I'm a big fan of the fabulous Anna Meade over at Yearning for Wonderland. This April she has teamed up with the equally fabulous SJI Holliday to create a fabulous new flash fiction contest with truly awesome prizes.
Our challenge: to write an unexpected fairy tale.
Our word limit: 350 words.
Twitter hashtag: #ouatwriting
And here I go.... *plunges in*
True Love's Kiss the Spell Shall Break
The rusty sign swung outside, creaking. An obscure picture, some sort of wheel.
“Spinning,” Emmie’s pa muttered. “Wool on your fingers... a real craft.” The room stank of cider and self pity, crushed cans leaning crazily against his broken chair. He was nostalgic now; within an hour he’d be violent.
Time to get out.
Dragging her cloak around her shoulders, she left.
It was just like every other home in Thorn, the shanty town that had sprung up in the shadow of the grief-stricken palace.
Fairies. Emmie hated fairies. Trouble causing, princess stealing, lumps of vile magic. Witches were at least human. You knew where you were with a witch. Trapped in an oven, probably.
Her Pa had been a big man, red faced and loud. Singing, always singing as the wheel spun. A master spinner. Top of his game. Larger than life.
Before Maleficent and the curse. Before every spinning wheel burned.
Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t see the horse until it was nearly too late.
“Watch out!” The rider sprang down, face white with anger. Or fear. Hard to tell. “Damn you, do you have a death wish?”
God, he was beautiful. Rich too, with a silk tunic and skin like only royalty have. Clear and fine, not sun bronzed, not rough.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes I do.”
That shut him up. He stared at her. “You don’t mean that.”
Emmie laughed. “Don’t I?”
Looping the reins over his arm, he held out his hand. “Walk with me?”
“Is that a royal command your highness?” Acid in her voice, bitterness.
He threw her an odd glance. “If you like.”
They walked for hours. Walked through Thorn and into the forest, past streams, through glades.
Past a golden haired girl, singing.
The Prince didn’t even glance at her.
The next day they found Emmie’s pa dead, choked on his own vomit. But when they looked for Emmie she was gone. Last seen on the back of a white charger, smiling.
That night sleep settled across Thorn, across the Palace. Eternal sleep, never disturbed.
Not even by a kiss.
Enough about me - check out the other contestants! The standard in this contest is insanely cry - there are stories which will make you cry, laugh, be struck with horror and feel all warm and glowy inside. Don't stop here... read on!