trapped in the hold of a sleeping curse. Still asleep, she had birthed him a son who had died a year later.
All in all, the last three years had been troublesome for the young King.
The first snowfall was a blanket of healing, layering over the wounds his land had suffered and kissing them better. It was a blank sheet of nothing. A new start.
“Come. Look how the snow falls,” he called to his wife.
The Queen cowered in a corner, grabbing her shuddering knees to her chest. Her lip was cut, her eye was bruised and she had various injuries all over her body. Her husband had made a habit of violently painting her body with the evidence of his growing insanity. She feared he would one day break all the bones in her body and no one would be any the wiser. The kingdom had not batted an eye when he married her whilst she was asleep. They had not cared how insidious it was that she had birthed him a son whilst dead to the world. The kingdom was not her friend. She had no friends.
But upon his gentle command, she forced her worn body into motion. At first, she crawled, not able to stand. Her trembling fingers found the bed posts and she heaved herself up, sealing in whimpers behind chapped lips. It took her six more limping steps before she fell onto the window seat behind him. Her once luscious, golden locks were tangled and her skin was a harsh white.
“It is beautiful, my love,” she whispered, her eyes empty as they took in the falling snow.
“I do agree,” he said, “in fact, it brings to mind an impromptu wish.”
“What is that, my love?”
“I wish to have another child.”
The King was so enraptured by this new desire he failed to notice his wife recoil at his words. He continued, blissfully unaware.
“And he will be the most beautiful in the land. He will bring a new age to our beloved kingdom and he will be my heir. I wish that he would have hair as black as unsullied ebony, skin as pure and fresh as the whitest snow and lips…”
He turned his head to notice the red drops of scarlet on the snow drenched sill. The Queen had coughed mildly, causing the cut in her lip to ooze fresh blood. The King smiled.
“And lips as red as blood, my dear.”
She smiled, her lips straining and bleeding harder. “Of course, Your Majesty. You deserve to have all your wishes granted.”
There was an amicable silence in which they gazed at one another. Then –
Beauty and the Beast (Excerpt)
Once upon a desolate time, famine struck a bountiful land. Plague followed quickly on its heels, and those who had not died from hunger, suffered in the ravages of illness. Misery settled over the land for months on end with no signs that it would get any better.
Some blamed it on the deceased mother of the Queen. She had been a witch and it was now common knowledge that she had been adept at curses. Other blamed it on Queen Snow White herself. She was old and ailing now and had no heir. She had lost the woman she dearly loved, her wife, and was said to be a cantankerous recluse who refused to leave a chamber. Some said it was built behind a mirror, though no one quite knew why.
It was quite a hopeless situation really.
And none more so than in the once thriving town of Hamlin.
It was known as the cherished birthplace of the late Queen Consort, the Most Honourable Lady Cornflower. Snow White had always favoured the town and often stopped by every winter solstice with her wife. It increased the number of visitors to Hamlin by the year, bolstering its coffers with the gold they spent, until finally, it was named the most glorious place to live in the entire kingdom. The plagues of old were but a fading nightmare, as was the tale of the dastardly Pied Piper that had once haunted the streets of Hamlin.
But the town's short-lived glory was over and it sank to the ravages of famine like the rest of the land.
A certain merchant who had once ruled a thriving empire built off of the spice trade was just one of the rich residents Hamlin who had been brought low. His opulent mansion had been replaced by a cottage and his army of
servants by an elderly gardener and a starving guard dog. He had three sons, but two were of no use to him. They had been raised in luxury and had expected to marry well and never work a day in their lives. They would not start sacrificing pride for the purposes of feeding their hunger now. The youngest was a different story altogether.
He had a birth name but his mother had always called him ‘Beauty’ and the nickname had stuck. And truly, he deserved it. He was not flaxen haired like his brothers and instead had hair the colour of dark chestnut. But it was his eyes which his mother had named him for. They were so dark they were almost black and there seemed to be an eternal light in their depths. In sadness and in happiness, Beauty’s eyes shone and enamoured the hearts of all those who looked upon his face.
Beauty was a young child when misfortune struck. His mother died within the same year and he became very attached to his father. He did not remember growing up with toys, or having food aplenty and wardrobes filled with clothes. Unlike his brothers, he had never ridden horses, gone hunting or indeed done any of those activities which the rich were so fond of. Indeed, he did not care that he had not. He was content with the magic tricks he devised and performed, much to the delight of the street urchins that often milled around the house.
Beauty liked his life in the little cottage with both his brothers, as stingy and as miserable as they might be. He had enough love in his heart to share and he did not mind that they did not reciprocate even a jot of it. Besides, he had no such complaint about his father.
The old merchant decided he would travel far from Hamlin with his wares and sell them in the neighbouring land. Very few people in Hamlin had gold to exchange for his dwindling supply of spices and he was becoming desperate.
Before he left, he asked each of his three sons: “What is it that you would like me to bring back for you upon my return?”
The eldest answered, “I’d quite like to have a new fencing sword, father. My old one is quite tarnished.” When his father was surprised and asked why (for fencing was the last of anyone’s worries in the current climate and wouldn’t he rather have a sturdy broadsword?) he said, “Goodness father! Does keeping up appearances mean nothing to you? You may have forgotten where we come from but I assure you, I have not!”
The second son answered, “I want a new waistcoat and as many powdered wigs in the latest fashion as you can find, father. And perhaps a spot of rouge?”
The merchant decided not to question him.
And finally, Beauty answered, “A rose, father.”
To this, the old merchant smiled quietly, his eyes filling with tears. He caressed his youngest son’s cheek and said not a word, for he knew why Beauty had asked for such a simple thing.
It took him many weeks to return, but when he did, winter had come to Hamlin. Glimpses of the yellow brick road peered through an expanse of glittering, crisp snow. It veered around the town and continued into the distance, stretching as far as the eye could see. The merchant steered his horse off onto a smaller path headed straight for the town. He was most perturbed. He had found each of the things his oldest two sons had requested. And yet, he had not been able to acquire a single rose for Beauty.
He was so deep in thought, he did not notice that the horse had veered off the path and was now merrily trotting towards a large expanse of forest to the east of Hamlin. The animal trotted fast, sprightlier than it had been in years. It appeared to be under some mysterious influence, its eyes rolling as it frothed at the mouth. When the old merchant attempted to steer it around, it neighed wildly and then charged deeper into the thicket of trees. The old man was quite frightened now as the weather started to take a turn for the worse.
A most terrible wind roared its anguish over the barren treetops, lashing their branches to and fro. They groaned, a macabre orchestra of wood upon wood to add to the wind’s howl. Snow began to fall, blinding the merchant and soaking his ragged coat. He was shivering from head to foot by the time the wind finally quieted. His horse slowed to a canter and the man looked around, searching desperately for a familiar path. But he had never been this deep into the forest. For good reason too.
There had always been whispers about the strange creatures that inhabited the darkness of these woods. Not faeries, not goblins, but something infinitely worse. In some cases, it was said the forest itself inspired such fear. It stretched over the border into the neighbouring land, knowing no bounds and heeding the territories of no man. It was a living creature in and of itself.
The old merchant was quite frightened now, for night had fallen and he saw no way out. He felt he must starve and freeze to death. What a miserable fate!
He got down to the ground, intending to spend his final hours in prostration to the Goddess, praying to Her to protect his children and what little he had left for them. Even his last thoughts revolved around his three boys, his most precious jewels.
But as luck would have it, the Goddess smiled kindly upon the old merchant that day and decided he would live to see another.
It was the horse’s nervous whinny that made him look up. And there, lo and behold, in the near distance…lights!
The merchant climbed back onto his horse and urged it on. The lights sparkled clearly through the gloom and he wondered if he was seeing things at first. His heart pounded in his ears, a marching drumbeat, accompanying him all the way up to the iron gates of a magnificent house.
“My goodness,” he murmured in astonishment.
How had such a house come to be built in the middle of such a wild forest? Its architecture was dazzling, built in the fashion of the palaces of old. If he tried, he would have counted a hundred windows and that was only in the front. The snow fell slower and softer now and the air was still.
The merchant got off his horse and walked ahead on foot, leading his animal behind him. He pushed at the gates, expecting them to remain firm. But one gave way and he walked through. He was tense, expecting at any moment to be accosted by some fearsome creature, some strange thing of the dark. For though the house was beautiful, there was something not quite right about it.
But hunger and weariness won out and he did not turn back.
As he walked through the sumptuous gardens, he was most surprised to see that the flowers on the hedges and in the ground, were in full bloom despite the thick coating of winter snow. It convinced him there had to be some ghastly magic afoot. It was not natural.
Upon seeing a tall bush covered in red roses, the merchant paused.
“A rose, father.”
His youngest child’s voice sounded in his ears and he felt his heart plummet
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