The Twisted Fairy Tale Box Set

by Holly Hook

  He smiled.

  "Sounds good," he said. His voice cracked with emotion.

  He'd never had a real home before.

  And now I had a new one. I wondered if my father would ever come looking for me. At least he knew where he could find me.

  Nori waved us off the road and backed off of it. "It won't do to walk across that dark spot up ahead," she said. "That's not fit for royalty. It's not fit for anyone. Let me secure better transportation."

  Nori muttered words and a few squirrels ran out of the trees and stopped at her feet. It was the weirdest thing I'd even seen squirrels do. Nori made hand signals at them and they got in pairs, standing in formation.

  She pointed the wand at them and they turned black like Alric and Shorty had, then grew.

  Shorty cringed. "I know what that feels like," he said. "Being a frog was awful. And getting there was half the fun."

  The dark shapes grew larger and larger. Then I realized what was happening. They were turning into horses.

  A large lump rose from the road itself.

  It grew faster than the horses as if trying to catch up. The lump grew round and turned black as if trying to hide what was happening to it.

  I blinked, and on the other side of that stood a glittering carriage.

  Four silvery horses stood there, ready to pull it, and they were decked out in white feathers. The carriage itself was white with silver trim and metal stars attached to the sides. It was something straight out of a Disney movie.

  The door opened by itself, revealing an interior with white leather seats.

  Shorty and I grimaced at each other. We were both in dirty jeans. I still had a hole in mine. We didn't belong in there. All we'd accomplish was getting it dirty.

  "I know what you're thinking," Nori said, tapping the wand on her palm. She grinned. The woman was relaxing and a person she kept under wraps for official business was coming out. "Don't worry about it. I'm not Queen Annabella and I don't care if you get dirt in there. The two of you deserve a ride after what you've been through."

  I relaxed. She would not demand I wear a fancy dress, at least. That would come later. For me, and for Shorty. Well, he wouldn't have to wear a dress, but I imagined princes didn't have it much better.

  Or maybe it wouldn't be that bad, facing that.

  Shorty had faced way worse than I had and he'd survived. And I'd be there for him when the nightmares started. We'd suffer this together.

  The two of us climbed into the carriage. Shorty scooted closer.

  And I didn't mind. This wasn't Mr. Godfrey's class anymore. A wave of excitement rushed through me and I wondered what the Star Kingdom would look like. How Franco would take it once we got him there.

  I leaned closer to Shorty, and he smiled.

  Our lips brushed, I closed my eyes, and saw stars.

  It was magic. Warm, good magic. Shorty was full of it. He had just been too scared to let it rise to the surface until now.

  Nori climbed into the front seat of the carriage. "Let me know if you need to stop," she said, grabbing the reigns. "I haven't driven in a long time, but I think I can manage."

  "Thanks," I said. "I can't wait to see your kingdom."

  Nori smiled back at us. "Oh, it won't be mine forever," she said. "Someday, it will belong to Shorty. And you."

  Chapter Sixteen

  Two Weeks Later

  "Are you sure this will work?" Shorty asked.

  I drew closer to the pond where our adventure had started. I held the golden flute in both hands and put one finger over a hole, making sure I still knew how to use it. The moon rose higher, shining with the light of hope.

  I'd been practicing every day for the last two weeks at the Star Kingdom castle. I'd go out into the gardens, sitting among silvery tulips I had never seen the likes of in the other world. I rehearsed the song at night under the stars with the galaxy overhead. Shorty and I would sit in the gardens until it got late and we couldn't hold our eyes open anymore. The castle wasn't as huge as the one in the Fox Kingdom, but I didn't mind. Queen Nori never pressured me to wear dresses or go to balls. Shorty, either. In fact, I had put on my old jeans and T-shirt just for tonight so Franco's mind wouldn't explode any more than it had to when he got out of the water.

  "I think this will work," I said. "I don't want to wait another month to do this. But at least we have all night to make it happen."

  I walked closer. Mud spread out under my tennis shoes. Nori had fixed them for me, making them new again right along with my jeans, but I ruined that. The water remained still and calm despite the breeze making the leaves rustle around us. Fireflies blinked in green and even an occasional orange around us. I didn't feel threatened here even though I knew the dark spot was only a few hundred feet from us.

  I raised the flute, put my fingers over two of the holes, and played.

  A tone sounded through the air and I moved my fingers over another hole and blew again. The made-up song I had practiced flowed, and I played faster and faster while Shorty stood there, waiting for something to happen.

  And then the water parted.

  It was magical in the moonlight and much more beautiful than Alric's entrance had been. The water sparkled and opened like a pair of glassy curtains, revealing a shimmering bottom like liquid crystal.

  "It's working," Shorty said.

  And then a shape formed inside.

  A boy, with long messy hair and holey jeans.

  He rose through the barrier as if it were only an illusion. Franco smiled when he laid eyes on me. He reached out, and I grabbed his hand.

  "Welcome back," I said.

  Chapter One

  A light streaked across the night sky.

  I lifted my head from the windowsill to watch it sail through the stars. The golden line passed overhead with a faint whooshing sound, lit the tops of the trees in a brief magical glow, and arched down to vanish somewhere in the forest. Leaves rustled as it crashed through them and then silence fell back over the night.

  I remained still for a long time, waiting for something else to happen, but all remained dark. From my vantage point on top of my tower, I scanned the tops of the trees for any sign of the light, but it had vanished. It had fallen somewhere to the west. The only activity I spotted were the blinking green fireflies between the trees, oblivious that this had just happened. The cylinder of the old tower stretched out below, the last standout from rubble long since reclaimed by nature. My home was all that remained of a castle of an unknown size and age.

  And tonight, I hated that I was on top of it.

  “Mother,” I called to the darkness. “Mother—are you down there? Did you see that?”

  But there was no response. The crickets dared to sing again.

  “Mother?”

  She should have been back by now. She returned by dark after traveling to the market and back, the basket stuffed with supplies and food. Then I’d have the painful task of letting her back up.

  Those were the times I hated my hair.

  I grabbed onto my braids and pulled them into a pile, then set them up on the windowsill. It felt great to get the weight off the back of my head. I checked the ground. The night had fallen so deep I could barely make it out along with the grass and the purple flowers, now blue in the deep dusk. I spent my evenings watching how the setting sun made certain colors fade and others come to life. Many kinds of flowers spread out around the tower and filled our clearing, ranging from reds to yellows to violets. Blues were the last to fade every night.

  Mother was always back by time that happened.

  My stomach growled. Where was she? I hadn't eaten since last night when she realized we'd run out of bread and vegetables.

  Investigating that fallen star, perhaps.

  I sat up straighter and looked in the direction the sun had sank in. Only a bit of fire remained on the horizon. Darkness had collapsed, leaving no trace of the visitor. I checked the sky, hoping for another glimpse, but nothing. The famil
iar expanse of stars stretched overhead, forming a cloud of light I imagined went on forever.

  I always asked Mother what was up there.

  She always told me she didn’t know, and that curiosity was bad for me.

  But tonight, I couldn’t hold the feeling down.

  Mother was missing and something odd had landed.

  * * * * *

  When I was eight years old, I asked Mother if I could go with her to the market.

  “Please,” I begged, pacing around the round room of the tower. “I get so cooped up in here all the time. I get so bored!”

  “No, Rae,” Mother said. She held her basket close as if scared I would snatch it. “It is a big, dangerous world out there not fit for little girls. I bring you books and cards and playthings. Stay occupied with that.”

  “You always say that!” I tugged on the skirt of her black dress. “You always say it’s bad, but then you come home safe every single day. I want to go out, just once.”

  She leaned down and grabbed my arms. Sighed. “Rae,” she said, clutching my arms almost to pain. “You will not like it if you go out. You need to stay within safety. Besides, I need to braid you hair tonight. I never got the chance yesterday."

  “I hate safety. Just let me go. Just once. And why do you always want to braid my hair?”

  Mother released my arms, turned away, and did a lap around the tower. "Because I want to." Around our beds. Around our baskets and around our iron stove, which stood against the wall with soot I had forgotten to sweep up that morning. I feared she would notice and get out the switch, but Mother was too distracted. She stopped in front of the stove and put her hand on her chin.

  Her eyes seemed different today. Darker.

  “Can I go?” I asked. The morning beams of sun spilled in through the window, making the stone bricks sparkle.

  Mother muttered something.

  “Yes. You can go, just this one time.” Mother extracted a key from her pocket and went for the trapdoor, the one she didn't allow me to touch. I watched her undo the padlocks and for the first time, I got to see the ancient, crumbling stairs below that Mother said weren’t safe.

  “We have to climb down those?” I asked. The stone didn’t look sturdy.

  Mother smiled. “Yes. If you go with me, we have to use these stairs. Whose braids will I climb down?"

  A nervous feeling bloomed in my stomach. “I don’t want to go down those.”

  Mother put her hand on my back and pushed me forward. I bit in a scream. The stairs were steep. Narrow. The darkness inside the tower looked like the entrance to a scary cave with no bottom. If I fell, I might plunge into darkness forever.

  “Go!” Mother ordered. “This is what you wanted.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  She gave me a swat on the bottom. Tears of shame rose, and I took my first step.

  Then another.

  It was my job to lead the way.

  I hiccupped on the way down the stairs, trying to keep them quiet so Mother wouldn’t know. My eyes adjusted to the dark. Lines formed before me. The borders of the old bricks. Moss. I held onto the wall and the slippery stuff brushed my hand every few seconds. The air smelled of moisture. I had caught a whiff of this while holding my nose and ear to the trapdoor for hours in the past, but never this bad.

  “Hurry, Rae,” Mother ordered. Her impatience shoved me forward. I walked faster and loose stone slipped under my boots, but I kept my footing. I could do this. Letting Mother send me back to the top of the tower would show failure. I had dreamt of this ever since I had grown tall enough to look out the window.

  For the first time, I would touch the ground.

  I would walk on the grass and see what it felt like.

  The trees would tower over me. I’d smell the flowers that the bees buzzed around.

  There was a light down here.

  Not much, but it formed a border in the brick below and it looked like an arch. “What’s that?” I asked Mother.

  The fear dissipated. I could do this. The light might be the way out of here.

  “An old door,” Mother said. “Push it open when you reach the bottom.”

  I walked faster down the steps and another piece of stone slid. I went down on my bottom and pain spread up my back for a second, then vanished. “Sorry,” I said.

  “Get to the door and push it open,” Mother demanded.

  My feet hit dirt. The moist smell got stronger. Dizzy, I walked forward with my arms out, then ran into the door.

  The wood was old. Slippery. I bit in a cry and pushed.

  “Now, Rae.”

  The door came open and light assaulted my eyes.

  I had to squint as I took my first step out into the world. But when the light stopped hurting so much, I opened my eyes to a strange sight.

  The trees were so tall down here.

  And they made such huge shadows.

  Mother pushed me out of the bottom of the tower and I eyed the grass. I hadn’t imagined that the outside world would have such detail. Tiny white flowers grew between the blades and they looked like little stars. I leaned down to feel one.

  “Walk, Rae. We need to get to the market and back by time night falls. Night is dangerous.”

  Disappointed, I straightened up and grabbed Mother’s hand. I looked back at the tower. The wooden door hung wide open, leading to darkness. This was the side of my home I had never seen. My window looked out in the opposite direction.

  "Mother, don't you go west to the village?"

  Mother sighed, impatient. She remained silent, and we walked into the trees, along a narrow trail of dirt that I had never realized was there. Her auburn hair bobbed up and down as if angry I wanted to come along.

  “We are not going that way today. I’ve had word from the village that a group of bandits are waiting on that trail, ready to surprise anyone who ventures past. There is another, less traveled way to the village.”

  “Bandits?” I asked. Mother had told me about men who would rob you or even kill you for the things you had. They were everywhere in this world. In Fable.

  “Yes. Bandits,” she said. “If they catch us, we might both die. Do not let go of my hand.”

  I held Mother’s hand tight, checking behind the trunk of every tree for men who might hide there, holding knives. I had seen no men. Did they look like normal people?

  We walked for a long time down the trail which grew more narrow and less traveled. Bushes grew alongside the trail that had blackberries and raspberries growing on them. So this was where berries came from. Mother must have come this way to pick them on the days she told me she wouldn’t go far.

  But she didn’t stop. I reached out and grabbed a berry, then recoiled when something on the bush sliced at my hand. “Ouch!” A dotted line of blood appeared on the top of my hand and I brought the wound to my mouth, holding it there until the sting went away.

  “Those plants are dangerous,” Mother explained. “Would you like to come out here and pick those berries for me every day?”

  “No,” I said, hating that I agreed with her. Maybe she was right and I wouldn’t like the world.

  We passed more of the bushes, clusters and clusters of them. I kept my arms at my sides, grasping my yellow skirt instead. The cut on my hand had swollen shut. My long braid trailed behind me. Branches slapped at Mother as she pulled me deeper into the forest. I glanced back. Our tower rose above the trees, its brown roof worn with age. We were heading the same direction the sun liked to drift in each day now.

  And then I spotted something I didn't like.

  Darkness up ahead as if the forest itself grieved.

  The trees grew thicker up ahead and their leaves darker, almost black. The whole ground looked like a lake of shadow. Thorny bushes grew everywhere along the trail and murky water surrounded all the evil trees. The area of darkness stretched out and took up an area about five times the size of the room at the top of our tower. I had never imagined there was anything like t
his out here.

  In the trees, birds cawed. I hated the sound of these. They were harsher than the others I was used to.

  And then I realized with horror that the trail went right through the middle of this horrible thing. Mother pulled me closer and my throat went dry.

  "What's this?" I asked. My stomach got upset. It wasn't so much this strange area itself. It was something else.

  It was the thought that I was wrong to want to come out here.

  We stopped. "This is a dark spot," Mother explained, keeping a tight grip on my wrist. She sounded almost...happy. "They're all over the place these days and they keep growing bigger."

  I eyed it. "Isn't there a way around?"

  "Look," Mother said. "Where does the trail go?"

  She stared down at me, demanding an answer.

  "Through the dark spot," I said at last.

  "Then through there we go," she said, walking again.

  I dragged my feet into the strange, uneven ground. Mother smiled at me as I struggled and pulled harder. She was enjoying my fear. She wanted me to fear. Mother wasn't like this often. Something was wrong with her today.

  And then she pulled me over the threshold to the dark spot.

  Fear coiled in my belly like a snake. It lashed out, biting at me. I bit my lip. Mother was staring at me. I could sense her gaze, cutting like that berry bush.

  “See?” She asked me. “See? This is what the world is like. Do you want to explore more of it?”

  I said nothing. Shame burned in my eyes and I struggled to keep the tears back.

  “Answer me, Rae.”

  We stopped in the middle of the dark spot, right under a huge, gnarled tree that had a large hole in its trunk. The hole looked like the entrance to some underworld. Something scurried inside.

  “Answer me!”

  I wrestled my hand from her grip. I thought of the flowers we had passed. The springy grass. “Yes! I want to see parts that are better than this.”

  Mother’s mouth fell open, and she brushed her curls away from her face. “This is the world, Rae. Do you need to see closer?” Her gaze shifted towards the tree with the hole.