fairytale part 5

            Marrok’s hands clenched as the muffled shouts gnawed through his nerves. The breaking point of his frustration was nearing its limit when Pinocchio burst through the entrance, snow flurrying behind him. It was the first time that Marrok had ever seen any expression on the wooden man. Panic.

            “A woman in red is coming. Go!”

            Marrok floundered, unsure of where to turn. “Calith.” He gestured towards the door where the shouting abruptly came to a halt. Rumple’s bearded face poked out. Apparently he’d heard Pinocchio’s warning.

            “Rose get into the back,” he ordered, “take Marrok with you.”

            “Yes father.” Without hesitation, she grabbed him by the crook of his arm. Jerking Marrok away as though he were nothing but a rag doll, he could see Pinocchio returning to his post out in the cold.  

            “Where are we—“

            “Shh!” Rose yanked him into a miniaturized library, leaving the door just open enough so they could peek out and see the entrance. Marrok could see hems of a red cloak around black books. Pinocchio remained firmly in the way as Rumple rushed out to greet the unexpected guest.  Marrok shrunk further behind Rose. Would the wood man really be able to fight off an assassin of the king? All he ever did was sit out front.  

            “Let me in!” The woman’s voice made him shudder.

            Pinocchio didn’t respond but Rumple’s voice was pleasant and calm as he said, “My dear woman, I couldn’t imagine what we might have anything to offer you.”

            Marrok saw her boots trying to walk past the wood guard but Pinocchio didn’t budge an inch.

            “I won’t ask you again. Let me in!”

            Rumple must’ve gestured his welcome because the boots began stomping their way onto the stone floor. Clumps of half-melted snow fell to the ground.  

            “This way.” Rose said as she slipped over towards the bookshelves in the darkest corner of the room. As the sounds of the boots and the blonde’s shrill voice grew louder, Rose’s fingers scrambled to reach a book on the top shelf.

            “Which one?” Marrok asked. She pointed to a muted yellow volume slightly off center. A soft metallic click caught his attention when he shifted the book out of place. The entire wall moaned before cracking open the width of a hand. It was too dark for Marrok to see what was inside but he thought he saw something move.

“Hurry.”

            Marrok’s upper lip curled as he stepped into the dark passage. Something under his foot gave a loud squish. He made the mistake of reaching out for a nearby wall to give him something to hold to. Slime coated his hand. It smelled like rotten eggs and pus. Certain that he’d rather face a thousand assassins before remaining in that disgusting room, he tried to push his way out. Rose shoved him back.

            “Quiet!” She hissed. Marrok shook his hand to try and get the stuff off him, determined not to lose any of his lunch along the way.

Rose latched onto the handle on the back of the shelves, tugging it back into place. A mere sliver of light came in from the left side. She pressed herself up against the wall, eyes closed. Marrok could only just see her outline in the nearly black room. Unable to shake the sludge from his skin, he relented by wiping his hand off on his pant leg before joining Rose her at the door. The voices on the other side sounded like whispers.

            “If you tell me what you’re looking for,” Rumple said, “I might be able to help you find it.”

            The woman muttered something back that Marrok couldn’t hear but the tone held a threat. He glanced to Rose, wondering if she and her father would really protect him. He didn’t even think that he’d be able to blame them if they did turn him over. He was nothing but a stranger to them. A farmer boy. “Rose,” maybe he could convince them just to keep Calith safe, “Rose, I—”  

            “Shh!” she clamped a hand over his mouth.

            The voices grew louder and Marrok’s heartbeat pounded at his ears.

            When the woman spoke again, he could hear, “The king doesn’t like it when people leave his service, Stiltskin. Especially not when they take things from him.”

            “He threw Pinocchio away. I didn’t know it was a crime to clear out garbage.”

            “Are you sure that’s all you took when you left?”

            “Absolutely.”

            The floorboards creaked in the next room and Marrok could hear the click-tap of heeled boots. He stopped breathing altogether when he heard the boot falls stop. She was right in front of them. Her body blocked the last of the light making him blind.  

            Everything stopped.

            Marrok could hear the books on the other side of the wall being shuffled around. He felt his very heart begin to slow and Rose’s grip tightened so much he felt she’d pull his bottom jaw right off. Sweat dripped down his back and his head grew dizzy.

            “If you’re quite done looking through my things,” Rumple’s voice broke the void and Marrok felt his lungs fill again, “I need to get things ready before winter settles in. And I’m sure your King is missing your.”

            A scoff. “A pleasure as always, Stiltskin.”

            Rose’s grip on Marrok’s face loosened when the click-tap became too distant to hear. The tense muscles in his body all relaxed at once and he crumpled to the ground. He couldn’t even bring himself to care when something wet began to seep through his pants.

            “Is she gone?” Marrok asked.

            “I’m not sure. They’ll let us out when it’s safe again.”

            “Why did you come in with me?”

            “Someone had to make sure that you didn’t do anything stupid.” He thought he could see the outline of a smile.

            Rolling his eyes, Marrok got back on his feet, shaking off the rest of his nerves. A book shuffled the shelves before light flooded the small passage. Marrok sucked in the fresher air, eyes adjusting to the brightness.

fairy tale part 4

            Marrok rested his head on the oak table. The candles beside him sputtered. Even behind the thick oak door, he could hear Rumple and Calith shouting at each other. With an annoyed sigh, Marrok ran a finger along Ella’s soft pink ribbon. It was a plain strip of cloth. It even frayed around the edges and yet he felt a strong desire to keep it close. With a sigh, he tied in to the inside of his shirt.

            Marrok’s eyes wandered around the shop before stopping at the book shelves that were inlaid into the furthest stone walls. Taking the candle, he held it up to the titles of the leather bound volumes. Faded gold engravings barely stood out against the polished leather. His eyes narrowed as he leaned in closer, trying to read a few. Many of them bore symbols he couldn’t recognize so he picked the one that seemed the least aged.

            Pushing the trinkets aside on the nearby table, he flopped the book down. The pages were creased and worn around the edges but the text was sharp and clear. His fingers traced around the circular symbols and they reminded him of the patterned etchings in the lamp Ella had given them several days before. The symbols weaved into each other endlessly and Marrok moved in closer almost believing that he would be able to read it if he stared at it for long enough.

            A dull pain began to form in his forehead and he gave up, moving onto the elaborate drawings that filled the book. Pictures of men turning into animals, ghostly images of the dead, apples with the image of skulls and-

            Marrok stopped as he looked at the image of a lantern. It had to be the same one. Distracted from the book by the thoughts of the lantern, Marrok took his uncle’s bag and rifled through it. His hand brushed along the cool metal and glass before pulling it out. He blinked, unsure if it was the same lantern from before. Instead of the black glass and gold runes the metal framework was pure silver. The glass was clear as water and the now silver runes glowed, lighting up the dim room until it felt like shone like the sun on a harvesting day. Shaking his head, he stuck his hand back inside the bag to try and find the black lantern but his hand found nothing but clothing and old bread crumbs.

            Marrok turned the lantern over in his hands. It responded to his touch. The glow burned, forcing him to look away. He watched as the light spread as if it were a living being driving out the shadows.

            “Having fun?”

            Marrok jumped at the voice. The lantern slipped from his hands. It fell onto the stone floor with a soft thunk. He cringed at the sound, scooping it up to survey the damage. There was none. No cracks or dents or scrapes. The light dimmed to a jovial glow as Rose approached.

            “Do you approve? Father wanted to send the gold sword as a gift but I thought it would attract too much unwanted attention.”

            “It’s,” Marrok trailed off, looking for the right word, “interesting.”

            Rose took it from him, running her fingers along the symbols. “Would you like to know what it says?” she gestured to the opened page.

Marrok nodded, “Please.”

“It turns black when your enemies are nearby.” She sat down and tugged him over to sit beside her, “It helps to hide you. Silver means you’re safe.” She pointed to a specific line in the book, though it could’ve said anything, “The lantern will help shield you from unwanted eyes,” she laughed, “supposedly, anyways.”

            Enemies. The woman in the red cloak with golden hair. A woman he had never known or harmed. Crimson Order. The two words rang in his head like the bell toll summoning the dead. How far would he have to run before he was free of them?

 “Is everything here like this?” Marrok asked. A man made of wood, a sword that could slice through stone and now a magic lamp. “I mean, what is it that you do up here?”

            “My father’s training me to take his place as an alchemist. The things that you see here,” Rose said, gesturing around to the numerous shelves and tables. “are just part of his private collection.”

            Marrok blinked. “You make gold?” Traveling entertainers would often pass through his village, claiming to have magical abilities but their secrets were always mere tricks in the end.

             “My father does,” Rose looked away, seeming bothered by the question, “but not very often.”

            “Then why stay up here?” His thoughts began to drift back to the life of luxury he had once envisioned for himself. With women. Lots of women. His attention was called back when her slender fingers ran along a gold chain around her neck. A red stone dangled at the end. The light of the lantern didn’t reflect like it would with a ruby. If anything, the rock seemed to be dimming everything else around it as though taking in the light itself. Marrok wet his lips as he moved closer to the stone. A strong desire to take it boiled up within him.

            “We like our privacy.” Rose said. She stared at him before tucking the strange necklace down her shirt and shifting away. “Don’t you?”

             “Not really.” Marrok grinned. The desire broke as suddenly as it had come, “If I had an endless fortune, I’d be far, far away from here.”

            She rolled her eyes and glanced back to the other room where the two were still arguing like old widows who each declared their grandchild to be the best. Marrok couldn’t make out the words but the frustrated tone set his teeth on edge.

Fairy tale_ part 3 _edit

(I ended up changing a lot. But since I don't wnat to go back and edit the last document, here's simply the new version! Only the last 1,000 words of part three :) )

            Marrok shrugged off his uncle’s arm. He didn’t need protection. “Tell me what’s going on.” He stepped forward. Marrok could feel the eyes of everyone in the room glued to the back of his head but he didn’t care. “Well?”

The two men exchanged glances but remained silent. His uncle wouldn’t look him in the face and Rumple seemed to be waiting for someone else to speak first.

            “You’re—” Rumple started when Calith took a sudden step forward. Rumple sighed but continued anyways, “Your uncle and I had a pleasant chat earlier. About you, actually. What do you know about our most beloved king?”

            “Just the normal things.”

            “Enlighten me.”

            Marrok shifted under the man’s stare. It made him feel as though the very world itself would crack if he didn’t tell the truth.

            “He’s been on the throne for over twenty years. He has a daughter named Snow.” Marrok’s mind began to turn black under the man’s gaze and he struggled to piece together the scraps of news he’d heard over the years. “T-they say his wife’s mad and he keeps her locked in one of the dungeons.”

            “And?” Rumple’s voice was soft but Marrok felt an underlying threat that made his spine tingle.”

            Marrok glanced around the room, eyes falling on Ella. She was smirking. Her lips moved and he stared at the shapes they took. Border wars.

            “And he has treaties with two neighboring kingdoms but there are rumors he’s mounting an army to fight for more land to harvest food on.”

            Ella gave him a wink and Rumple gave an approving nod.

            “Not bad,” Rose said, “I didn’t think that news traveled to the farming province.”

            “We might not get a lot of information back at our farms,” Calith said, “but we’re still able to know what’s going on in the world around us.”

            Rose flinched at his harsh tone, “I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

            “He knows,” Rumple patted his daughter’s shoulder, “He’s just a being sensitive. He always gets grumpy and defensive when he thinks someone is looking down their nose at him. He was the same way even as a young boy.”

            Calith flushed, grumbling as he hobbled away to peruse some of the trinkets on the nearby table. 

            “It’s my turn to ask a few questions.” Marrok looked between the four of them, wondering which one would be able to give him the information he wanted. Calith never gave him a straight answer to anything, Rose seemed consumed with her books and experiments and Rumple’s cracked tooth grin made his spine shudder. Marrok’s eyes fell on Ella. “The woman in red back at Grimm Tavern. I don’t understand why everyone seemed so afraid of her.”

            Rumple opened his mouth to answer but Ella cut him off, “She’s an assassin.”

            “What?”

            “One of the King’s personally trained Crimson Order girls. It’s rare to see one of them outside the Capital. And people generally don’t like to talk about them.”

            “Aren’t trained killers supposed to be all secretive and wear black?”

            Rumple opened his mouth again but Ella continued, “They don’t always wear the cloaks. The red serves as a warning sign so that others won’t get in the way.”

            “And this woman was after me?”

            “Yes.”

            “Why?”

            “Because you look too much like the King.” Rumple said.

            “That’s it?!”

            “Not quite.” Rumple’s smile made Marrok’s stomach clench with nerves, “Do you know what the King did to his own brothers when they tried to challenge his right to rule the entire kingdom alone?”

            “He killed them.” It was the reason why no one ever dared to fight back against him. A man who would slaughter his own family was not someone who you wanted to anger. “What does that have to do with me?”

            “Because the youngest child, the old King’s bastard, was still in the mother’s womb at the time of the massacre. Rumors say she fled the castle with several members of the royal guard. None of them were ever heard of again. Some say that she died before giving birth. I think she lived.” Rumple glanced over to Calith before his smile grew. “And the King thinks so too.

He’s had six children killed for the same reason over the years. At least, those are the ones that I’ve heard about.”

            An uneasy silence permeated through the room. Marrok moved over to sit beside his uncle, tucking his hands into his lap. “They’ll kill me if they find me.”

            “Or worse,” Ella said.

            Rumple waved his hand in the air as if to dispel the gloomy atmosphere. “There’s no need to look as though you’ve already died, Master Marrok. They haven’t caught you yet and they’re not going to. Your uncle and I were talking earlier about what we can do to keep you from being found. I’d like to send you to a group of people called the Hanaar. They could smuggle you out through Gimcrack city.”

            “No!” Calith slammed his fist against the table and the arranged bottles shuddered, “They’ll use him as a figurehead to try and gain more supporters. The only thing that those idiots are good for is getting themselves killed.”

            “You don’t know everything that they’ve been doing these past few years.” Rumple closed the two distance and the men began bickering like two old widows arguing over which grandchild was the best.

            Rose rolled her eyes, stomping off to join Pinocchio who was monitoring her foaming experiment.

            Marrok attempted to listen in on the conversation but the two men kept the debate to harsh whispers and table thumping.

            “Come on,” Ella took him by the arm and pulled him towards the entrance of the shop. “It can’t be an easy thing to hear, people wanting you dead when you’ve done nothing wrong.”

            There was such a sympathetic sadness in her eyes that Marrok wondered if she knew what it felt like to know that someone wanted you dead.

            “I know that Stiltskin can appear to be mad but he knows everything about everything. Trust him and he’ll make sure you get through this. Having him as my ally has saved my life more than once.”

            “I’ll try my best,” Marrok smiled. Something about her made his entire body relax. He frowned when she looked away. He followed her gaze outside where small flurries of snow began to blanket the entry way. “Is something wrong?”

            “I’ve already stayed too long. Soon, the snow will have you trapped up here. I have to leave before that happens.”

            Marrok noticed her bag was in the corner behind her and she still wore the frayed traveling cloak. Despite the great annoying factor of her personality, she’d been rather decent to talk to these past couple days. He didn’t want her to leave.

“Why did you help-” he stopped just short of saying ‘me’ “-my uncle? If what you said about the woman is true, you risked your life for two strangers.”

            “It was just your uncle I helped?” She smiled but made no comment as for the rest.

            “Of course. I knew exactly what I was doing. But, why?”

            “I told you. I owe Stiltskin my life. I was merely repaying my debts.” 

            Marrok knew she was lying by the way she looked away. 

“If Calith ever needs help again, send this to the capital city,” From the bag behind her, she drew out a small strip of pink silk. Her fingers caressed along the fabric before she held it out, “I’ll find you. No matter what.”

            He frowned, looking it over in his fingers. It smelled like cinnamon. Tying it to the inside of his shirt so he wouldn’t lose it, he looked up to thank her. She was already gone.

First Draft of Quarantine Prologue

[the second book project I'm working on right now :) Sorry the posts have stopped but for my fairytale book, I want to rewrite a lot of it before getting feedback.]

They dressed us in black and stacked us three deep on metal carts. Masked doctors all in white flocked about the sterile room, peering over onto one another’s clipboards. My head swam in the suffocating heat. I tried to call for help but couldn’t move my lips to form the words. A sharp clack sounded somewhere above my head.

New York, London and Tokyo are repeating near zero populations.

A buzz-cut man dressed in combat boots and military grey loomed over me. Most of his face was covered by the same mask the doctors wore. His eyes held pity and when his gloved hands reached out to my own pock-marked ones, I thought he would save me.

So far, we have been able to keep ahead of the virus with a marginal number of casualties.

The man yanked the wedding band from my finger. Brushing the hair from my face, he checked my ears before moving on to the bodies below me. Muttered words to the doctors and he retreated to the muted browns of the side wall.

Every precaution is being taken. Everything that can be done is being done.

I struggled as the white ones wheeled me over to a latched metal door but only my shoulders obeyed. One of the doctors opened the gate and the added heat radiating from the chamber made the room feel like an oven. Sweat poured down my neck.

To ensure the best chance of survival, we are placing ourselves under quarantine

The military grey man returned with a wide broom. He disappeared into the chamber for a moment. Mounds of bone fragments and small bits of metal came sweeping out in front of him. I tried to scream as the cart wheeled towards the incinerator. A soft grunt and we were jerked off.

Let the record state that November 16^th, 2018 is quarantine day one.

We slid off the cart and soft moans echoed beneath me. I wasn’t the only one alive in that sweltering heat. A fine layer of the ‘ash’ clogged my throat but my lungs were too weak to cough. The door swung shut. A soft metallic click was all it took to plunge us into dark silence.

May God have mercy on our souls.