Fairy Tale Confessions, page 1
FAIRY TALE CONFESSIONS
Fairy Tale Confessions © 2015 Amber Leaf Publishing. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to a person, either living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. This book is an original publication of Amber Leaf Publishing. Please respect the hard work of the authors and purchase an authorized copy. You may not redistribute, share, sell, or store a copy of this digital book, either whole or in part, outside of the terms of the retailer and publisher you’ve purchased from.
Sarah J. Pepper, Tish Thawer, M. Clarke, Amy Daws, L.P. Dover, Elizabeth Montgomery, Shannon Morton, Brynn Myers, Wendy Owens, Cameo Renae, Kellie Sheridan, Jessica Sorensen, Kristen Strassel, K.R. Wilburn. Kindle Edition.
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Cover by Emma Michaels
FAIRY TALE CONFESSIONS
Fourteen bestselling authors twist up your favorite tales.
Will yours have a happily-ever-after?
Get ready to meet some sexy, not-so-valiant princes, punk-rock princesses, villains turned heroes, and truly vile monsters wreaking havoc within our favorite tales.
Read about Dancing Princesses getting their groove on in a disco club, a seriously sexy Rumpelstiltskin, and one alluring Puss-in-Boots, plus many, many more captivating characters in these fourteen all new short-stories.
(This collection and its authors are being featured at RT 2016 at the Fairy Tale Costume Party in Vegas, hosted by Sarah J. Pepper and Tish Thawer.)
Due to the graphic nature of some content, this collection is recommended for mature readers.
Most dearest reader,
For most of us, our love for the written word began with Once Upon a Time… Many associate happily-ever-after with prince charming, glass slippers, and that anticipated kiss at midnight. To be fair—who doesn’t love a charismatic lover, fashionable kicks, and staying out late? Whether it’s the villainous stepmother or the alluring huntsman, folklore and fantasy have been at the root of our imaginations for centuries.
But like roots of the world tree, fairy tales have grown, twisted, and turned into something that connects us all. From the Brothers Grimm and Hans Christian Andersen’s originals, to Disney’s ground-breaking remakes, fairy tales hold a special place in our hearts, now and then. But let’s face it...in this day and age we’re edgier and therefore we need our fairy tales to be, too.
We hope you enjoy our twisted, reimagined, and modern takes on these age-old tales. The stories you’ll find within are all new content and range from a romantic ode to the original, to a dark flipped-on-its-head horror story, providing a little something for everyone.
~ Sarah J. Pepper & Tish Thawer
Table of Contents
Contents:
Uncloaked by Wendy Owens
Blayze & Ash by Jessica Sorensen
The Little Mermaid by K.R. Wilburn
Dance with Me by Tish Thawer
Awakened by Kristen Strassel
Priceless by Sarah J. Pepper
The Snow Queen by Shannon Morton
Caged by L.P. Dover
Puss in Boots by Brynn Myers
Rell by Amy Daws
Casting Crowns and Other Curious Things by Elizabeth Montgomery
Hansel & Gretel by Cameo Renae
Real Boy by Kellie Sheridan
Jaclyn and the Beanstalk by M. Clarke
UNCLOAKED
A Reimagining of Little Red Riding Hood
by Wendy Owens
Today is my twenty-second birthday, and I’ve been dead for exactly twelve months. Technically, Grams calls me reborn, but let's be real, no heartbeat equals dead in most people’s books. My best friend from my living days was given a car by her dad on her twenty-first birthday. Mine… nothing nearly as cool. No, my old man abandoned me when I was little, and then, in case that wasn’t bad enough, he left me with the hunter’s curse.
Reborn? Please.
Being reborn would imply that I have a life, there’s nothing about my new existence that resembles any life I've ever imagined wanting to live. While my friends have been spending the last year partying at the Alpha Chi Omega sorority house, or getting their drinks paid for by hunky college guys at the local bars, I’ve been training. It’s not like I had high expectations of college life, even campus slut would have been better that what I got stuck with. Just as campus hottie, Kane Weathers took notice of me, I got the surprise of a lifetime. I found out I’m a hunter. Now getting too close to humans means an uncontrollable thirst to drink them dry. Draining your boyfriend of all his blood isn’t the best way to find a lasting relationship.
Day in and day out, it’s the same thing. A balanced diet of type A, B negative, or even the occasional treat of RH negative blood. I’m awake by early afternoon, though truth be told, most mornings I have trouble even falling asleep. Until the sun is down, it’s studying the history of the hunters with Grams: who we are, who our enemies are, and what makes us the chosen ones. As far as I can tell, all we’ve been chosen for is a miserable existence.
These so-called wolves we’ve been supposedly chosen to defend the world against seem to be nothing more than a long forgotten fairytale. I’ve never seen one except for in the books I’m forced to stare at for hours.
I guess it’s not all bad. At least that’s what Grams keeps telling me. Hunters can be in the sunlight for limited periods of time. The exposure is like a bitch of a sunburn for us. If you’re unfortunate enough to be bitten into the Society of Red Hoods, more commonly known as Vampires, as opposed to joining by birthright, UV rays are an instant ticket to ash city. I think if I were bitten in, I would have already offed myself permanently.
I run my fingers over the worn spine of the book in front of me. “Grams?” I call out to the empty cabin. There’s no answer. Some days I don’t see her at all. She’ll just leave a stack of books for me on the table. Today appears to be one of those days, not that I’m complaining. She can be a bit intense sometimes. We’ve never been close. I still wonder how I let my mom convince me to head out to the Big Wood and check in on her on my twenty-first birthday. Grams greeted me with a smile that day before locking me in a windowless room. She told me it would all make sense in the morning.
I’m still a little pissed about it all. Hell, I haven’t seen mom since, well, since I died. It’s not all by choice, though. Grams seems to think the safest place is under her thumb. All that changes today; today I get my first break. I get a small taste of freedom in the form of a visit to my mother. After a year, I’ve got control over my blood lust, not that mom wouldn’t deserve a good bite after conspiring to seclude me out here with Grams.
There’s at least one highlight to my day. He’s six feet, four inches tall, a jawline that could cut glass, and his name is Flint Huntsman. Not only is he my combat trainer, but he might well be the sexiest creature on the face of the earth. Of course, he’s a by the book kind of guy, so there’s never any funny business, but it’s still fun to watch him work up a sweat.
I jump when I hear a knock at the door. Pulling it open, I mentally prepare my taunts to Grams for forgetting her keys yet again. The door opens, my mouth opens, but the words never leave my throat.
Flint’s absinthe green eyes are staring back at me, that same intensity in them he always has and that I’m pretty sure I’ll never get used to. There’s only quiet between us. If I didn’t know Flint so well I would think those eyes were telling me he wanted to kiss me. I know better, even if my eyes are screaming for him to ‘take me already.’
Grabbing his arm, I pull him inside, pushing the door closed. I notice the skin on his arms turns white where I just touched him, a red glow surrounding each fingerprint. “Jesus, Flint,” I huff before rushing towards the sink. Dampening a cloth with cool water, I ask, “How long were you out there?”
He doesn’t answer me. “Where is she?”
“Who?” I inquire, placing the damp towel gently across his skin. “Grams?”
He nods, pulling uncomfortably away from my touch.
I shake my head, shrugging my shoulders. “Hell if I know. She’s probably avoiding me.”
“Why would she be avoiding you?” Flint has never seemed to grasp the complicated relationship Grams and I have.
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because I’m supposed to leave to see mom tonight.”
His tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth. The sound tells me he disapproves of me leaving as well. “She only wants to keep you safe,” he reminds me.
I toss the towel into his firm chest, flopping back into the high back dining room chair. “Yeah, everyone seems to know what’s best for me, except for me.”
“She’s been at—” he starts, but his eyes lock onto my glare, stopping him short.
“I don’t know where she is,” I say again.
“You think you’re ready for the smell?” he asks, and though I refuse to look into those piercing eyes, I can still feel them on me.
“I’m not going to eat my mom’s throat out if that’s what you’re worried about,” I growl.
&n
“What wolves?” I quickly snap. “And in case you didn’t notice, I’m still human.” A truth I’ve insisted on since I took my last breath. I may have grown an entirely new respiratory system, have no heartbeat, and can smell blood up to a mile away, but I was born a human. I’ll continue to identify myself as such until I cease to exist, even if they insist otherwise.
Flint shakes his head as if he’s trying to clear away what I just said, “Can we please not get into a debate today? I need to be in control of my senses if you plan to go through with this insanity.”
“Not you too,” I groan.
With swiftness I almost don’t see, he pulls a nearby wooden chair up to where I’m sitting. He’s close, so close I can feel the heat from his sunburn. He scoops my hand up into his and pulls it against his chest, then up to his lips. He doesn’t kiss it, only lets it hover in front of his lips. “I care about you.”
Ugh— talk about mixed messages, this guy is the king of them.
I swallow hard, take a deep breath and with the most bite I can muster, ask, “And?”
His guarded eyes lower, then lift again to meet mine. “I don’t know what I would do if something ever happened to you.”
Damn it! Do you want me or not?
“I’d never forgive myself. I’m responsible for you,” he continues.
And there it is. All duty, no feelings. I pull my hand from him, crossing my arms over my chest. “Well, let me ease your conscious; I’m the only one responsible for me.”
“Fair enough,” he nearly whispers, but I can tell that’s not what he’s thinking.
My face is hot, still embarrassed by the inappropriate secret thoughts that have been rushing through my mind about him. I shake a finger in his face. “I hope you don’t think for one second that you’re coming with me.”
“We’ve already decided this.” He stands, obviously panicked.
“You and Grams may have decided that, but I never agreed.” I remind him.
“It’s not the same as you remember—” he continues.
“It has only been a year, I doubt that much has changed,” I snap back.
“I’m not talking about the world; you’re the one that’s changed.”
I want to throw my fists into his chest and beat him wildly. I want to scream at the top of my lungs that I’m not a monster. I’m not going to lose control and kill everyone just because I’ve become a hunter. I want to scream that I’m not some freak, a bloodsucking vampire rearing to kill everyone, but I don’t because… because I know he’s right. Most of the time I toss and turn kept awake by the pangs of hunger. I don’t tell anyone about it, but I know they know.
“Forget it!” I shout.
“Calm down,” he pleads, reaching for me.
I pull away, “Stop! You can tell Grams she got her way, all right? I’m not going.”
“Ruby, please.” His fingertips graze my skin. A barely there touch, but I feel it to the tips of my toes.
I shake my head, my eyes narrowing, “Don’t!”
Before he can attempt another word, I dart into my small bedroom, closing the wooden door, clicking the lock to the right. He’s Flint Huntsman, if he wants to get through the door, a silly little lock won’t stop him, but I know he won’t try. It’s not him. It’s not who he is. He is who he is and, well, no matter how painful it is to admit, I am who I am. Maybe Grams and Flint are right, perhaps it’s time for me to start acting like the hunter I am and forget about my old life.
“Ruby! Hey Ruby, please can you open the door?” Flint’s voice cuts through the silent images racing through my mind, the memories of a life that seems so foreign now. My fingers curl into white knuckled fists at Flint’s persistent banging on the door. I leap up from the bed with a heavy and irritated sigh, rushing over to give him a piece of my mind.
Ripping open the door with such strength, surprising even myself, I bite my tongue as I narrow my gaze on his face. He stares back at me. My nose wrinkles involuntarily at him when I see the despair in his eyes. This isn’t about me being pissed; something else has him concerned. He rubs his hands over his face, his fingers dancing across the stubble on his chin. He looks like he never left last night. Flint is always freshly shaven. Grams would never have…
My thought trails off as I finally find my words. “Where’s Grams?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer me. I lift an eyebrow, curious what’s happened when I see him glance over his shoulder. I follow his eyes across the room, my breath catching in my throat when they settle on two unfamiliar faces. A petite redhead, with pale skin and a smattering of freckles, is standing in front of the door. My eyes travel over her quickly, though, as the other stranger’s presence is much more notable.
Her hair is as white as snow, contrasted by her full and bright red lips, but what is most mesmerizing is the subtle hints of flames flickering all around her, like an aura. I move past Flint, unable to look away from the creature in front of me. She watches me just as intensely. Snow White’s here to see me, I realize before wondering, why?
My body feels like it’s being bathed in ice, and I have to concentrate on just standing. Looking at the woman feels as if in one moment I'm cocooned in the comfort of my mother’s womb and the next as if I’m staring death in the face. My training runs through my mind. A hunter is always alert. A hunter is patient. A hunter observes, always searching for the upper hand.
She watches me as a hunter would, and suddenly I understand what it’s like to be the prey.
“Who are you?” My voice is shaking, damn it, I hate that. My throat tightens, the angst inside me squeezing the oxygen from my lungs. Sometimes I still forget I don’t need that air inside me. While breathing occurs, it’s not necessary anymore.
“Are you Ruby?” The red head asks, taking a couple steps forward.
“Who’s asking?” I press, annoyed.
“When’s the last time you saw your grandmother?” The red haired girl asks, again ignoring my question.
Flint is standing next to me now, but Snow White’s eyes don't shift from me.
“I already told you, she left yesterday, and we haven’t heard from her since,” he offers.
His response doesn’t seem to have any impact on the glowing stranger. Her eyes narrow further. I blink long and hard, assuming I must be losing my mind as I see a flicker of red dance around her irises. My skin, no longer icy, suddenly feels hot under the intense scrutiny of her gaze. Her skin is so pale it looks like porcelain. Her jaw is clenched so hard you can almost hear her teeth grinding, but there is no sign of life in her body. Not even a blink or the twitch of a random muscle. Inside my head, I can hear my voice screaming, demanding she stop her burning glare.
My knees are weak, and my legs wobble as if they’re turning to ash beneath me. I can’t speak or scream. A thumping sounds in my ears, but I know it can’t be my heartbeat, I don’t have one. Pressure mounts all around my head, crushing pain, pushing inwards. Why won’t you look away? A witch! You must be a witch!
I need to make the pain stop. There’s no thought in my mind except to make this moment end. I lunge forward my hand raised. Snow White may have chosen to remain silent to my multiple requests for her identity, but she won’t be able to ignore me as my hand swipes across her cheek. Will it burn? I wonder just before my hand makes contact with her skin.
My hand jerks back sharply, my wrist aches from the tight fingers wrapped around it. Snow White, she’s fast.
“Ruby!” Flint exclaims from behind me. You’d think he wouldn’t be surprised after a year of my impetuousness. Apparently that’s not the case.
The witch’s eyes are still locked on mine as I feel my body thrust backward. Floor. Pain. Ouch. A fog hangs around my head for a moment, before I see a hand in front of me. Following the long and lean limb up to the trunk it’s attached to, my eyes lock onto the redhead. Reluctantly, I take her hand and stand.
