Tag: Fairy tale

  • B Is For… Book Review – What Dreams May Come


    I’ve just finished reading a YA book by author Beth M. Honeycutt. I’m so glad my friend Rochelle Bradley introduced me because the story What Dreams May Come is very, very sweet. And Ms. Honeycutt is a professional editor, which makes this a very polished read.
    Ellie Cross, our young protagonist, has a frequent dream companion named Gabe. He visits her regularly, appearing as if on cue to commiserate over deep sorrows or share surprising joys. And she can spill her heart to him utterly since there’s no reason for regret or hesitation simply because Gabe isn’t real.
    After all, her mother even paid a therapist to help convince Ellie. So the shy, overlooked girl makes the best of the situation, enjoying this long-lasting companionship as a private sanctuary. If she must keep Gabe’s continued appearance secret from her mother, then so be it. At least someone accepts her without judgment or disappointment.
    I feel that Ellie, however bullied at school, could have easily come across as terribly unappreciative of the good in her life. I mean, things could be so much worse as the young lady herself comes to learn. However, Ms. Honeycutt does a lovely job of balancing over-reactive teenage angst with deep human pain.
    As for escapism, who wouldn’t want their own private guardian angel? And maybe, just maybe, they can take real human form. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?
    You can find various retailers with some very reasonable prices here:
    –

  • Monday Morning

    Jackie heard the child’s voice before he saw her a thin high call that cut through his coffee and newspaper, straight past his earbuds and Morning Edition. Pulling the left bud free, he waited a moment.

    Damn kid didn’t appear. “Crap.”

    He stuffed his paper and his iPod into his satchel and rose, joints popping. Every time, every time he came to park, he got interrupted.

    “Maxie!” The cry came again and this time, he saw the girl. Thin and dark-haired, she had tear tracks dried to her face. She was as big as a minute and twice as cute, but unhappy as hell. How the hell was Jackie supposed to help? And who the hell was Maxie?

    He squatted down so he didn’t loom over her. “Lose something, sweetie?”

    She glared at him, all suspicion and mistrust packed into a four-year-old frame. Five, tops. “My cat got out.”

    He sighed. One of those mornings. Figured. He’d just gotten to the Op-Ed page, too. “What’s she look like?”

    “He!”

    Jackie blinked. “Pardon?”

    “Maxie’s a boy!”

    Her aqua jumper had smudges of dirt and a grass stain on it, but she seemed clean enough. All fresh dirt, anyway. “How about I help you?”

    “I’m not to talk to strangers!”

    Modern kids. “Do you have a quarter?”

    “What for?”

    “Well, if you pay me a quarter, I’ll help you. Then we won’t be strangers. You’ll be my boss.”

    She narrowed her eyes, considering. He waited, not rising, though his knee ached like a sore tooth from the position. Finally, she nodded. “All right.”

    They wound their way deeper into the park and found the cat cowering under a bush. He spit when he saw Jackie, but Jackie sighed and dropped his glamour for a moment. The cat blinked and then walked out from the bush, calm as you please.

    After he saw them both back to his bench, he sat down again.

    Ah, mornings. Coffee never tasted so good. He put his earbuds back in, fired up NPR, and paged through to the Op Eds. Now if he could just find a naughty child, he’d finally get some breakfast.

  • Fairy Tale: 2

    Andi of Unhinged has decided to try her hand at an online series. Plotting, worrying, and over-thinking what she writes hasn’t worked out so well, so she’s going back to the way it was when she first began writing. She is totally winging the writing of this story, and has no idea where it’s going to go or how it’s going to end.

    This is the second part. If you’re interested, the beginning is here.

    ~*~*~*~

    The numbness spread as my heart slowed its push of blood through my veins.

    There was–

    –no pain.

    Noth…ing left–

    –no more…me.

    Something touched my cheek.

    GUH-GUNGH!

    My spine arched–

    GUH-GUNGH!

    –as oxygen tore down my throat and filled my lungs with intense heat. I gritted my teeth against the pain of it, surprised that rebirth hurt when death had not.

    GUH-GUNGH.GUH-GUNGH.

    My heartbeats grew stronger, impossibly strong, until there was no pause between beats. No room to catch my breath, to swallow and soothe my burning throat. Teeth still clenched to keep from screaming, I curled over into a ball.

    When I could think long enough to string two coherent thoughts together, I concentrated on slowing my heart again.

    GUH-GUNGH…GUH-gungh…GUH-GUNGH!

    It was more difficult than dying, but maybe that made sense. Living was supposed to be harder than death. Maybe this was another test to see if I was worthy. Anyone could die. Everyone died.

    I tried to will my hyperventilation into submission. When I was twelve and obligated to demonstrate an example of Illyria’s Power before The Council, I’d had a panic attack and fainted. What I felt now was similar, and the memory made it impossible for me to control my breathing.

    “Don’t fight it.”

    Through the black wings beating at the corners of my mind, I heard the voice.

    “Or do. And die for real this time.”

    It had to be the troll who guarded the gold. Who else would have such a mellifluous voice, strong enough to soothe me in spite of the words he’d spoken?

    Guh-gungh. Guh-gungh.

    Why was he still here?

    Why was he still alive?

    Why was I?