Welcome to Gaia! :: ~~A Modern Day Damsel in Distress~~ [CLOSED]

Log In

Forgot your login?

Sign Up

Register
 
GST

DO YOU LIKE WAFFLES?

YEAH WE LIKE WAFFLES! 0.83333333333333 83.3% [ 50 ]
Huh...? 0.16666666666667 16.7% [ 10 ]
Total Votes: 60
Tags: modern  damsel  distress  short  story 
Export this topic to other sites using WildFire!
forum:75, topic:41937723
< 1 2 3 4 5 6
Bump. Two days left!
 
     

ORLY?
 
Author- xx PrincessWinter xx
Word Count- 947
Title- CindaYuri
Fairy Tale- Cindarella


I entered this in another contest already but I feel like it works for this prompt especially while California and Massuchussetts(however you spell that state!) have just legalized gay marriage.


heart CindaYuri heart



Jolin was born into a terrible family. Okay, maybe it was a “normal” family but it wasn’t ideal. You see Jolin was born into a capitalist, rude, egocentric, and homophobic family. Her father was the pastor of the largest church in the village and one day he passed away. After his passing, she was left in the care of her stepmother. As cliché as it sounds her stepmother wasn’t the nicest women and she didn’t have the nicest daughters either. Her daughters were constantly dating very rich and popular boys and she simply loved it. Her stepmother always said that if you marry a nice respectable man then a great and wealthy future is in store for you. Jolin never dated. This was mostly because she was convinced all men were pigs. The fact that she didn’t date disgusted her stepmother so she gave Jolin a very, very cold shoulder. Jolin’s stepmother made sure Jolin never left the house unless it was for a date and it never was. Jolin was charged with the duties of housework and servitude and she was sick of it.

So one day, when Jolin was looking through the mail she saw a letter sent over directly from the imperial palace. Knowing her stepmother would crucify her if she opened the letter, she took it directly to her. Upon receiving the letter and reading it her stepmother’s eyes widened with surprise and excitement.

“What is it, mother?” One of her sisters asked.

“It’s an invitation to a ball in the imperial palace. It says the crown prince is in need of a suitor and every single lady is to attend.” Her stepmother read out loud. Her sisters squealed with joy knowing they’re gorgeous looks could seduce any man. Jolin just stood there, clearly uninterested in the details of the letter. “Jolin…” Her stepmother said with a maniacally happy tone. Jolin turned to face her stepmother. “You are single. You will attend this ball with your sisters.” Her stepmother said. Jolin stared in disbelief.

“Why? I’m not pretty like them, nor am I slutty like them.” Jolin said in anger. Her sisters stared back at her in resentful shock.

“Yes, well, the prince is known for his unpredictability and if I send all three of you it triples my chances of marrying into the imperial family.” Her stepmother said in a firm tone. Jolin didn’t argue. Arguing with her was completely useless.

It had been a week since the letter came and the imperial ball was tonight. Jolin was forced into glittery attire and was not in the slightest bit eager to go to a ball.

“Joe! Get in the car! It’s time to go!” Jolin’s sister called from the vehicle. Jolin just rolled her eyes and hopped into the car. Jolin stared out the window the entire ride thinking “Don’t I get a fairy godmother or something?” but that obviously wasn’t going to happen.
When they arrived at the palace, Jolin could see clearly that this was the biggest night of every teenage girl’s life. Just not hers. When they entered the ballroom she felt like a sardine stuffed in a can. There were so many preppy teases and shallow beauties filling the room it made Jolin terrifically out of place. The prince was somewhere in the middle of the room and there was no telling where that was. So Jolin just casually drifted to the corner of the room and leaned against the wall like an edgy drifter.

“Why aren’t you fighting the enormous mass of girls trying to get a glimpse of his highness?” A strange girl with uncontainable beauty asked, walking up to Jolin.

“Why aren’t you?” Jolin snapped sarcastically.

“I really don’t have that much of an attraction for my brother.” The girl replied. Jolin’s eyes widened after she realized who she was talking to.

“Princess…” Jolin said embarrassed. The girl shined a friendly smile

“Please don’t be so formal, I hate it.” The princess said leaning against the wall next to Jolin.
“So why aren’t you trying to win a dance with the prince.”

Jolin felt eerily comfortable around the princess. “I’m just not that into guys.” Jolin said without thinking about it first. Right after the words left her mouth, Jolin covered her mouth with her hand. The princesses’ eyes widened and then she began giggling.

“Me neither. “ The princess said with a grin before taking Jolin by the hand and pulling her out of the room. Jolin looked frightened and excited at the idea of being taking to an unknown location by the princess. After a few minutes of being dragged around the castle, the princess took Jolin into a lavish bedroom filled with luxurious furniture and lush decorations.

“Why are you...?” Jolin began to say before the princess tackled her to the bed and began kissing her. At first Jolin was shocked and scared. Girls kissing girls? It was something her late father would be disappointed at but Jolin seemed to enjoy it more than anything she’d ever felt before. The princesses’ soft luscious lips wrapped around hers, her tongue tickled the tip of Jolin’s, the world stopped for those brief moments to take place. “Wow…” Jolin said after the princesses’ lips left hers. The princess smiled and nodded.

Then the clock hit twelve.

“Wanna continue this another night?” The princess said with a smile.

Jolin nodded and giggled and then took off her left shoe and picked up and marker from the end table. She quickly scribbled something on it, handed it to the princess and then walked towards the door. “It’s got my number on it…” She said with a smile.
     
xx Princess Winter xx

It's spelled Massachussetts. biggrin I like your story.
 
     
Rowaan

Last night I stayed up playing poker with Tarot cards. I got a full house, and four people died.


Vixere fortes ante agamemnona.
http://bittersweetrowaan.deviantart.com
 
Author- My BlAcK sTaR sHiNe
Word Count- 803
Title- Almonds
Fairy Tale- Princess and the Pea

I clutched his hand tightly as we walked up the steps to the apartment. I stopped halfway up the second flight. "Derek, I'm not sure this is the best idea." I said, trying to stress the distress in my voice. "From what you've said, your mom is very picky about who you bring home, and well, I'm not the best girl ever either." I rambled, stalling.

Derek leaned down and kissed me before laughing and saying, "But, I love you and you're different from other girls."

I was different. Oddly different I decided, looking down at my knee socks that didn't match and the high tops that were marked up, unfortunately, these shoes were my only decent pair. I continued to climb the stairs as I looked over my appearance. I also wore a tore bright green long sleeve shirt over a black tank top and an orange pleated skirt. I still was boggled about what Derek saw in me exactly.

"Mom, she can be tough, but, once she see's how beautiful you are and how talented you are at cooking, she'll be almost as madly in love with you as I am."

I sighed, hoping he was right. We had finally reached the door. Apartment number 529. Derek knocked briskly and waited, bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement.

"Derek!!" Mrs. Garrett called as the door swung open. "Baby!!" She attacked him with smoochy kisses on the cheeks that left sticky lipstick behind. "It's been too long!"

"I know mom. We'll visit more often. I promise." He laughed at himself as if he had just told the funniest joke on earth. "Mom, this is Emmaleigh." He pulled away from his mother to grab me around the waist and pull me in tight.

I stuck out my hand in a friendly gesture and said. "It's so wonderful to finally meet you!" Mrs. Garrett stared at my hand a moment like it was going to bite her and give her rabies.

"Well." Was all she said, she looked over me with one eyebrow raised then gave Derek a weird forced grin. "Come in, come in." She turned and left quickly into the very modern, dully painted apartment of hers.

Derek squeezed my hand and I walked into the devils lair.


********************************


"Emmaleigh has almost completed her Masters degree in culinary arts." Derek said, trying desperately to make small talk at the quiet table.

"Oh really?" Mrs. Garrett said, her interest’s peaked.

"Yes," I said, putting a hand over my mouth to keep from showing the Potato salad I was eating. "I graduate at the end of the semester."

"I guess we'll have to see." She said to me.

"Mom!" Derek said, half in my defense, half in his own. He added a laugh to lighten the mood. "Emmaleigh is an amazing cook!"

"Again, we'll see." Was all she said.

I gawked at her. How could she be so bold to say that to me? I contained my anger well as I continued to chew.

DOOO DOOO DOO DA DA DOOO DOOO DOO DA DA

Derek jumped as his phone started buzzing in his pocket. He pulled it out and looked at the called ID. "Dang, it's the office. Sorry, I got to take this." He said apologetically as he scooted his chair away from the table. He walked into the other room, that’s when the fireworks started.

"You have no right to be with my son." She spat.

"W-What?!"

Mrs. Garrett sat forward and gave me a death glare. "Your lies may fool him, but I know better."

"I. I don't understand." I said, taken a back.

She huffed loudly and leaned back again. "You're not a real cook. If you were a real cook you would know the secret to this potato salad just by eating it."

Was she challenging me? I looked at her along time and it became so silent that we could here the other end of Derek's phone call.

"Fine." I said. "I love Derek. And if the only way I can prove that too you is to let you know the secret ingredient to a recipe I've never seen. Fine"

She stared at me, waiting for an answer to her impossible question.

My mind went blank as I uttered the only ingredient that would come to mind. "Almond extract."

Mrs. Garrets face went as blank as mine felt. "H..." She didn't form the question completely for awhile. "How?"

I grinned madly at her as Derek re-entered the room. "Sorry 'bout that ladies."

"It's alright." I said. "I was just thinking Derek." I looked at him and raised my left hand to grab his, the small golden band with three tiny diamonds sparkling off it looking brilliant. "It's about time to tell your mom the wonderful news."
     
B/@CK$T@R $#!N3

Shake it like a ninja turtle! Shake it like you just dont care! EYA!

Author- DarkWyvernwings
Word Count- 3600
Title- Big Fat Liar
Fairy Tale- King Thrushbeard


Lena sloshed sloppily from one table to the next at the bar. She had been drinking heavily as a result of last nights events.

It had begun with her father’s mid-life crisis. He had realized the only thing worth while he had given to the world had been her, his only daughter, and he began giving thousands of dollars to charity. Eventually her mother had told him if he continued at the rate he was donating he would be broke before he reached sixty five. With her effectively cutting off his first means of giving back to the world he turned to Lena. She had been a bit surprised as her parents set her up with a wealthy little whippet of a boy. He was far to skinny for her, and she was afraid she’d break him if she held him.

Next they had set her up with a large man, fat as a whale and almost as bald. She had walked in, seen him and walked right back out. The third man, a Ronald Waltrue they had set her up with was quite attractive and very well known and liked, a sort of real world Bruce Wayne if you will, without the batman by night. And as she had walked in though she had sat down and begun talking to him, quite enjoying herself, except every time he ate a bit of meat he would shove a piece the size of his fist in his mouth and continue to chew it with his mouth open, rolling his tongue grotesquely through it so that the little bits would roll out and down his face. Eventually she had walked out in him as well, afraid she’d barf if she saw anymore.

A forth man had been promised to her as soon as she had gotten home, a message on her answering machine had said as much. That is what had driven her out on this night, a few desperate calls to her friends had been made but she was still alone… and utterly wasted.

She didn’t really remember the events of the night, she remembered a man with black hair picking her up and turning her over as she barfed her guts out… she remembered riding in a car, getting sick at the flashing lights… she remembered sighing something, she wasn’t sure what… All the while her eyes rolled groggily and her body swung limply from the arms of another.


_____________

She woke up to find it late in the afternoon and a hangover was beating at her temples. She grimaced and rolled over to find she was not in her bed, and there was a man there next to her. She screamed and woke him up, to see that he was really most unattractive, fat and lardy, with great sausages for hands and fingers.

“Oh god, did I sleep with you?” She moaned clutching the blanket to her, to find she was still in her own cloths.

“No,” He chuckled, his voice at least was pleasing enough, deep baritone. “But I’m afraid you married me.” He laughed.

“What?!” She screamed and in the corner of her eye she did in fact catch the gleam of a small tarnished looking gold band on her finger. “I have to go! We-We’ll get a divorce in the morning.”

“I wouldn’t do that now little heiress, I’m sure your parents would be most upset at you loosing half their fortune.” He said blandly.

“Well the wedding, it must not have been legal!”

“We were in Vegas, you know it wasn’t far from your club, we went through a drive through and were married as such.” Again Lena moaned and held her head in her hands, the ugly little band hurting her face.

“Is there nothing I can do to change your mind?” She asked.

“On the contrary, I quite want a divorce, the money is most tempting, but I’m afraid it’s against my morals to do so without a reason. Lena groaned again and put her head in her hands.

“God…. What have I gotten myself into?” She moaned.

“A relationship.” The man said wit a grin. She moaned louder.

“Now as it is I won’t touch you little heiress, but I will need you to get a job. I’m afraid I can’t pay for your food by myself.” He said with a pudgy little grin.

“A job?” She asked, her head shot up from her hands and she looked at him with sheer disbelief. “What do you mean?”

“Well, normally a job requires you working hard and only getting minimum wage.” He chuckled.

“What kind of job?” She asked horrified.

“I think somewhere in your college days you might have actually gotten the right credits to be a secretary. Or at least, that’s what the news said.”

“I’ve never worked before!” She whined.

“Well, I suggest you start, because if you can’t make ends meat, we’ll have to get that divorce. I’m sure that would amuse your parents, loosing half their fortune.” He grinned a bit.

“T-This is extortion!” She yelped scrambling for something, anything to keep her from having to comply with what the man said.

“This is actually marriage, but you have the right concept.” He grinned getting out of bed and starting to change. “I think there’s an opening at the company I work for. For secretary I mean.” He said lightly as she cringed away from him.

“I-I need to call my parents.” She muttered, holding her hand out to make a shield so she didn’t have to look at him.

“Ooh, that’ll be a fun story, can I listen on the other line. ‘Hey daddy, I got married… no… no… I don’t know some bum, look daddy can you get me out of this? He wants half the fortune. Click.’ Something like that?” He asked shoving a rather cheep looking black dress at her. She groaned and took it, looking at him skeptically.

“Honestly… Do I look like I would fit? It’s an ex’s.” He grumbled as she crawled out of bed, holding the dress up to her. It was too big, but not by as much as she would have thought. She looked up to ask him where the bathroom was just as he closed the door. With a quick scan around the room she hastily changed into it and put on her shoes before following him out.

“I’m going to need to go get some of my clothes.” She said softly, rubbing her arms in an old nervous habit.

“Well, we can stop by after work.” He nodded. “Please don’t grab anything too lewd, you’re married now.” He added as he grabbed the keys from the table and put them in his pocket. “You want eggs here or should we grab something at a drive-thru?” He added looking around the slovenly little living room and kitchen.

It dawned on her then that it wasn’t a house at all but an apartment, much smaller than any she’d ever been in. It must have only had maybe 3 rooms; a bedroom, a bathroom and the living room/ kitchen. Once more she rubbed her arms nervously and shook her head.

“Just a smoothie or something at a drive-thru,” she said softly, unsure of how to act now that she had settled into her fate. A depressing glimmer of ‘hope’ struck her that maybe with two incomes they could afford to actually buy a house, or a trailer.

She trailed out behind him down the surprisingly nice looking hall to an elevator, much to her surprise. There was a man inside it that took a look at the man and nodded, pressing a button to the ground floor.

“Good morning Mr. Jamison.” He said smartly. “And madam.”

“That’s Mrs. Jamison, Ronald.” He corrected. A sudden blush rose to her face, partly due to the fact she had been called ‘Mrs. Jamison’ but mostly because she still didn’t know the man’s name.

With a ding the elevator reached the ground floor and she trailed after the fat man, out the door and into the parking lot. Looking around she was impressed despite herself.

“Wow, these are absolutely lovely apartment buildings.” She said, and it was true, they looked like miniature mansions with lawns connecting them and a small stream running through the lawn, catching sprinkler water and little toy boats floated down them, children chasing them laughing.

“Mr. Waltrue is good to us.” He agreed. “I can apply to housing and see if there are any bigger apartments open now that you’ll be living with me.” He added as he got into the car, unlocking it. Lena’s head snapped back to the car, quite dull next to the impressive scenery, but still not a bad car she supposed and hurried around to the passenger seat hopping in awkwardly.

“I guess.” She said with still a bit of awe in his voice as he drove out of the complex. She turned her attention back to the road, trying to find out where they were and was surprised that they were still near where she lived. She even recognized the drive-thru they got her smoothie (and his large breakfast burger and hash browns) at. She was even more surprised at the building they pulled up to.

“Wow…” She gasped again, looking at the large office.

“I guess Mr. Waltrue is a bit of a show off.” Ron (she had asked his name between cautious sips of her smoothie) acknowledge walking into it and up to the desk. “Hey Cindy, I have a girl here who wants to apply for the secretary position to Joe.” He grinned leaning up against the desk. Cindy smiled bashfully and pulled out the papers handing them to him before looking up through her lashes again and back to the computer.

“Cute girl.” He grinned handing Lena the papers. “Job’s on the fifth floor, they’re pretty desperate so you’ll probably get it, but if not I’ll be working up on floor eight. Have someone page me and we’ll figure something out for you.” Lena nodded as they entered the elevator together.

“Morning Ron.” A man in the elevator smiled.

“Morning Jim.” He nodded back to the man. With a quite ‘ding’ the elevator shuttered to a stop at the fifth floor. Lena started to exit but felt a hand on her shoulder, she turned to see Ron smile and kiss her cheek. “Good luck Lena.” He said, with surprising earnestness and pulled his arm back as the elevator closed.

A bit shocked she moved half in a daze over to a man in the first cubical.

“Um… where do I apply?” She asked him.

“Go right to Joe, just nock first.” He said pointing to the door in the back of the floor. She nodded and started to walk away before she hesitated.

“Thank you.” She added, once more surprised, but this time at herself.

“No problem.” He muttered as he went back to work. She looked around nervously as she knocked on the door.

“In!” A deep voice growled. Lena opened the door and sat down.

“Resume?” She shook her head. “Papers?”

“I’m filling them out yet.” She murmured uncertainly, wishing beyond hope for a beer or something that would have loosened her up or made her less nervous. She’d never applied for a job before.
Joe snorted. “Whatever, here’s what I need.” He handed her a list. “Can you managed that?” He asked with a condescending tone. Lena looked it over and nodded.

“Yeah, think so.” She murmured.

“Good, then get to work.” He growled. “Fill out the papers first and then get down to business. If the list isn’t done by the end of the day, you get no pay and no job. Otherwise you’re hired and this is your first day. Go!” He growled. Lena yelped and clutched the paper to her chest, scurrying out the door to find only one desk, the closest, was available.

The work day seemed to fly by as she worked steadily on the list. However at about halfway through the day ended.

“Let me see where-” Joe snatched the papers from Lena and put them back on the desk. “That’ll do.” He grinned.

“Oh! But… I have more to do.” She whined. He laughed and took the papers.

“Get out now.” He growled. Lena yelped again and hurried out to the elevator. She stood outside it for a moment, uncertain as to what button to press. She was certain it must be the end of the work day, but did she go down to the ground floor to find Ron? Or up to his floor. In the end she didn’t have a choice as the elevator opened in front of her, Ron’s startled face staring back at hers. He held an arm out and gestured her in.

“How did it go?” He asked as the door closed behind her.

“I… Don’t know.” She murmured. “I think I’m hired.” She decided.

Ron laughed. “Sounds like Ron.” She nodded and leaned back against the wall of the elevator, mentally fatigued.

“This has been the longest day of my life.” She groaned her head in her hands. Ron nodded a bit and shook his head.

“Do you hate me yet?” He asked, concerned. She looked up at him confused. The door of the elevator opened and closed before she said anything.

“How can I hate you? It’s my fault really. This was bound to happen sometime, or… something worse. At least you’re not awful.” She grimaced. “I really am an awful drunk.”

Ron laughed a bit. “Yes you are,”

“Then why did you marry me? Were you as drunk as me?” She asked.

“No… I…” He stopped. “I was being awful.” He said with a grimace. “Thought I could take advantage of you, you know, make a quick buck.”

Lena grimaced with him. “Well, looks like we’re stuck at an impasse. You need my money and can’t take advantage of me, and I don’t hate you but need my money too…” She laughed a bit. “But only because if I loose it I end up worse off than you.” She opened the door. “We should go home.” She added.

“Yeah.” He muttered.


__________

Days passed quickly and soon a week had gone by, and inexplicably Lena found herself less and less resistant to the idea of being married to the man. In fact, she was almost happy about it. He was sweet and loving, and though not her normal standard of man, he was just about everything she could ask for in a man besides looks.

____________

Lena sighed as she finished her work for the day, setting it neatly aside. The load had been oddly easy and she was worried that maybe Joe was changing his mind and wanted another secretary after all. Still it was the first time she had finished early and she thought she’d pick Ron up for once. She grinned a bit at this telling Joe she was leaving. He grunted, which was just about all she’d ever gotten from him and left with a slight smile, feeling more than a little accomplished as she pressed 8 on the elevator. She waited with a grin on her face though; wondering what he would say.

He always praised her for doing little things well, things that normal people must do on an every day basis like doing the laundry correctly or cleaning the house just because she could. She thought at first he had been patronizing her, but it seemed he was actually very sincere in his praise, as if he understood just how new all of this was for her. The elevator dinged and she followed the, admittedly, much nicer halls down to where Ron had given her directions to.

“Is Ron here?” She asked the secretary with a smile.

“R-Ron? Um, I think you’re early.” She stuttered wide eyed.

“But sir how much longer are you going to go on like this.” A voice said from a door to the left, barely catching Lena’s attention accept for the stress in it, but to her surprise it was Ron’s voice that answered.

“Easy Matt, I’ll tell her soon, but, we both knew this wasn’t how it was suppose to be.”

“This is horribly inconvenient sir.” The other voice grumbled back to Ron as the door opened and a tall man with black curls walked out, ushering…

“You… You son of a b***h!” Lena screamed looking not at her Ron, but at Ronald Waltrue.

“Lena?” He asked, looking surprised and admittedly a bit pleased. She hesitated for a moment, staring at him wide eyed, tears welling up in her eyes. She spun around and ran back down the hall. “Lena!” He yelled. She shook her head tears slipping out of her eyes as she slammed into the elevator door, pounding the down button with a sob.

“Lena!” Another yell from Ron, as the door opened and she flung herself in, turning around to pound the close button.

An arm slammed through the slow closing doors making the elevator open back up. Lena took a deep breath. “Get out.” She said softly, a dark edge to her voice, “I don’t want to see you anymore.”

“Lena…” He stepped into the elevator.

Slap!

He backed out, a hand on his face covering the red mark, his mouth opened in a O as the door closed.

Lena slid to the floor of the elevator. Horrified. Sickened. Pissed. The floors lit up one by one, each one catching another emotion until the ground floor lit up with a ding. She stood up as the doors opened straightening her small brown dress and walking unsteadily out of the elevator.

“Lena? Are you ok?” Cindy asked standing up as Lena passed her. She shook her head but waved her away, her arms wrapped around herself, clutching her own biceps as if trying to hold herself together. Behind her a door slammed open.

She swung around and saw Ron barreling towards her out of breath. A low growl slipped out of her throat before she knew what it was, finding an exit between her snarling lips.

“Oh look, running really does do wonders. What did you loose? Fifty? A hundred pounds?” She snarled at him.

“Ok, I deserved that.” He panted, his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

“That? That? You think that’s all you deserve. If you thought that and a red mark are all you’re getting you’re sorely mistaken.” She growled.

“Lena…”

“What? Lena what? What was this? Some sick form of revenge for walking out on you? That’s… insane!” She screamed. Some small part in her head told her that the whole first floor had stopped moving, staring at her and Ron.

“Hey, this wasn’t the plan.” He growled trying to stand up straight now.

“Oh? And what was?” She screamed.

“I was just trying to teach you a lesson, it was you’re parents idea.” He growled.

“My…” She stopped.

“We needed money for a new branch and it was a quick way to get it.” He sighed. “It’s not like I’m proud of it.”

“So you married me?” She screeched. “I was…”

“I was trying to get out of it. I never actually lied.” He tried to condone his actions.

“You…” She stopped taking a small step towards him, and then another. “You…” She slapped the other side of his face. “I swear to god, I’m going to sue your scrawny tuxedo-ed rear from hear to your cheep labor factories in Bangkok!” She growled.

“I guess I deserve that too.” He said not looking up at her, but instead dropping down to his knees. She growled again and jerked his chin up so he would have to look her in the eye… but she stopped dead as his eyes caught hers. Those same gray eyes she had started to love looked so dead in his face, a bit of blood trailed down his left cheek where one of her nails had cut him and a bruise was forming on his right jaw. She dropped down next to him.

“You never lied?” She asked, the menace gone from her voice. His eyes sparked a bit.

“Of course not.”

“And your actions?”

“Well… horrendous.” His face started to gloom back over.

“I meant did you mean everything you said to me.” She growled jerking his chin a bit.

“Yes!” He groaned, wincing. Lena took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Alright then.” She said softly and looked at him again. Really looked at him. Yes he was her Ron. “And you promise that whatever you did to look like that, you’ll never pull again?” She asked.

“I don’t know why I’d need that body suite…” He drifted off and she patted his cheek looking at him meaningfully. “Right, I promise.” He muttered thoroughly chastised.

“Well if that’s settled.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply, grinning as his eyes lit up after a moment’s shock and he wrapped his arms around her as well. She pulled out for a second.

“What?” He gasped trying to kiss her again. She put a finger on his lips and frowned concerned.

“I think I’m gona be fired for this.” She said with a frown.
Ron threw back his head laughing, pulling her up with him and kissing her firmly before picking her up bridal style. “Well, it makes arranging a honeymoon that much easier.” He grinned.
 
     
 
Thank all of you that entered!

For those of you who haven't entered yet, I will be accepting entries through today!
     

ORLY?
I'm sorry. I'm not going to have time to finish my entry. My access to computers is limited at the moment. If you're interested in reading it, though, it'll be on my deviantart page in a couple of days. The link is in my siggy.
 
     
Rowaan

Last night I stayed up playing poker with Tarot cards. I got a full house, and four people died.


Vixere fortes ante agamemnona.
http://bittersweetrowaan.deviantart.com
 
Author- Jonni Mnemonic
Word Count- 3359
Title- Poppy
Fairy Tale- Rapunzel


They stared at each other for a while, the boy and the girl. Her bony fingers, already pale, turned chalk-white as they gripped the door handle. She looked frightened, almost trapped, as if he could be any sort of danger – this older teen around her age whose slumped shoulders spoke more of days spent in cramped, ash-stained apartments than the city streets outside.

“Excuse me,” she said finally, rolling her wheelchair back a few inches. Her voice was very soft. “I thought you were my grandmother.”

She was going to close the door on him. He would deserve it, of course. Although he hadn't been trying to listen to the old woman's knock, it was true that he did listen. His curiosity made sense – he had never seen the door open before – but his repetition of the knock, apparently a secret between them, had been no less dishonest as a result.

He struggled for something to say to stop her. Despite her frailty, the girl was beautiful “Please, wait. I didn't know that anybody lived here, but I heard some piano music playing, and ...” There was no real explanation, at least that he knew of: loneliness, perhaps, a need for some sort of change in this building full of identical apartments and identically miserable lives. “I just wanted to meet you.” He spread his palms out, a plea of sorts. “I'm Trent. I live a few stories down.”

Suspicion crossed her features. “How did you hear the music?”

Trent shrugged. “Sometimes I come up here. It's the top story, you know; I can look down on the street.” His answer sounded dumb even to him, as there were so many taller buildings even on this street, but it was the truth.

“Some view,” she said. Her sarcasm sounded more tired than mocking. “Look, Trent, I'm sorry ...”

“It's all right.” He rubbed his neck, suddenly too aware how awkward the situation was. What did he know of this strange, wide-eyed girl, and what did she know of him? “I'll leave.”

She looked relieved, but also, maybe, disappointed. “Thanks. I mean, I really am sorry. You understand?”

He nodded; he understood completely. If he had only thought about this some more before acting, he probably would have never gone up to her door. “I'm the one who should be apologizing. It was rude of me. I mean, you need time to get settled in here, without the neighbors barging up to you right and left.”

“Settled in?”

“Didn't you just move in?” He had assumed so, considering that he had never seen her around the building. Her grandmother, Ethel, yes, but she lived on another floor entirely.

She shook her head quickly, as if brushing off an unpleasant thought. “I've lived here awhile.”

“Oh.” It didn't make much sense – surely even if her wheelchair prevented much movement through the halls, they would have crossed paths sometime – but Trent didn't want to pry. With a nod of his own head, he stepped back. “Well, I'll see you around, then.” When she didn't say anything, just looked down at her hands, he started to walk away.

His progress toward the stairs was halted by her voice. “Come back tomorrow.” It sounded more like a question than a demand. “I mean, if you really do live here, you could do that. The same time. There aren't ... I mean, I don't ...” She seemed to give up on what she was trying to say. “It'd be nice. If you'd like.”

“Yeah.” He smiled at her. “Will I get to know your name, then?”

Cautiously, she had begun to smile back, but at this question, her face fell. “You don't want to.” After a last uncertain glance at Trent, she rolled her chair back and shut the door.

As he walked downstairs, he wondered what he had gotten himself into. So he had heard some beautiful piano music from a normally silent apartment, so he had watched old dame Ethel being invited into the same place. So he had met a lovely, odd girl. It seemed to belong to a story, or at least some other life – certainly not his. He opened the door to his place, noticed his mom's boyfriend's coat on the floor, and went straight to his room before anything could happen to make him disbelieve it.

* * *

The next day, when she opened the door, her face was tight with anxiety. It relaxed only slightly when she saw him. “Don't knock like that, like Grandmother, anymore,” she told him. “It frightened me ... if she had come by, and you came while she was here, there would be no end of trouble. She can't know you've met me.” She must have seen some tensing of Trent's own expression, for she added, “Don't worry. She doesn't hardly visit at this time of day.”

“Your grandmother decides who you can and can't meet?” It was blunt, but he was shocked.

The girl didn't so much as blink at his tone. “Yes. She's very religious,” she said, as if this explained it, “atonement and all that.” Silence reigned while he tried, and failed, to summon a response. “You can come in,” she finally said, rolling herself back from the doorway.

It was a small apartment, like all in that building, and yet sparsely furnished. The central room, which joined to the kitchen, held a single chair and table, with a few shelves on the walls holding a collection of books and papers. Some blandly pleasant photographs of natural landscapes adorned the otherwise barren walls. Even in the shadowed corner, a piano with yellowed keys and chipped wood stood out as.

Seeing it, Trent's eyes widened. “It was you. You were the one playing. God, that was wonderful – I had thought it was recorded.”

“I have time to practice.” She shrugged and looked at the ground. “But I will never be great. I don't have the energy.”

“If that was you I heard, you already are great.” He wondered what she meant about energy. Her tone hadn't sounded self-disparaging, but factual. Now that he stood beside, instead of facing, her, he could see something else extraordinary about the girl. Her hair, which lay rich and dark beside her porcelain complexion, was braided, and the braid stretched down almost to the floor. Of course, she was sitting, but still, if she stood, it might reach her thighs.

She grinned crookedly, as if unaccustomed to it. “You couldn't have heard much. But thanks.” With an awkward wave of her hand, she invited him to sit down. “I don't want to talk about myself, really. I get enough of that subject every day.”

Trent settled himself on the chair, which had faded fabric and an indent in the cushion. Ethel probably sat there on her visits, he realized, somewhat uncomfortably. “And if I said the same of myself?”

“I suppose we'd be at an impasse,” she said, the hint of a smile remaining on the corners of her lips. “And if I said that I've lived here, and places like it, for too long, that I'm a cripple, and that I'm best left an enigma?”

He raised his eyebrows. “I suppose I'd say that if you wanted to remain an enigma, you'd never have invited me over here.”

“Touché.” She tilted her head in mock bow. “But frankly I can't tell you much that you couldn't see for yourself. My world is ... limited.” She gestured vaguely to the confines of the stark white walls, the window blocked by heavy curtains. “I'd much rather hear about yours.”

Trent couldn't believe that she was being entirely truthful; nobody could live without having some story to tell. For the moment, however, he decided to oblige her. “You know my name,” he said. “You know where I live, and you probably can guess at the details: deadbeat dad, broken home, all that psychobabble that's just life around here. But I'm going to get out of this place if it kills me ...”

So they talked. She listened like very few people could, sincerely, as Trent told her about his family, his school, his upcoming graduation, all at her continued urging. Eventually, seeing his discomfort, she let the conversation be shifted in a less personal direction, and then she wanted to hear about different places he had seen, recent news – she knew little of the upcoming election – even pop culture. Trent noticed, glancing around the room, that the books on the shelf were all written at least one hundred years ago. The few CDs scattered on top of the piano were of classical pieces, and the newspapers he could see looked as if they had been creased and uncreased many times.

He didn't ask her about it; he wouldn't begrudge the girl her questions to him. Especially as each new bit of information seemed to invigorate her, to lend energy to her previously limpid frame. By the time she told him it would be best for him to go, he was beginning to feel lighter himself, somehow, and thought that perhaps her listening was more valuable than his answers were.

Neither of them knew quite how to say goodbye, it seemed, though they tried. She rolled beside him to the door, but paused once she placed her hand on the knob. “If, well, you'd like to come back,” she said, not looking at him, “knock like this –“ she rapped a few beats on her chair's handlebar, something from a concerto, Trent thought, “– so I'll know it's you. If you'd like.”

* * *

Of course, Trent came back. The day after, and the day after that day, and so on, always at the same time, always in the hopes of learning something more about the quiet, sickly, yet enchanting girl whose eyes scanned the walls of her room like a caged animal's might survey its bars. A week passed, and he never learned much concrete data, but he did realize, to only slight surprise, that he was beginning to depend on their meetings. Whenever some errand or another hassle of daily life kept him from her apartment for a day, he could hardly bear waiting for the next safe time.

They only spoke, but their odd conversations about long-dead authors and subway systems seemed to Trent somehow deeper, more personal, than so many ordinary relationships filled with meaningless chatter and half-intended lies. She smiled more easily each time he visited. She admitted, in an awkward attempt at nonchalance, that she missed him when he was gone.

One day, she hardly greeted him. Her face looked grave, and she held her hands clasped together. “Is something wrong?” he asked, worried.

She began to shake her head, then shrugged. “I guess. My name is Poppy.”

Trent didn't understand her apparent uneasiness. “Poppy,” he repeated. “I'm not going to laugh, if that's what you were worried about. It's a cute name.”

“Cute. Right.” Her tone was sharp, almost bitter. She unfolded her hands and brushed one's fingers over the spokes of her wheelchair.“I told you that my grandmother believes in atonement for sins. In this case, the sins of the mother.”

“I'm sorry, I don't –”

“Heroin comes from the opium poppy. My mom was an addict.” Her gaze, although turned in his direction, seemed focused on something far away. “After she got pregnant, she had promised that she would quit, but Ethel – her mother – caught her stealing money one night, to go buy more. Ethel told her that she needed to give it up. It was harming me in the womb; it would prevent her from being any kind of mother.” She laughed without humor, a harsh sound. “Well, she gave something up, at least.”

To be traded, then, for drugs. Of course, that wasn't quite accurate, but he could read enough of her expression to know that was how she saw it. He asked, stupidly, “Ethel named you?”

With a sigh, she rubbed her neck. “Named me, and raised me, and told me how to survive – how to shun anything that could hurt me, anything that could corrupt me. 'Corrupt,' that's not exactly her word. Tempt me, more like. Mom was a failure, in Grandmother's eyes, gone over to sin and Satan. She promised herself not to let the same thing happen to me.”

He thought of his own concealment from the woman, the girl's – Poppy's – questions about the world. “So that's why you're ... so hidden?”

“Except for doctor's visits, I haven't left this apartment since we moved here. A year ago.” Gesturing down at her chair, she added, “A weak heart. It was the heroin, you know.” She glanced at Trent and noted his stricken expression. “I'm not looking for your pity. I just thought that you should know – I'm not normal, and I'm not whole. I didn't think ... I ... you might not want to keep on ...” Until this point, her voice had been steady, tiredly accepting, but now it faltered.

“You thought I might not want to keep on visiting?” Trent asked. She nodded, eyes closed. “Poppy, I'd have thought you'd know me better, after all our talks.”

Her eyes opened. They shone with unshed tears. “You mean ...?”

“I would never give this up.” He walked over to her and, impulsively, took her hand in his.

Poppy gasped, winced, and almost pulled her hand away. With a slow exhale, she relaxed, settling her fingers between his. “Sorry,” she said, smiling in embarrassment. “I haven't ...” She shook her head. “Thanks.”

* * *

On the surface, not much changed in the weeks afterward. Sometimes they held hands, while speaking or silent. Trent was mindful of the courage it had taken Poppy to divulge her past to him, to let him touch her at all, and didn't push her from either angle. Yet there was a closeness between them that had not existed before, because she trusted him, because now their talks could be balanced.

During a natural pause in one conversation, Trent finally managed to ask what he had been wondering about since that day. “So, could you leave?” Too abrupt, of course, but he didn't know how else to pose the question.

She blinked, frowned. “What?”

“Leave this place. See the outside world.” He spread his hands out, encompassing the apartment.

Her hands tightened around the wheels. “No, I – I'm sick – I'm too weak.”

“I think you're stronger than you believe.” He leaned forward, his words coming in earnest. “I know that you can get easily tired, but as far as I've seen, you can certainly take care of yourself –”

An unreadable expression flickered across her face, and she glanced between him and the corners of the room. “But I can't! For all of my life ... I can't just leave, Trent.” Her tone had reverted to that of the same exhausted acceptance he had heard in it when she had spoken of her history.

“I was going to say, I'd come with you.”

Her silence was enough of an answer.

He had dreamed of her acceptance, but he had at least expected her to consider the idea. How could her fear be strong enough to keep her here, isolated from everything and everyone? Unable to bear it, he stood up. “Stockholm, is it?”

“Trent!” She seemed frozen in place, unable to move as he headed for the door.

His hand around the doorknob, Trent paused. He sighed. “I'm not going to leave you, Poppy. As much as I need to escape this building, I'm not going to leave you.” With that, he pushed open the door, stepped out into the hall, and shut it behind him. The walls were thin. He could hear her slight sobs behind the door, but he couldn't go back in, not just then, and she didn't come out after him.

Defeated, he slumped against the wall. If only she would open the door. He remembered their first meeting, how she had called him back. He would return the next day, of course, but as much as he cherished the time they had, he wanted more than that for her – he wanted her to be free.

As the sound of her tears faded, he realized that he loved her.

A melody began to play from the piano, something so sad and beautiful that Trent felt certain that Poppy had composed it herself, and he stayed outside for some time, listening.

* * *

The next day, he arrived at her door humbled, praying that she would want to see him. He could wait. He could help her however he could, sacrifice what he had to, just so she could one day escape. It was minutes before the doorknob turned, and he released a breath that he hadn't been aware of holding.

He only had a second to process that the woman opening the door was not young and chairbound, but old and stooped, before a jet of pepper spray hit him in the face.

Trent yelled in agony and rubbed furiously at his burning eyes. The pain was too severe even to think. After moments – minutes? – of torture, he realized that he was pressed against the far wall, and that Ethel was saying something. “That's for blinding my granddaughter to the Lord's path.”

Breathing hard, he managed to say, “We – did – nothing – wrong.”

“I found her crying yesterday, and you dare to say that?” Her voice wavered from age, but not uncertainty; she sounded utterly righteous, a champion for her granddaughter's eternal soul. “She didn't tell me, of course – you've already made a liar of her. But I've had my suspicions. And now I see that they were correct.”

At this news, he managed to get himself further under control. She hadn't told. “Where is she?” He tried to open his eyes, only to find it impossible. “You can't keep her imprisoned.”

The woman sniffed, then, satisfied, said, “She won't leave me, not in her condition. She's already moved into our new place. You'll never see her again; be sure of that.”

She shut the door, leaving him helpless and stricken. What could he do? For an insane moment he seriously considered forcing open the door, or perhaps the door of Ethel's apartment downstairs, and looking for Poppy. Threatening Ethel with blackmail, maybe – what she was doing to her granddaughter couldn't be legal. Still, he had asked Poppy to come away with him yesterday. She had said no. What right did he have to do any such thing?

Tears dripping from his eyes, perhaps not entirely from the pepper spray, he waited in vain to hear the sound of wheels rolling across a creaky floor, some music, her voice.

* * *

Their apartments were both vacated by the next morning, and Trent looked for Poppy the only way he knew how: calling other apartment buildings around the city, asking for Ethel Gruen. He told the receptionists that she was his great-aunt, but they still sounded suspicious, and they all denied that such a woman was living in those places. Poppy had once told him that she had spent at least the last eight years of her life in the city, but it was a large city, and who was to say that they couldn't have gone somewhere else entirely? Trent was crippled by the futility of his search, but he couldn't help but continue it. His plans of escape fell aside, unable to exist while he clung to the hope of finding her again.

Then, over a month later, came the knock at the door. The one she had given him.

She was alone, a duffel bag slung across the back of her chair, and she looked stronger than before – whether from the straightness of her back or the surety of her smile, he wasn't sure. There was so much to say, but somehow, he couldn't speak anything but her name. “Poppy.”

“Trent.” She reached out her hands. “Help me up?”

Taking his hands in hers, he carefully helped her to stand. Her legs, though shaky, could support her. Poppy shifted her arms encircle his shoulders, and together, both standing outside of the doorway, they kissed.
     
@ Rowaan: I definitely will be looking forward to that.

@ Jonni: Thanks for entering!
 
     

ORLY?
 
Sorry I've been taking so long to judge these, school's about to start for me, and I've just recently finished my summer reading project, and then there was back to school shopping, and my family has a bunch of birthdays around this time of year, so I've been really, really busy. I'm just now getting to read the stories. I'll have the winners by tomorrow hopefully!
     

ORLY?
< 1 2 3 4 5 6