Unhappily Ever After: Fairy Tales With a Twist

by Anchor Group Publishing

  Dopey came lazily walking into the room and stopped dead when he saw Pesty. He tried to quietly back up, but Pesty spotted him. “Dopey! My favorite brother!” He clung to him like a magnet on metal. Dopey flailed his arms and gasped for air, until finally Pesty let him go. Bashful was the only one who had successfully managed to stay hidden.

  The room grew quiet as everyone continued to stare at Pesty. Doc, being the mature dwarf of the bunch, suggested that they make breakfast. Snow White agreed and she retreated to the backyard to collect some fresh eggs. Together, the family whipped up a delicious, homemade meal of eggs, bread, and sausage. Pesty offered to set the table, to which Snow White replied, “No, no. You’re our guest, Pesty. Let me do it.” The truth was that she didn’t want him touching her antique dishes.

  “Well, here, let me get the coffee then.” He grabbed the old-fashioned coffee kettle and started toward the table where everyone’s mugs had been set. It only took about three steps before Pesty lost his footing, sending the coffee kettle flying through the air. The top fell off and coffee came spilling out all over Snow White’s handmade dress.

  Her mouth opened wide as she stared in silent astonishment. Tears began to roll down her face. “You ruined my dress!” With anyone else, she would have been more patient, but her patience for Pesty had worn out long ago.

  “I’m so sorry!”

  She took in a deep breath. “Please, let’s just eat.”

  He felt awful and decided that he would make it up to Snow White after breakfast. Once they had finished eating and everyone had made it clear that they did not want his help cleaning up, Pesty wandered outside to Snow White’s garden.

  Beautiful white flowers had opened on the tomato plants, herbs were growing in bunches, and an array of vegetables had already started to sprout. This garden was undoubtedly Snow White’s pride and joy. Pesty took in a breath of fresh air and grabbed the metal pail. He walked down the narrow path that led to the creek in the woods. Cornflowers and chamomile plants were starting to fill in the patches of dirt that had been previously drowned out by the winter storms. The trickling sound of the creek grew louder until he finally reached the water’s edge. He dunked the metal pail into the babbling creek and then started back up the path.

  When he reached the cottage, he set down the full pail momentarily to catch his breath and then picked it back up. Just then, a tall woman and two midnight-black Rottweiler dogs came tiptoeing around the corner, scaring the living daylights out of Pesty. Startled, he tossed the pail in the air, splashing a bucket full of icy creek water all over Ophelia’s face. Her dogs began to bark and she quickly took off, not wanting to be caught by Snow White.

  “Wait!” Pesty yelled behind her, unaware of her ill-intent, but she was already gone. He began scolding himself, “I’m always ruining everything!” He felt even more awful than he had before, and now decided that he had to make up for accidently dousing Ophelia. However, first he had to finish what he had started, and he grabbed the pail to go collect more water.

  As Snow White wiped down the counter, she happened to look out the paned kitchen window to see Pesty carefully watering her garden. While the sight made her nervous, she couldn’t help feeling a little bit bad for having been so impatient with him. Unfortunately, even a nice deed like watering her garden couldn’t take back all of his past wrong-doings.

  Later that evening, Pesty devised a plan to make right what he had done to Ophelia. He had passed her house on his way to the cottage and noticed how unmaintained her front porch appeared to be. It was still early in spring, and there was undoubtedly a lot of rainy days left in the season. A couple of fresh coats of lacquer should do the trick, he thought to himself. When everyone had gone to sleep, Pesty snuck out of the cottage and went to work on Ophelia’s porch. It took nearly all night for him to finish. Once completed, he stepped back and took a look at his work. As the wet lacquer glimmered in the moonlight, Pesty was sure that Ophelia would appreciate the quality job he had done. That was until she showed up at Snow White’s door the next morning.

  “Who did this?!” Her face was fuming.

  Snow White and the other dwarves just stared at her in complete confusion.

  Pesty stepped forward. “I did, Ms. Ophelia.”

  “What on earth were you thinking? Look at what you’ve done!” She turned around to reveal her lacquer-covered back. “Do you know how slippery lacquer is? Especially when one’s unaware that their porch has been lacquered in the first place!”

  Pesty was sure that her head might explode as he watched her face turn from bright red to deep purple. “Please, Ms. Ophelia, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean —”

  She cut him off, “You are a fool!” And then she turned around and stomped all the way back to her house. The slamming of her front door could be heard all the way back at the cottage.

  Snow White started to laugh. “That’s what that wretched woman deserved.”

  Pesty did not understand Snow White’s comment, but he knew that he had to try one last time to make up for his wrong-doings to Ophelia. He thought all day about what he could do, and this time he was determined to not screw it up. He would get this one right. That afternoon he made a batch of peanut butter dog treats, placed them neatly on a decorative plate, and left them at Ophelia’s back door since the lacquer on the front porch was still wet. He knew that Ophelia loved her dogs like children, and he was sure that his act of kindness toward them would finally win her over.

  An hour later, there was a robust pound on the cottage door. Snow White got up to answer it.

  “That’s it!”

  “What’s it?”

  “You win! I can’t take you people anymore!”

  Snow White said nothing.

  “Curse the person in this house that left treats for my dogs!” Steam practically blew from her ears. “My poor Pookie is allergic to peanut butter and has been throwing up for the last hour! If I had only seen the plate sitting there when I let the dogs out …” She let out a growl. “I am so sick of you people! I’m sick of you and your gorgeous complexion,” she snarled at Snow White. “And I’m especially sick of you! You’re probably the one that left the treats, aren’t you?” She looked directly at Pesty. “Well, you’ll all be happy to hear that I’ve decided to move! I can’t take this scummy neighborhood anymore!” And with that, she marched back toward her home with no intention of ever seeing Snow White or the eight dwarves again.

  Snow White shut the door and turned to look at Pesty, who was certain he was about to be scolded. “You’re my hero!”

  Did she just say that? He couldn’t believe his ears.

  “Pesty, don’t you realize what you’ve done?”

  He shook his head.

  “You got that horrible woman to leave us alone forever!”

  “What I did was good?”

  “Yes, what you did was great! I’m so sorry for having treated you so poorly. I know now that you always meant well, I’ve just been acting too selfish to see it.” She looked around at the other dwarves. “All of us have.”

  All seven of them looked down at the ground and nodded, aware of how cruelly they’d treated Pesty. Yes, he was undoubtedly annoying, but they all knew that his heart was in the right place.

  Pesty’s frown grew into a smile that reached from ear to ear, and then quickly changed to a look of concern. His gaze shot nervously to the ground.

  “What’s wrong, Pesty?”

  “Well, I was wondering,” he hesitated, “would it be okay if I moved back home?”

  “Of course you can move back home. This is where you belong.”

  His head popped up and he wrapped his arms around Snow White. He had never been happier than in this moment. His family had finally accepted him for who he was.

  About the Author:

  Marissa Hartman lives in Northern California with her husband and her very opinionated cat. Reading series like The Boxcar Children as a young child is what started her fascination with storyte
lling, and it only grew from there. Every time she went to the movie theater, she would daydream about writing a heart stopping movie for the big screen, but as a shy kid she kept these dreams to herself. Finally, she gave into her need to write and started her first novel. When she’s not writing, she enjoys being outdoors, attempting to cook new recipes, and spending time with family and friends.

  If you enjoyed The Eighth Dwarf, be sure to check out Marissa’s romance novel, Death Grip.

  The Huntsman and I

  by Alicia Michaels

  What in God’s name could I have been thinking?

  Those words have become my mantra, a phrase I’ve muttered to myself at least once a day every day since I married Charming.

  I know what you’re thinking. Yes, my husband’s name is Charming and he is a prince. Real original, right? I suppose that when the queen gave birth to such a perfect specimen of a boy, soon to be a man, that she couldn’t resist. No one can resist him, which is why I ended up married to him. After all, he saved my life.

  I suppose that’s why I stay with him and silently endure his whining, complaining, and the laziness that is so a part of his personality. I mean, who says to the person that saved your life, ‘Sorry, but living with you is unbearable. Despite the fact that you are amazingly nice to look at, you’re pretty useless. I want a divorce’?

  Yeah, exactly.

  Still, my judgment could stand a little inspection. Okay, a lot of inspection. I guess I could blame it on the fact that I spent most of my young life shielded from the world. Innocence is endearing to some, but I found it to be more akin to wearing blinders. It wasn’t long after Charming swept in on his white horse and kissed me out of an enchanted sleep that the blinders came off. Of course by then he’d taken my life, my virginity, and my sanity.

  What was I left with? A husband who is a man child, a palace that has to be cleaned from top to bottom by yours truly because no one wants to work for said man child anymore, and two children who are becoming as spoiled and petulant as their father.

  It is only on days like today that I can escape and find some sort of peace. Charming has no idea that my trips into the forest surrounding the castle to go hunting aren’t really what I say they are. I mean, yes, I hunt and I’m quite good at it. It’s a skill I learned thanks to my only real friend in the world. I’ve gotten over the fact that he was once sent into these same woods to kill me. It’s not like he had a choice, and in the end he proved that he was a good man by dropping his axe and warning of me of the dangers to come.

  I just wished someone had warned me of the dangers of marriage and motherhood.

  Speaking of skills, my eye is suddenly drawn to movement in the trees. From the sheath at my back I retrieve a feathered arrow and raise it to the bow in my right hand. This is it, one of those moments I will cling to during the dreary days to come before I can sneak away from my family again. The smell of pine and earth surround me as I stalk across the soft forest floor, my brown cape trailing silently behind me as I catch sight of the buck grazing not one hundred yards away.

  He’s beautiful, and while I can appreciate that, I want even more to wear that supple pelt and mount those huge antlers over my fireplace. His meat will taste good once I dress it up and roast it.

  Just a bit closer, I think as I edge through the trees, my arm as tight as my bowstring as I take aim.

  A pair of hands grasping my waist jolted me just as I let the arrow fly. Of course it missed the buck, prompting a string of curses from me.

  The profanities faded as I turned to find my gaze locked with one as green as the forest around me. I went soft in his grasp and exhaled, long and slow, the sound full of both relief and longing.

  He was here; the reason I’d escaped my chaotic house, in search of the peace that only he could offer me. Smiling coyly, I took a step away from him, out of his firm grasp. He followed, a playful glint in those jade eyes as he stalked me.

  “That was quite rude of you, Huntsman,” I said, my voice a low whisper. I never wanted to ruin the quiet companionship we’d created here together. “Now my dinner has gotten away because of you.”

  The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled, his perfect teeth showing themselves through the light brown stubble scrubbing his jaws. The shoulder-length hair of the same color and his buckskin ensemble completed the rugged look that never ceased to set my heart pounding. He was so different from Charming, a real man and not just a good-looking substitute.

  “I am so sorry, my lady,” he said in that rough, raspy tone of his. “Perhaps you will allow me to repay you for my transgression. What payment does the lady require?”

  My back touched the trunk of a tree and I was trapped, his large arms coming up on either side of me. He bent down from his considerable height, his face inches from mine. The smell of musk and man mingled with the smell of leaves, grass, and outdoors. I tilted my head back so I could look him in the eye.

  “How about a kiss?”

  He readily obliged me and I fell into him, placing all of my burdens on him for the short time we’d be together. It was something he allowed me to do because only he knew how unhappy I truly was with my supposed happy ending. When we separated, his breathing had intensified and the familiar light of night was glowing in his eyes.

  “It’s been far too long since I last saw you,” he said, sweeping me off of my feet in one swift movement. “How long before you have to return?”

  I wrapped my arms around his neck, careful to keep hold of my bow as he tramped back the way he came, toward the little cottage he inhabited by himself.

  “I’ve only been out for half an hour. I could stay away at least an hour more before someone comes looking for me.”

  His smile widened as he followed the winding path through the trees. “Perfect.”

  I remained silent for the rest of our walk, allowing silent anticipation to swell as he crossed the threshold to the little cabin I wished with all my heart was my home.

  A warm fire crackled in the earth and the smell of burning wood filled my nostrils as he set me on my feet in the open living and kitchen area. I untied the strings of my cape and dropped it onto one of the armchairs facing the fire, allowing him to take my bow and sheath and stand them up by the door. Once he shed his buckskin jacket, he was across the space in the blink of an eye, lowering me to the animal skins spread across the floor. He came down beside me, his body facing mine, his hands tangling in my hair. I closed my eyes and pretended that we had longer than an hour together, and that somewhere a house that could hold this one inside of it ten times over wasn’t waiting for me, filled with people who neither loved nor appreciated me.

  I lost myself in the Huntsman’s arms.

  Hey, don’t judge me. Have I mentioned that my husband doesn’t even know how to dress himself?

  ***

  Case and point, he was being dressed when I walked into the door that afternoon. At this point in my day, I’d already had breakfast, done my morning chores, gone hunting, and conducted a clandestine affair behind my husband’s back. Charming looked as if he’d just rolled out of bed … after having had breakfast in it, of course. Our only remaining servant, whose job it was to care for Charming and cater to his whims, was fastening a pair of cufflinks to a very white, very ruffly, very feminine shirt, which hung open to reveal my husband’s stunning body. Too bad it was good for no more than lying around and doing nothing all day. I always wondered how he was blessed with such a chiseled figure when, as far as I could see, he didn’t do a minute of exercise on any given day. Good genes, I suppose.

  “Oh, Snow, there you are,” he said in that petulant, whiny voice that never ceased to grate on my nerves. He spared a two-second glance for me in the mirror—he could see me coming up behind him—before returning his adoring gaze back to the one person he loved most … himself. “The children have been crying about some such thing … I’ve no idea what’s wrong with them.”

  With a roll of my eyes, I removed my cl
oak and hung it on the wooden rack in the corner of the massive bedroom we shared.

  “Perhaps they are hungry,” I said from between clenched teeth. “They should be fed at least three times a day, you know.”

  Charming took a glance at his now empty breakfast tray and grinned. “Oh, right. You’ll see to it, won’t you, Snow?”

  What, are you late for a mirror sale somewhere?

  Charming kept them everywhere; in the bedroom, the bathroom, hallways. He just couldn’t get enough of looking at himself. At one time, I couldn’t get enough of it either. Those sharp blue eyes, pouty lips, and chiseled features had melted my heart when I first opened my eyes to find him leaning over me, his lips still puckered from true love’s first kiss. True love hadn’t taken long to fade as I’d realized that what Charming felt for me wasn’t really love at all. He wanted me because I was the only woman in the kingdom that matched him in beauty—at least that was what he’d told me once over dinner. The only person Charming loved was Charming.

  “Of course,” I snapped, reaching for the soiled apron I’d been wearing earlier as I mopped and scrubbed the kitchen and dining room. I was headed out of the door when Charming turned, his hands fumbling with the buttons on his shirt.

  “Egad, Snow, what the devil are you wearing? You look like a chimney sweep.”

  My jaw tightened to the snapping point as I turned to face him, my hands on my hips. I was two seconds away from telling him about the Huntsman who lived in the woods and quite liked my breeches, tunic, and boots and what they did for my figure, but I held my tongue. Charming could be petty and cruel when his pride was wounded.

  “I went hunting this morning,” I said, pushing a stray strand of hair out of my face. “Are we entertaining tonight?” It was the only time I dressed up.