Scribbled Thoughts

This one is still very rough but is an idea I’ve tried to make work for a while. I already want to change quite a bit of it for the next draft.

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It was always a demanding job,

but it used to be rewarding.

They were grateful for your help,

leaving positive, glowing reviews

and still talking about you years later.

It was considered an honour

for their request to be chosen,

a life-changing moment that

reshaped all expectations and prospects.

We would share their stories,

compare our successful cases,

note any unique solutions

and brag our personal touches.

It used to be pure-hearted maidens

longing for a happy ending,

a kinder world they could thrive in

rather than just benefit from.

Their prays and wishes made

life better for more than just them.

They just wanted one wish,

one chance, to prove themselves,

and the rest they did alone.

Not anymore.

I had spent countless years perfecting my entrance,

adjusting when glitter was too conspicuous.

It tended to linger on clothing, hair,

or even on the ground, becoming a

signature sign of a Fairy Godmother’s involvement.

A meeting had been called when a client

was killed mid-contact, her step-mother

pushing her down a long flight of stone stairs

when she noticed the sparkling evidence

in her blonde locks.

New rules were created, their upkeep

strict with the threat of our wings being stripped

if any were broken.

The days of flashy entrances,

magical displays and breathtaking transformations

were over.

My once splendid gown was now

a covert brown, blending with the

often-humble settings I was summoned to.

I’d arrived with a small poof of smoke,

buzzing around at the size of a fly.

The room wasn’t the usual typically bare,

with only the essentials present.

This one had a bed, a window,

even an old dressing table covered in fabric

with a manikin in the corner,

a half-finished dress pinned to its surface.

My new client was asleep in the bed,

lightly snoring as the moon illuminated her beauty.

They were always beautiful.

I’d once asked why we never answered

the prays of plain or unattractive girls,

perhaps even some men,

but was only given a tight smile

and told my concerns had been ‘noted’.

This girl was dark and tan,

hair wavy and skin smooth.

Her repeated pray had been a vague help me

and so I wondered what it was she longed for.

Freedom? Love? Confidence?

Hopefully not a Prince,

there weren’t many eligible ones left.

With another poof I became human-sized

and knelt by the bed,

kind smile adjusted for business hours

as I began my trademark opening:

‘Have no fear, wipe your tears,

your Fairy Godmother has appeared,

no matter your woes or circumstance,

the path to happiness will be cleared.’

The snoring ceased and her eyes opened,

frowning in sleep-induced confusion.

I waited, watching as she awoke,

hoping for a joyful greeting,

but was rewarded an irritated grunt

as she sat up, glaring.

‘It’s about time. Three months?

What kind of service is this?’

I stayed silent, once it had been from shock,

but this response was more common now,

and silence, I’d learnt, was the best route.

The girl groaned in frustration

and after a few minutes of nervous shuffling

she stilled and looked at me directly.

‘I need your help.

I need you to take away my baby.’

This is based on the Scottish folk tale Thomas the Rhymer, but I’ve changed it to a modern day setting.

Again, this is the first draft, I’ve post the polished version later.

True Thomas

Gather around, rejoice good folks!

I’ve come to entertain,

in this strange place with these creatures

whose sight causes me pain.

Rabbit café? How…quaint, how odd,

they are so much like hares.

Who used to bode the end of days…

but clearly, no one cares.

That one is staring, nose twitching,

ears perked and alert.

It knows that I can prophesise

and predict future hurt.

Oh? Now I have your attention.

Mad? I promise you I’m not,

would you like to hear my tale now?

Perhaps I’ll change that thought.

Back when I was young and foolish,

I was bunking off of school.

Shocking, I know, seeing me now,

but I used to be cool.

At a park, I hid in the woods,

dosing under a tree.

A beautiful woman came by,

on a horse, towards me.

It was a pure white mare she rode,

unbridled and bare back,

trust and loyalty did they share,

nulling need for horse tack.

I assumed she was in roleplay,

her clothes so old-fashioned,

with a silk dress, grass green, and long,

her cloak tightly fastened.

Her hair, naturally wavy blonde,

eyes piercing blue and cold,

her presence was strong and noble,

her authority bold.

‘You,’ she commanded down to me,

looking less than impressed,

‘I need to find an adult man,

which way do you suggest?’

‘Oh, did you lose your cosplay group?’

I chuckled with a wink,

‘Maybe it’s better you stay here,

nerds in costumes stink.’

She looked young, no more than twenty,

only four years older,

the thought of being her toy boy

quelled my misbehaviour.

‘Apologies, queen of heaven,

can I be of service?’

I produced a dramatic bow,

acting cute and nervous.

She sighed and rolled her eyes at me

but couldn’t hide a smile,

perhaps I’d get a date from this,

make my effort worthwhile.

‘Heaven? No, I’m not that holy.

I am queen of Elfland.

Would you like to come and visit?

Then you might understand.’

Role playing groups? I found them lame,

but to her I said yes.

I’d put up with a bunch of nerds

to get under her dress.

She bade me mount onto her horse,

behind her, naturally,

with no stirrups this proved awkward,

losing my dignity.

I clung to her as we set off

closing my eyes for strength,

motion sickness always gripped me

on journeys, even short lengthened.

Because of this I missed the route

that led to the three paths,

with a spinning head I climbed down

hearing the lady laugh.

‘Come, you’ll need a stronger stomach

to travel down this road.

Let me explain the choices here,

that much I feel is owed.

‘See the narrow path to the left,

bushes and thorns it swells?

Justify your moral actions;

it is the path to hell.

‘That broad road far to the right,

hidden for discretion,

that leads to lands of wickedness,

but some call it heaven.’

I guessed she was an atheist

from this harsh description.

I wondered how long she’d rehearsed

these lines of fanfiction.

‘Now, see the straight and clear road,

not overgrown or bland,

a perfect riding track we have

to take us to Elfland.’

By this time it was getting dark,

with no clue where we were,

I had to choose whether to leave

or keep following her.

We didn’t climb back on the horse

but watched it trot ahead.

Arriving at some apple trees,

to one the lady led.

‘I bestow this gift onto you,

eat up now, don’t be shy.

Once this fruit enters your system

you’ll never again lie.’

It sounded like an awful perk,

but still I played along.

I hadn’t eaten since breakfast,

what really could go wrong?

I didn’t notice right away,

I was given a curse,

from that day I was True Thomas

and I would talk in verse.

I entered her land of wonder,

and seven years soon passed.

I cannot speak of what I saw,

those words would be my last.

I have returned to mortal lands

able to see your doom.

If you’d take me seriously

I could help your world bloom.

I foretold of the pandemic,

and the death of the prince.

I told you what Putin would do.

I have tried to convince!

Perhaps this one you’ll listen to,

and save yourselves from fall.

Please! Do what you can to prevent

the worse danger of all…

This fairy tale is from The Blue Fairy Book so is less well known. The twist I’ve added might not be as obvious for that reason, but hopefully it’s still enjoyable either way.

(This is also the first draft, I’ll post the more polished version soon)

The White Cat

My tale is not well known,

and what is known, is wrong.

It has been confused with others,

part of their lives slipped in to fit mine.

A mother who craved fruit from a forbidden garden,

evil fairies who bargained to gain a baby,

an isolated upbringing, away from any life,

followed by a chance meeting with a prince.

The fairies had a dragon eat him, they say,

and transformed me into a cat as punishment.

A castle of nobles joined me in my feline curse,

while servants were invisible, except for their hands.

The curse will be lifted by finding my dead lover’s double,

and winning his love.

My real tale is not so dramatic.

My parents owned six kingdoms

but died tragically at sea.

From a baby I was raised by my godmother,

who happened to be a fairy.

We lived in a palace of splenda,

located in a large forest, perfect

for hunting and adventurous visitors

to keep their curiosity quelled.

Shiny gemstones fascinated my young self,

so my godmother collected them and decorated.

The castle’s gold door was covered in carbuncles,

creating a pure glow, that guided

lost souls from the forest’s clutches.

The halls were paved with lapis-lazuli,

where I’d dance and spin in delight,

their glittering presence lighting happy memories.

My godmother loved and spoiled me,

encouraging me to pursue whatever I desired.

We travelled often and brought back souvenirs,

filling our palace with tales of far away.

The porcelain walls were in pastel shades

but she enchanted them to display

all the stories I’d ever read,

a sight different for every person who looked.

Guests were regular and welcome,

the regents of my kingdoms and other neighbouring rulers

visiting often to hunt and relax.

That’s how I met him.

Prince Jem was not a first son,

and so his responsibilities were not overwhelming.

While official balls were being held

we would slip away and dance in the hallway,

the deep blue of the lapis lazuli creating

an enchanted land only we belonged to.

He loved exploring, but not alone,

enjoying comradery and sharing stories.

No one opposed our love,

a wedding date was already being discussed.

But it was all taken away, because of a deer.

Jem loved to hunt, we all did,

and we joined a small party for the sport.

Within a few hours we’d found a target.

Jem’s arrow pierced its side and

he rushed over to claim his prize.

But the deer had not been fully dead

as he bent to start gutting his prey.

Its leg shot out and struck him in the head,

so they lay there together,

neither to rise again.

Everyone grieved for his death,

all the more because of its stupidity.

No great deed or quest did he perish on,

just a harmless creature, already doomed to die.

I kept one of its feet as a reminder,

attaching a chain of diamonds and

using it as a doorbell. Any who came to

visit had to pull it, a cautionary tale

of how fragile humans really are.

Three years passed and still I mourned,

while others began to move on.

My godmother worried that I would die

alone, unless she intervened.

She gathered together all the castle’s occupants

and explained the spell she could cast.

‘My daughter will never love another,

but Prince Jem’s soul, like everyone’s, is eternal,

he’ll be reborn to live again.

My daughter’s one lifetime won’t be

long enough for a chance to reunite.

With your consent I will turn you all to cats,

a creature with nine lives, nine chances,

to win Prince Jem’s love and end the spell.

If she fails, you’ll die as felines,

but still enjoy nine lifetimes first.

If she succeeds, she’ll be happy and human,

able to live the rest of her life by his side.’

Many agreed, while others left,

volunteers arriving to take their place.

To live long, enchanted lives sounded ideal

to those already happy.

The spell was cast, my body melting away

into a smaller, agile physique, elegant and proud.

My fur a pure white, matching my name,

my eyes an enticing green.

My tail proved a delightful addition,

balancing and climbing a new art, a perfection.

A reminder of my past and future

dangles on my arm.

A bracelet containing his portrait.

We linger here in purgatory,

enjoying it more than our previous lives,

except for the memory of what could be.

Nine lives, nine chances to win him back,

and keep him safe from harm.

I wait within the carbuncle coated door,

it beckons him here each time.

He’ll enter the hallway of glittering dreams

and say he loves me, he always did.

He won’t be a double, it will be his own soul,

and perhaps, maybe, he’ll even remember me, his own Pearl.

Handsome & the Hideous

XVIII

The anguish cry was beyond grief and pain,

a sound that signalled the end of all hope.

Jeremy sprinted into the west wing for the first

and last time, the confining castle walls

vibrating with the long, single howl.

The bedroom door was open but he

bumped against other invisible bodies.

The room was filled with frantic phantoms,

some around the bed, trying to revive

a dead man, pressing down on his chest or

forcing liquid through his slack lips.

Others were surrounding the mistress,

a mix of abuse and protectiveness.

One whacked her repeatedly with a broom,

the smack silent against the agonised cry still ringing.

A bowl of boiled water was thrown, trying to

drown out the endless wail of despair.

More threatening objects like cutlery knives and

fire pokers were hovering in the air, locked

in silent combat to prevent further harm to the mistress.

Suddenly the noise stopped, and the world

fell into stillness, silent and untouchable.

Jeremy felt the dream of flesh disappear,

the human world beyond the bubble they could

never pop. A love he could never claim.

But, perhaps, he could still save.

The suspected moment snapped into violence.

Deadly objects were no longer held back,

plunging into the mistress’s monstrous body.

Some turned on Handsome’s corpse,

stabbing in rage or beating with bare fists,

lost hope fueling the desire for desperate

release of…anything!

Like an infectious wave Jeremy saw it

consume her. She wrenched off her gloves,

backhanding a few invisible foes in the process.

She dug her claws through the fabric of her dress,

ripping a giant opening that her shamed body

emerged from. A different howl escaped her,

angry and wild. Huge hands targeted the wall,

nails digging in deep and cracking stone.

She kicked at the bed, wood splintering,

Her eyes were savage as they rested on

Handsome’s still form.

Jeremy left the room, knowing he could

no longer reach her.

There was no saving the west wing

from the household’s chaotic grief.

Two days of blind destruction left little intact.

Even Jeremy’s garden did not survive.

He had anticipated the ruin and saved the

edelweiss, storing them in portable pots

and hiding them in his own private underground storage.

It was a bunker he’d built to protect certain flowers from harsh winters,

never realising he’d use it for hiding.

He remained there, patient, until he heard

a sorrowful howl and the smell of burning.

He left his sanctuary, emerging into an area

once covered in flowers but was now sheltered with their remains.

It was night, the moon was full, but flames

from the castle tinged the view with smoke.

The whole building was burning, and his mistress

was by his hiding spot’s entrance, looking at the

silver globe and howling, hoping one last time.

He presented a precious edelweiss to her,

the heartbroken noise fading out as she noticed.

‘I’m glad I found you here,’ she spoke, voice weary,

as though even words were too hard now.

‘I’m sorry, I couldn’t make him love me.

I couldn’t break the curse.’

Jeremy tried placing the edelweiss in one of her hands,

and noticed the knife she held.

It was the same knife he’d taken from the village

fifty years ago, when he’d known he needed to intervene.

‘Please,’ she begged now, her gaze finding

his invisible one, still seeing him, like always.

‘Please save me.’

Like everyone else, he knew the curse by heart,

had seen it scribbled on the castle walls by

desperate souls trying to decipher it.

‘Only one who truly loves you will be able to harm you.’

He gently took the offered knife

and watched her knelt to the ground,

gaze never leaving his, gripping his edelweiss.

The blade had been lovingly cared for,

sharp and ready, but he knew he’d still need

force behind his movements.

‘I love you, always,’ he said.

The response in her eyes made it possible

to believe she’d heard him.

He was still saying it, sobbing,

as he forced the dagger into her heart.

A sharp intake of breath left her,

a relieved smile on her face.

He held her large body as best as he could

as the light faded from her eyes.

She didn’t change back into who she once was,

he preferred it that way.

He didn’t want to hold a dead stranger.

He widened the opening to his storage bunker,

dragging her body inside, so no one could harm it.

He knew they’d felt her death,

they’d all felt the moment their half-existence

became permanently eternal.

Any hope of breaking the curse dead with her.

But he’d do it again, always, to free her.

Outside their shelter the world continued to burn,

the castle a smouldering ruin,

his garden a trampled dream.

The forest was alit, ghostly apparitions

sparking flames as they left forever.

There was no reason to stay any longer.

When Jeremy emerged there was nothing left.

He spent years, lifetimes, finding materials

to built his mistress a worthy, final resting place.

A tomb fit for a queen,

with only an edelweiss carving

engraved on its surface.

Some say he remains there,

the tomb surrounded by a wondrous garden.

Some hope he left,

and found some peace at viewing

human life around him.

As for the others…

When a bump in the night scares you,

when a shiver runs down your spine,

when you feel the presence of the dead

know this is not imagined, it’s a sign.

They came from the land of dead whispers.

Undead, they are felt, but remain unseen.

Their fate determined, their curse can’t be broken,

because they could not save their kind, suffering queen.

Handsome & the Hideous

XVII

Many years passed this way, and at first

she resented the nightly activities he wanted,

but time made her understand him better

and to this wicked criminal she became bonded.

He in turn stopped flinching at her looks

and enjoyed the person who lay within.

He explained, in the past, he’d never found a female

who interested him for long, or could accept his acts of sin.

She accepted her name as Rose fully,

knowing her feelings had to be real for hope to exist.

Part of her would always love Jeremy more

but only friendship could be between them, they had to insist.

Handsome stopped longing for the outside world

and was happy living in their secluded sanctuary.

Whatever he desired the servants would find,

above all they longed to keep him merry.

After five years since he came to the castle

Rose tried to ask him an important question,

‘Do you love me? Could you?’

her uncertainty making it more of a suggestion.

Handsome considered her carefully, owing her the truth,

and could only shake his head.

‘I wish I could lie, but that wouldn’t break your curse.

If another female were here, I would rather have them in my bed.’

She accepted his honesty but didn’t stop her strategy,

hoping, one day, his feelings would change.

She had no other option to free her suffering people;

to break the curse, to this man she must remain chained.

Every year that passed, on the anniversary of their meeting,

she’d ask again, ‘Do you love me? Could you, one day?’

Sometimes he’d consider her seriously and give an honest no,

while other times he would tease, and hint that he may.

Her hope continued and bent her will to his.

Only once did Handsome consider leaving,

when his hair turned grey and wrinkles covered his face

he began to panic and began grieving.

‘Did I waste my life here? Could I have been more?

Has my name been forgotten or am I a villain in stories?

Should I have gone back and looked for redemption,

and attempted to gain some immortal glory?’

Fifty years since Handsome had arrived

his health and heart began to fail.

To his bed he was confined, unable to walk in the gardens,

his body had grown too frail.

Rose refused to leave his side,

her devotion and affections for him true.

He looked at her, smiled with peace,

saying, ‘I-’

And then he died.

Handsome & the Hideous

XVI

She’d tossed the hat and veil aside,

refusing to hide any longer.

All was laid bare now, suffering with endless

itching seemed a pointless torment.

She kept the dress and gloves on,

feeling long-forgotten emotions at her previous

nakedness: bashfulness and shame.

Despite Handsome’s reaction she was hopeful

when he ran to his room instead of the forest,

where he’d risk death to leave.

She retrieved the knife from the table and

made her way outside, but it was not the moon

who called to her tonight.

She stood by the flowerbeds with the knife

in plain view, a strange peace settling over her.

‘You gave him this, didn’t you?

So that he’d understand and stop plotting my death.’

A bouquet of tulips and edelweiss

floated towards her hands.

She dropped the knife to cradle it in both arms.

‘You really do love me, don’t you? Thank you.

I promise I’ll break the curse.

I’ll make him love me so I can set you free.’

She was patient, animal instincts quelled

and human rationality in control.

She let Handsome hide from her for a week

before the dinner dates began again.

Now, they were held in a smaller area,

an old drawing room once used for post-supper

drinks and the puffing of cigars.

Handsome seemed to appreciate both of these,

his intake of alcohol a daily need that she

tried to ignore, the smell of tobacco

his new signature scent.

She gave up her throne and crammed into the

same chair design he had, uncomfortable but willing.

She even ate instead of staring, though food did nothing for her.

‘I can’t leave,’ Handsome slurred. ‘I’m a criminal,

and will be hanged. But I can’t love you either, it’s impossible.’

‘Then let’s be friends and keep each other company.’

She said easily, undeterred by his answer.

There was plenty of time to change his mind.

Their slow friendship grew easier, now daylight

didn’t deter them from seeking each other out,

and soon they would stroll the gardens together.

Handsome would be oblivious to his surroundings

while she was always searching for another.

‘You like flowers, don’t you?’ Handsome observed

as she accepted a rose from an invisible hand.

‘They’re always giving you them out here.’

‘Yes,’ she smiled, sharing a secret glance with Jeremy.

‘I love them.’

‘Then that’s what I’ll call you,’ Handsome announced,

snatching the flower from her and holding it up in the air.

She suppressed a snarl. ‘Rose.’

Naming her seemed to give him a sense of power

and he became more confident, like he’d tamed her.

He talked of his past crimes with haughty gusto,

expecting no reprimand or opinion.

She kept her thoughts quiet, knowing the key

to his affection was to be docile.

As months passed he talked more of

his female conquests, lust in his eyes.

She saw him scanning her hidden body,

focusing on her breasts, her human-looking curves.

Memories of the sorcerer who’d cursed her

resurfaced, and she longed to strike him

for daring to view her as an object

instead of his better.

But instead she did nothing to resist when

he began leading her to his room at night,

fumbling over her body in the dark

and avoiding unnaturally hairy areas.

She prayed no one watched as she

finally submitted to the humiliating defeat

and let him part her legs,

making her long punishment seem pointless, all their suffering for nothing.

Handsome & the Hideous

XV

He let go of the knife, moving out of reach,

expecting retaliation with the creature’s last breath.

Instead, she looked at him, pulling out the weapon.

No blood flow followed, and no signs of death.

Her free hand reached up, removing her hat,

revealing the monstrous animal beneath.

She stabbed the knife into the table,

smiling at him and baring her teeth.

‘Are you satisfied now, is your bloodlust quenched?

Will you finally accept your new fate?

You cannot kill the beast of the castle

while your heart harbours such hate.’

‘But why won’t you die? What do you want?

What is the point of this charade?

Do you expect me to live here forever?

To hide in your shadow and have all your rules obeyed?

The creature sat back on her throne

and Handsome fought to contain his fright.

She closed her eyes, their lids flickering,

and in a hypnotic voice began to recite:

‘From this hurt you’ve caused through rejection

I curse you so I can reclaim my honour.

Your beautiful world will crumble around you

and your body will shift until you become a monster.

‘Those present tonight, in and around the castle,

will vanish, unheard and unseen by all.

Voiceless and invisible, they can’t break this curse,

but they will suffer with you through your fall.

‘Time will not age you, wounds won’t be felt.

Only one who truly loves you will be able to harm you.

Ages will pass, your kingdom will perish,

but still you will linger and suffer through.

‘This way you’ll remain,

the outside world forgetting this place,

and the curse can only be broken

if someone speaks “I love you” to that face.’

She opened her eyes and stared straight

at Handsome, emotions open and raw.

This scared him more than her hostility,

her viewing him with hope and awe.

‘Wait, you need me to love you?

You’re relying on me to set you free?’

At her hesitant nod he vigorously shook his head

and turned away to flee.

In his room he huddled and despaired,

his true situation he was beginning to conceive.

This curse meant he was trapped just like its victims.

He could not kill the creature, and he could not leave.