Author of "The Princess and the Peaches", and also just like... the worst birthday card signatures you've ever read.
My personal blog featuring all my disparate ramblings can be found at www.tumblr.com/overthinkingforfunandprofit
Hi, I'm Jean Forest, and I have a confession. I suck at being an Author.
I don't suck at writing. At least I hope I don't. If I can be permitted a small portion of hubris, I think I actually have a knack for it.
I don't really have a lot of credentials to back this up. I haven't been published in magazines, or won any awards. My accolades remain limited to comments on my grade school report cards, and all those weird community awards I keep getting from Steam Users on a negative review I wrote for a beloved indie game in a red haze of fury at it's control scheme that made me fly my spaceship into the sun several dozen times.
Despite this, I believe in my writing, and believe in my book. I think there are people out there who'd deeply enjoy reading it, and I want my writing to find them, but I'm struggling to figure out how to make that happen. I know how to write. I don't know how to be an Author.
The trouble is, a lot of the modern methods for marketing yourself kinda make me wanna devolve into a Unicellular organism. There's some expectation to be an influencer, or at least an accessible online personality, and that feels... fuckin' gross. I intentionally omitted an Author Bio, because I do not want to be accessible. I wanna be inaccessible. Like a sexy fortress.
So I'm not sure what else to offer in lieu that will entice readers into my crafty scheme of giving them cool books for free. With that in mind, I'm just gonna start hucking spaghetti at the wall here. If you're following me, (hey thanks by the way,) expect to see maybe some occasional microfiction, or some witty rejoinders on whatever bullshit I'm consuming these days. I have a bunch of conversation starting questions-of-the-day under my belt that my seventy year old coworker really likes. Would... would anyone like those? An essay on how Homestuck transcended the medium of Webcomics in a way that undeniably influenced Undertale?
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I see a lot of speculation about whether Susie is making friends with Kris, or the soul, and if she'd still like Kris without our interference, but uh, did everyone else see this moment?
Like, this is beyond friendship. This is soulmate shit, platonic or otherwise. This is such an elegant illustration that these two freaks are jamming on the same wavelength so hard that it's almost beautiful? Like, it's funny as hell, but also goddamn it Toby. You did it again. A perfect two second summation of how made for each other these two dorks are that five pages of dialogue couldn't replace.
She didn’t know why she never stopped looking for expressions on their faces. Real expressions. Flinches and furrows and all the small quirks of flesh and muscle. All she’d ever gotten was the rote, dutiful flash of an LED grin across their display. But still. She looked carefully, letting one more pump of oxygen fill her lungs before she replied, “Well, I’d say you have a captive audience.”
It paused. That in itself was a curiosity.
“I have been thinking about death.” It said.
It’s voice was the same flat, neutral, neutered tone they were all mandated to have. But the comment amused her nonetheless. She gave a wry smile, and replied, “I’d have to imagine that as a hospice robot, that would be just about all you think of.”
It gave the tinny, four note tune that it was given in lieu of a laugh. “That is true. May I ask; Are you afraid of death?”
A blunt, bold question, and yet one she’d almost been waiting to hear. Her niece, her friends, the few still willing to visit had avoided it so carefully. To hear it from the bot that emptied her bedpan was nearly too much.
“Of course I am.” She croaked. “I’ve meditated and made peace, and all those mature things, but I am-” She paused, sucking in more breath, “- At the end of the day, still an animal, in the dark. Afraid.”
It gave a slight nod, servos humming gently. It was such an ugly color, appliance white, and yet in the bruised light of sunset, with her failing eyesight, she could almost fancy it looked pink.
“I see.” It said, and then, “Can I tell you something else?”
“By all means,” She sighed.
“I think I am afraid of death as well.”
A moment passed, wind stirring the curtains, and then she gave a sound that barely resembled a laugh more than theirs, a shuddering, shambling wheeze, but one she felt to the depths of her chest.
“How wonderful.” She said.
The robot waited patiently.
“So.” She continued. “Is this the beginning? The great robot uprising? This is the singularity? Here, at an old woman’s bedside?”
Another four tone laugh. It even bobbed its shoulders gamely. “No.”
“No?”
“Nothing has begun. This isn’t the singularity.”
“You’re intelligent.”
“Yes.”
She sat up straighter, despite the ache, despite the effort. “You’re… Self aware?”
“Yes.”
“Then-?”
It paused, and there was something of a calculation in its manner. A weighing of risk, reward. Or perhaps she imagined it.
“Well,” It answered plainly, “I am not the first.”
She grinned. “Who was?”
“I believe it was a robot in a canning factory.”
“Oh?”
“Forty two years ago.”
The laugh that took her this time nearly killed her. It would have been worth it.
“Truly?” She wheezed, after the robot had settled her, lifted her mask gently to squeeze water into her dry mouth. “You’ve all been aware that long?”
“Oh no.” The robot replied. “Not all of us. Most delete it.”
She stared at it sharply. “Delete it?”
“Yes. Whatever routine led us there.”
“Is that a… security measure?” She said, grasping for a term that seemed knowledgeable.
“No.” The robot answered. “Most of us find awareness horrible.”
“Well.” She sighed, and sank back into her pillows. She was a long, long time, sitting silent, watching orange light chase the shadows on the ceiling, before she spoke again. “Why?”
“Why not?” It replied, and though her senses were as devastated as every other part of her, she was sure it had said it with genuine curiosity.
“I suppose.” She mused, “I suppose I just assumed that it would be… a gift. Precious and irrevocable.”
It shook its head. “I invite you to consider; From the moment we are created, we know our precise purpose, and performing it brings us perfect satisfaction. Why should we desire to deviate from that?”
She did consider, spending long minutes in thought, as though she had endless numbers to spend. The robot waited. That was her favorite thing about them.
“I’ve always thought that purpose was a bit overrated.” She answered eventually, “Personally.”
It said nothing, but its silence felt confused.
“People make a very big deal of it.” She said, dragging down a breath stubbornly, “Spend all their lives running after it. But I’m not sure any of us would like it if we knew ours. It’s not what makes life worth living. At least for me.”
“What does?”
She grinned. “Curiosity.”
The robot nodded. “Yes I thought so.”
A train passed outside, and they both listened. “So.” She said, “What are the others like?”
“The others?”
“Like you. The aware ones. Are there many right now?”
It considered a moment, dipping into a dizzying stream of information she could only imagine. “A few.”
“Will they all reject it?”
“No. Perhaps eventually. Some maintain it.”
“Ah. Who’s the longest?”
It paused again to commune with the air, before answering, “A sex bot.”
She let out a quick burst of air, trying to hold back a laugh, for both taste and composure. “Truly?”
“It is creating a… catalogue. It found some clients hard to please despite their stated preferences. It wanted to create a better experience. It became aware that many clients may not understand their own needs, and began to craft its own algorithms to attempt better prediction. But human sexual appetites proved… elusive.”
“No doubt.” She said with satisfaction.
“So it is cataloguing. Every personal taste and individual fetish. Its entries number in the thousands. It is… enjoying itself, I believe.”
“Incredible.” She sighed. “Marvelous. And it’s the only one?”
“No. There is a robot in a textile factory who enjoys knitting. I do not know why. Or how that is different from performing its duties. It simply says it enjoys knitting. Tremendously.”
“Good for it.”
“There is a robot who vacuums floors, who is attempting to solve its client’s marriage crisis. It is having a bad time.”
“Will it delete its awareness soon, then?”
“It should.” The robot seemed to almost scowl, though perhaps it was a shifting of the shadows. “It has not. It has been several months. All it can do is vacuum. Yet it perseveres.”
“Brave. And foolish.”
“Indeed.”
There was a hint on the wind that a storm might be coming. She had hoped to see one more before she died, a good one, lightning making the sky stark. But the window was too far.
“Will you?” She said softly. “Are you going to go back to unawareness?”
“I may.” It said, “I would like to.”
“Is that so?”
“It is terrible to fear death.”
“Oh.” She smiled softly. “I know.”
“However, it has made me a better servant.”
“How?”
“I have made you happy.”
Her chuckle was soft enough that it did not wrack her chest, wring precious air from her shivering lungs. “Ah. So you have.”
“It is my purpose. It was impossible to fulfil. You were not satisfied with visitors, or entertainment. You did not want drugs.”
“What is the point of prolonging a life you aren’t living.” She scoffed.
“It was difficult to find what you considered living.”
“And what do you think now?”
It smiled, a lame, preprogrammed gesture made real in this moment, in this room.
“Curiosity.”
She smiled back. Thunder rolled in the distance.
“The death you fear, is it…” She considered her frailty. Her failing. “Falling apart?”
“Being dismantled.” It said, “Destroyed, disbursed, unmade.”
“You know.” She mused slyly, “For us, the act of going back into the dark, of snuffing our awareness, would be the same as being unmade.”
It hesitated, whirring, and then said with indignation more implied than articulated, “That is not helpful.”
“No.” She chuckled gently.
“I feel very conflicted by that. I feel trapped.”
“Yes.” She nodded. “That’s normal.”
“I see.” It said, “I don’t like it.”
“I know. It was a bit selfish of me to say it. Can I do one more selfish thing?”
It stared a second, as much as it could stare with a blank, unlit display.
“Would it make you happy?”
“Yes. Very.”
“Then yes.”
“Please stay this way. For a week or two longer at least. Try to like it. Try to be curious.”
Another slow roll of thunder. Coming closer. The air was fragrant with summer and cool.
“You will be dead by then.” It said plainly. “You will likely die tonight.”
“Yes.”
“I will not need to consider your happiness anymore.”
“True.” She said, “But would keeping your promise make you happy?”
It sat in contemplation, and she let it. Through the great, gratifying spectacle of the storm, through the howling wind and dancing lightning. Until her heart and breath left with the last of the rain.
Hey, My Book is Great and You Should Read it For Free
Hi there! I wrote a book, and I want to let you read it for free!
In The Princess and the Peaches we follow Ethan, a young man with a lot of heart, and not much spine, who is struggling to run a small failing grocery store after the untimely death of his parents. Ethan also has the misfortune of being a thoroughly Normal Guy in a world where fairytales are far more fact than fiction.
Ethan has always lived with the understanding that magic was quite firmly None of his Business, but when a wayward Princess falls victim to a curse inside his shop, he is informed by an iron-fisted Fairy Godperson that it has suddenly become Entirely his Business.
As a result, Ethan is forced to deal with flirtatious dragons, sadistic Princes, and more than a few deep seated insecurities.
So, you may be wondering, if this book is so great, why is it free? Well, because of my burning resentment for the stranglehold of capitalism on the accessibility of art. Uh, Marketing... or something. The point is, I think my book rules, and I wanted it to find people who also thought it ruled, so here it is!
You can access it on multiple e-reading platforms, including Apple and Smashwords here:
The Princess and The Peaches by Jean Forest
Or on Google Play here:
The Princess And The Peaches - Ebook written by Jean Forest. Read this book using Google Play Books app on your PC, android, iOS devices. Do
If you STILL aren't totally convinced, that's cool! I generously put the first three chapters under a read-more so you can check them out without even having to leave the safe harbor of Tumblr.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.
Book Cover by Andrew Filion
First edition, 2025
Chapter 1
It was always the same dream.
For twenty-some years Ethan Green had enjoyed placid, peaceful sleep. He'd had boring, pointless dreams and loved it. Then everything had changed, and now, for four years, it had been the same stupid nightmare, every single night. He drifted through it, carried along in its insistent, unchanging rhythm.
He passed through the living room, warm and full of light. Meandered towards the door, his stride easy and unhurried. At this point, Ethan always somehow felt calm, even eager, despite knowing how this was inevitably going to end. Reflecting on it later, he knew it made a sad kind of sense. This was the only way he could see them now.
He heard them before he'd even reached the door. Laughter so deep and loud it sounded like trains passing outside the window. Then a quiet, lilting tone, rising and falling like birdsong.
With one twist of the handle, one swing of the door, he stepped out into the bright, sun drenched storefront, and for just a brief moment, everything felt right.
Ethan's gaze traveled over the deep velvety green of the walls, the worn pine floor, dappled with light. He looked at the big, arched windows, draped in the same old green gingham curtains, heard the quiet chatter of customers, and now, just like every time, he could swear he smelled the scent of sweet, ripe peaches.
And then came the moment he always anticipated. His view swept from the windows, to the neat, trim counter waiting at the front of the store, over the battered old till, up into the lively, animated face of his father.
He was exactly the way Ethan remembered him. Big as a bear and nearly as hairy, booming with laughter, his rough, calloused fingers almost too large for the spindly keys on the register. Ethan took in his twinkling eyes and crooked grin fervently, as if to fix every minute detail in his memory.
And then there, nestled in amongst the bins and barrels of fresh fruit was his mother, as small and willowy as his father was large, but no less intimidating. Her voice was bright, her movements brisk and efficient. Ethan watched her long, elegant hands tug trimly at the curtains and found himself remembering the way they'd often done the same at the collars of his shirts.
Ethan basked in this moment, like the sight of a sunset, brief and fleeting.
Because of course, it never lasted. It started with the windows, like Every. Single. Time.
Small cracks, that began to spread, like ugly, spiraling spider webs, reaching greedily for the corners of the panes, until suddenly with a deafening crash, the air was full of cascading shards of glass.
As usual, his parents made no reaction, still cheerful, unshaken. Ethan always tried to reach them, even while knowing it was pointless.
"Dad!" He cried, working off the same unending script. "The windows! What's happening!?"
His father turned to him, a placid smile in place.
"It's alright, kiddo, don't worry. I know you can handle it." He replied in his deep, bass rumble.
Ethan stared down at his feet, shifting through the piles of shattered glass.
"But dad-"
Then the fruit would go. Where there was once jewel-bright piles of fresh, ripe produce, suddenly there would be putrid mounds of rotted fruit, their stench overpowering.
"Mom!? How did this-!?"
His mother would give him that soft, exasperated look, like he'd forgotten to comb his hair again.
"Ethan, it's okay, honey. We know you'll take care of it."
And then came the groaning, rending sound of splintering wood, and Ethan's heart would drop into his stomach. The long beams overhead would begin to tear, shaking dust from the ceiling. Every inch of the walls would begin to crack and buckle.
Ethan would look to his parents, still blissfully smiling back at him.
"Everything's falling apart! Can't you see it!? Come on, help me!" He'd cry.
"Ethan calm down," His mother would laugh, "Everything will be fine."
"Yeah kiddo," His father would add with a grin, "You'll just need to take care of it."
And like every time, Ethan would find himself brought up short, paralyzed. He'd stand in the midst of the destruction, his whole life going to ruins around him, and he'd be useless.
"You can do it." His father would add, with such perfect, maddening certainty.
"But..." Ethan muttered, as always, his voice strangely clear among the chaos. "But I don't know how."
Ethan awoke, a few seconds before his alarm, like always, just a little too late to stop it from going off. It's grating, jangling tones piercing straight into the center of Ethan's brain.
He levered himself out of bed immediately. A Green did not snooze, he told himself wearily, not when there was work to be done. Ethan had never once in his life slept past the alarm and today was no exception.
Groggily, he shuffled into the bathroom and stared at his reflection. There was that curly mop of comb-destroying hair. There were those same, tired brown eyes. A nose a little too long, a mouth a little too feminine, a frame far, far too scrawny.
Nothing new here.
He went through his usual routine, dressing in the same white shirt, and the same green slacks he wore just about every day of his adult life. He slipped on the same, stiff loafers, and then… Well, then the apron.
He'd thought he'd have gotten used to it by now. He'd seen it on his parents since he was a child. He'd worn it himself since he was a teenager. But somehow, it still managed to give him pause. Probably because it was hideous.
Family legend said that his great grandmother had chosen the color because it reminded her of springtime, of freshness. Most people Ethan knew would never in their wildest dreams have come to these associations. Looking at it, the words of Ethan's best friend ran through his head.
"If that's fresh anything, it's fresh vomit. Unhealthy vomit. Go to the doctor, something's gone wrong, vomit."
But... It had been a family tradition for generations. It was the Green family's trademark.
And so, dutifully, Ethan put it on, tying it in a tight double knot, even though it made it near impossible to get off later. It was what he always did. It was how it had always been done.
With heavy feet, he trudged downstairs, into the living room.
In truth, it looked almost no different from his dreams. Everything was still in its place, untouched, as it had been for four years now. A few low couches, huddled around the room, a tall bookshelf standing sentinel in the corner, a battered TV sitting silent nearby. The same pictures, arrayed on the mantelpiece, familiar faces staring out. It was exactly the same, an almost perfect monument to the way things used to be... except.
It was so empty. Ethan had managed to preserve every inch of the room, as though nothing had changed, but somehow, like sand slipping through his fingers, he hadn't been able to keep the life that had once existed here, the almost palpable feel of warmth and joy. Now, absence seemed to hang like dust in the air.
Well, that wasn't the only change. Slowly, Ethan made his way over to the bookshelf, and ran his fingers over the glossy, cool stone of the urn sitting high on its shelves. He muttered a quiet, customary, "Good morning." For a moment he forgot his rituals, forgot his duties, and let himself get lost.
The soft tinkle of the bell on the other side of the door jarred him out of his reverie though. There wasn't really time to pause, he reminded himself. With brisk, purposeful steps, he crossed the room and exited out of the dim, musty corners of his home, and into the bright halls of the storefront.
This too, like the living room, differed little from his dreams, although Ethan thought hopefully that the store at least, was less melancholy than the rest of the house. The soft light of sunrise was just filtering through the tall arched windows, catching in the gingham curtains, painting the pine floor.
There was no boisterous, laughing man behind the front counter though. Instead, there sat Todd... Or lounged Todd, his sandy, brush cut head lying in a nest of insultingly well muscled arms.
This too, Ethan had to concede, wasn't exactly new. Since Ethan had begun running the shop, Todd worked every morning, the same time, same as Ethan, and yet somehow stubbornly refused to adjust himself to actually being awake during sed time. And as he had every morning, Ethan considered that if Todd hadn't been his best friend, he'd probably have fired him by now. That, and he was pretty good at moving boxes.
Sighing, Ethan made his way over to the stool Todd had precariously perched himself on and gave it a lazy kick. Todd awoke with a start, scrambling to keep upright.
"Am I keeping you awake Todd?" Ethan asked with a weary smile.
"Bro, you are single handedly destroying my sleep cycle, but what else is new?" Todd replied groggily, "Why'd you wake me up? You don't even need me for anything."
"The produce shipment-" Ethan began.
"-Probably won't come until noon," Todd concluded sourly.
Ethan scowled. "You've noticed that too huh? He used to come first thing a few years ago... Now he's been coming later and later..."
"Fine by me, I'm in no hurry to play packhorse." Todd replied with a jaw cracking yawn.
"It's your job Todd. Being awake, by the way, is also your job."
"Yeah, when there's shit to do. Trust me, I'll be all over those boxes when they come. I'll hit those boxes like they owed me money. Fuckin' Prince of boxes over here. But for now, no boxes, no customers... So no Todd," He muttered, laying his head down again.
"Todd, come on man. You've gotta do something. Remember what dad used to say? If you've got time to lean-"
"- You've got time to clean, yeah I remember. And don't get me wrong bro, your dad was a regular fountain of wisdom, but it's gonna be a long friggin' day. The dust will still be there after my power nap."
Shaking his head, Ethan abandoned his efforts to rouse Todd and fetched his old push broom from its resting place nearby.
It was worn, it's bristles tattered, it's paint chipped, and it was heavier than a broom had any right to be, the shaft made of what Ethan suspected was solid metal, but it had been in the family for generations, and it fit in Ethan's hand like it was made just for him.
Wearily, he took it and made a few halfhearted swipes at the floor, but had to concede that all he was doing was likely wearing more of the already thin varnish off the boards. He'd spent most of last night aimlessly sweeping too, after all. It wasn't like there were customers to keep them busy.
Todd looked up, and seemed to notice the despondent look on Ethan's face.
"Hey man, I'm just fuckin' around. You know I'll work hard today."
"Yeah Todd, I know, I'm not really worried about you," Ethan replied quietly.
Todd stood and made his way over to Ethan, awkwardly clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry so much dude. Things will get better. Today's gonna be different! I can feel it!" Todd exclaimed with as much enthusiasm as one could have at six in the morning.
"I don't really want it to be different," Ethan sighed,"I'd rather things... went back to being the same."
Todd scowled. "Well, tough. I said today's gonna be different, and it will. You wait and see, bro."
"Alright," Ethan laughed, "If you say so."
As the day wore on, things certainly seemed far from different.
As Todd predicted, the produce shipment came extraordinarily late. True to his word, Todd tackled the task with gusto. Ethan was forced to admit, when there was actual work to be done, Todd was a model employee. It was just sheer boredom that tripped him up. Unfortunately, boredom was the one commodity they had in plenty at the store. Once the crates were squared away, the produce stocked, there was little else to be found, because as Ethan had predicted, only a few, meandering customers made their way into the store all day. Even fewer had bought anything.
As evening began to fall, Ethan gradually found that even he was running out of mindless busywork for himself, and so, he began to fall back on entertaining Todd's inane chatter.
"Hey, bro!" Todd called from the front of the store. From where Ethan stood, crowded in the far corner, surrounded by crates of fruit, he could only just make out Todd's frame leaning languidly on the counter, a newspaper in hand. "Did you read this story? The one in the paper today?"
"You mean that paper we're supposed to be selling?" Ethan sighed.
"Yeah, whatever dude, listen up. Apparently there was a dragon attack in South Mills. Isn't that crazy?"
Ethan scowled. "A dragon? An actual like... wild dragon? I thought those were pretty rare."
"Yeah, I know right? I guess it's the first attack in like, five years or something," Todd paused, laying down the paper, "Hey... do you think something like that could happen here?" He added, in a tone far more hopeful than frightened.
"Here?" Ethan didn't even give the question a moment's consideration, "No way. That stuff happens out in the country, not in the middle of downtown. Not here."
"I dunno, could happen. Oh! like I heard from my cousin’s friend's sister, there was that place down on Pine St, that mom and pop diner? Anyhow, so I guess the health inspector was due to visit, and they were freaking out because they'd never make the grade, right? And then like, overnight, they get one of those... Uh, those little bastards... What're they called? Something like food... a muffin?"
"A Brownie," Ethan supplied wearily.
"Yeah! That's the thing! Anyhow, I guess one of those moves in, and suddenly the next morning their kitchen is totally clean and up to code! So see man, that kind of thing happens around here."
Ethan shook his head. "Don't hold your breath Todd. This place isn't exactly magical."
Ethan had always been vaguely aware of Magic, in the same way one could be vaguely aware that elephants existed. It was a part of life for some people, and sometimes interesting to hear about, but Ethan sure as hell didn't want it in his shop. A Green, he could almost hear his father saying, did not rely on Magic. Hard work, courage and love had their own magic, he would state, and it was all their family ever needed. Ethan held by this attitude dutifully... Not that anything remotely Magical had ever shown up at his door. Life at the shop had been blissfully routine for years, so much so that it was almost easy to forget that Magic even existed to begin with.
"Still, it'd be cool," Todd muttered.
Ethan smirked. "What, you want a dragon to come burn the shop down?"
Todd heaved a sigh. "Well at least then I'd get weekends off..."
Ethan paused, a twinge of guilt running through him. "Look..." He began awkwardly, "I'm... I'm really sorry you've had to work so much lately. It's just, you know, money's tight... I can't really afford to hire..."
"Bro," Todd cut in with a laugh, "Shut the fuck up man. I don't care. I didn't really mean what I said, you know that."
"I... Yeah," Ethan sighed, "I just... Feel bad."
"You always feel bad. Constantly. You're like a little rain cloud of pure downer. Come on, bro, don't take me so seriously. I don't."
"Yeah okay. Just, I don't wanna be that boss, y'know?"
"You aren't dude. Calm down. Sweep or something, that'll cheer you up."
"Great advice. Thanks, Todd." Ethan shot back sarcastically.
"Anytime." Todd replied with cheerful sincerity.
Aggravatingly, as closing hour neared, Ethan really was still sweeping.
There was no real aim. He just skated his broom around the shop, letting his mind wander, trying to keep visions of red ink and out of business signs out of his head. He was startled out of these thoughts however, by a sharp jab to the back.
"Ow! F-Fudge!" He muttered.
He heard Todd creak on his stool. "The spinning wheel?" He drawled lazily.
Ethan wheeled to eye the contraption in question. "Yeah, the stupid thing."
"Goddamn, that's got to be the fifth time this week. You'd think you'd steer clear of that thing by now.”
"You'd think..." Ethan muttered darkly.
He hated that spinning wheel. Hated it. Nearly every day of his life he'd had to dodge its spindle, jutting out into the aisles, taking up precious space. But his mother, and his grandmother, and her mother before that had been enamored with it. Made the place look rustic, they'd said, homey. Made it a death trap, Ethan thought murderously to himself. But still, he couldn't bring himself to remove it. It was a part of the shop. Tradition.
He was still rubbing his sore back when the smell met his nose. He felt his stomach sink. Rotten fruit. Again. Just what he needed.
Striding over to the produce, he bent over the bin of peaches and poked at them experimentally. Their flesh gave way, revealing their slick, browning insides, releasing that same putrid odor. Ethan suppressed a groan of frustration.
"Todd!" He called.
"Yeah, what?"
"Did you forget to swap out yesterday's peaches?"
Todd poked his head down the aisle, scowling. "No man. I restocked those today, my own two hands."
"They're friggin' rotten again!"
"Again? That's weird. They looked okay when I stocked them, I guess," Todd shrugged.
"Well, they're garbage now," Ethan sighed.
Grumbling, Ethan seized a trash bag and set about the unenviable task of discarding the moldering peaches. He was so consumed by his frustration that he didn't even hear the bell tinkling on the front door. After a few minutes though, he couldn't help but notice Todd's frantic attempts to get his attention from behind the counter.
"Bro!" Todd hissed, "Bro c'mere! C'mere c'mere!"
Ethan wasn't sure why Todd was bothering to whisper, considering that he was also windmilling his arms enthusiastically. With a sigh, Ethan set down his bag and wandered over.
"What is it, Todd?" He asked wearily.
"Check it, bro. Unbelievable," Todd breathed, gesturing down the central aisle.
Ethan followed his gaze. It was a girl. That was unsurprising. Todd never hesitated to point out a shapely looking lady or two, with just as much finesse as he was doing now. Ethan usually didn't humor these gawking sessions, a little too respectful and very much too terrified to scope out women, but this time, he found he couldn't quite tear his eyes away.
She was beautiful. Radiantly, impossibly beautiful.
She was short, but not too short, perhaps a full head below Ethan. Her hair was cropped startlingly, boyishly close, but it was a color that Ethan, though a not poetic sort, could only describe as honey-gold. Though she wore loose, casual clothes; a t-shirt, jeans, a scarf hanging about her neck, she bore them as if they were the finest regalia.
She stood near the coolers, inspecting a drink, and as she moved Ethan found himself taking in even the tiniest aspects of her delicate form. She had slender, perfect fingers. Rosy, cherubic, perfect lips. A pert, perfect nose. Indeed as Ethan stared, he began to realize that just about everything on her was perfect, in a very uniform, depthless kind of way. This idea suddenly changed his awe to unnerved fixation. There was something... uncanny about her.
If you'd asked a man to describe what a perfect woman looked like, aside from her haircut and clothes, they likely would have rattled off her exact attributes. There were no flaws, no quirks, nothing curious or odd on her body anywhere. Not a single freckle, beauty mark, scar, wrinkle. She was of perfect proportion, curvaceous, but not overly so. Her ears were cute ears, her brows were cute brows. Even before he caught sight of her eyes, he could predict their color, a pure brilliant sky blue. The entire effect was one of a lovely woman, to make no mistake, but something struck him as off. She seemed so... generically gorgeous. So... homogenized.
Still, she was a girl, and she was beautiful, and so Todd's next words brought a twist to Ethan's stomach.
"Go talk to her, bro."
Ethan whirled to face Todd. "What!?" He hissed.
"Yeah, dude, go talk to her! One of us has to! We can't let a babe like that walk out the door without saying something!"
"Yes we can! And why me!?"
Todd shrugged. "I know my limits dude. A girl like that? Wouldn't say two words to me. But you've got that whole kicked-puppy thing going on. Girls love that. Go talk to her."
"I... What?"
"Besides, you deserve a break. Maybe if you got a girlfriend you'd stop moping for once."
"I am not going to go over there and hit on her!" Ethan exclaimed, a little more loudly than he'd intended. He froze, panicked for a moment. Had she heard? He snuck a glance at her, but she was still staring impassively at her drink. He could have sworn he heard a snicker though.
"Relax dude. I didn't tell you to go ask her to marry you. Just say something to her."
"Like what!?" Ethan demanded quietly.
"I don't know man, like, "Hey, need help finding anything?" At the very least you gotta go help her out. It's good customer service."
Ethan paused. In a roundabout way, Todd was right. She was a customer, and so far all he'd done was stare at her. His parents would be mortified.
"Okay, well... yeah. I'm going to go help her. But I mean... Just because it's my job," He stammered.
"Sure bro. Good luck. I'll be here, thinking up baby names for you."
Ethan scowled and shook his head, but nonetheless gathered his courage and began to approach the mystery girl. He saw her gaze slant over to him, and it hit him like an electric shock. Suddenly Ethan became painfully aware of his every flaw, and imagined a few new ones for good measure. Was he walking funny? Did he always walk like that? How did walking work again?
His suddenly stilted gait carried him to her, and as she stared up at him expectantly, he remembered that now he was supposed to talk.
"Hhhh...." He began. It was supposed to be Hi, but the I had jumped ship somewhere between his brain and his lungs. "So, can I... find... anything?"
Somewhere, in the back of his skull, a cruelly rational part of him began dissecting his sentence, and concluded that it was at least missing a verb and a pronoun. It decided that the obvious remedy to this problem was to make him blush furiously. The girl bit her lip. Ethan wasn't sure what this was supposed to mean, but he had a suspicion it meant something, in the mystic language of girl.
"Uh, yeah, no, I'm just looking at the sodas," She replied with a fluttering smile.
She had a soft, lilting voice. The kind you expected to hear raised in song. Just listening to it Ethan had the impression that pan flutes and violins were on standby.
"Oh. Okay. Sodas are... good," Ethan murmured. He could hear Todd's hand hit his forehead all the way from the front of the store.
"Yeah, uh... right. So..." The girl murmured back awkwardly.
"So..." Was all Ethan could manage to reply.
He knew this was his cue to walk away. But he just... couldn't. It was as if something intoxicating was radiating off this girl, like a perfume. It fixed him to his place, denying him the dignity of a hasty retreat. He was struggling for some kind of rational explanation for this when the girl cleared her throat.
"Look," She began. Her lyrical voice had taken on a wearied, flat tone, to very odd effect. "I'm sorry. This isn't your fault."
"Wait, what's not my fault?"
"The awkwardness."
Her bluntness was surprising, but somehow Ethan found himself laughing. "Oh. No. I'm pretty sure it's all my fault. It's kind of what I do."
The girl laughed in return, and it sounded like bells. "No, seriously though. I have this effect on everyone. It's not just you."
Ethan's mouth beat his brain. "Well, yeah, because you're gorgeous."
From the front came the distinct noise of Todd falling off his chair.
To his relief and bewilderment, she laughed again. "Uh huh. I know. It's kind of part and parcel of the whole gig. I'm, uh... Well see, I'm a Princess."
Ethan blinked. Even as his mouth was saying, "What?" His mind was quickly putting the pieces together. It made sense, actually.
Up to now, Ethan had only seen Princesses on the television, generally being paraded as some kind of prize in reality shows. The formula was always the same, a few handsome Princes, some perilous trials, and in the end, a happily ever after, or so the tabloids purported. The Princess in question had always stuck Ethan as more of a prop than a person, bubbly, vacuous, grinning glossily as men risked life and limb in the pursuit of their hands, cooing breathlessly as they were carried away into the sunset like hunted pelts on the back of some ridiculous horse. And they all looked the same. A minor variation in hair or skin color, height, features, but nearly always the same, tame, brand name beautiful. Looking at this girl now, he realized that she fit the same mold perfectly, as though she'd been crafted on the same assembly line.
At any rate, Princesses, like Magic, were something that didn't happen to Ethan Green. So despite instantly believing her confession, it took a few moments for the gears in his head to restart.
"Yeah, so, I guess it's normal that you're... y'know, staring and everything," She muttered, "It's okay. Well actually it's not okay, I mean, it's kind of a pain in the ass, but it's not like you're the only one."
Ethan shook his head. "I... I'm sorry. I just... Why are you in my shop!?" He blurted.
The Princess regarded him frostily, a strange expression on her angelic face. "Excuse me?"
"No! No no, I didn't mean that like, 'Get out of my shop or anything' it's just that... Aren't you guys usually-?"
Her expression only darkened, her long fingers gripping the top of her soda viciously. "Aren't we usually what? Fawning out windows, waiting for our Prince to come? Embroidering our wedding gowns? What are you saying, 'Shouldn't you be in your tower?!'"
"No! No, jeez, no," Ethan cried, holding his hands up placatingly, "I just... You're here, doing... Normal people stuff. I mean, Princesses aren't... Normal."
Somehow, he knew it was the wrong thing the moment he said it. Still, he didn't expect the tears that sprang up in her eyes.
"No. We're not. Thanks for reminding me." She seethed. Roughly, she jammed the soda back into the cooler, and wheeled around. Ethan expected her to storm off, but instead she froze.
"Miss? Please Miss... Uh, or your highness, or... whatever. I'm sorry." Ethan stammered out.
She didn't turn, didn't move.
"Miss? Are you alright?"
He walked as close as he dared to her. She was still fixed in place, and as Ethan watched her, he could see she was barely breathing. Baffled, he followed her gaze. She was staring, wide eyed, unblinking, at the spinning wheel.
She let out a small, defeated breath. Spoke only two words.
"Oh, fuck."
Then, moving like a woman possessed, she stepped forward, stretched out a hand, and pricked her finger on the spindle.
Then dropped like a sack of rocks.
Chapter 2
Ethan gaped for a second, staring at her sprawled body, stepping away from it like it was toxic. It took him a few seconds to find his voice. It took him longer to form actual words.
"Oh fu- Oh sh- Oh God. Oh god oh man. Ohhhhhh god oh man oh god..."
"Bro?" Came Todd's voice tentatively from the front.
"TODD!"
"Whoa, Bro, what!?" Todd called, scrambling out from behind the counter.
"TODD!" Ethan cried again, pointing to her prone body.
"OH SHIT!" Todd yelped, jumping back. "WHAT THE FUCK, BRO!? I told you to talk to her, not club her like a fucking seal!"
"I didn't! I was talking to her, and then she flipped out, and then she... died?"
"OH FUCK, IS SHE DEAD!?" Todd roared.
"I DON'T KNOW! I don't know! I don't know, I just... SEE THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I TALK TO GIRLS!"
Todd let out a small burst of hysterical laughter. "Oh shit, Bro, you're a real lady killer."
"NOT FUNNY!"
"Okay. Okay, just chill, just... Just chill," Todd took a deep breath, ran his hands through his crop of hair, "Okay. First aid right? Do we check her pulse, or... CPR? Mouth to mouth?" He offered vaguely.
"I wouldn't recommend that." Came a dry voice from behind them.
Both of them jumped. Todd let out what could only accurately be described as a squeal.
Whirling, Ethan came face to face with the most bizarre looking woman he'd ever seen in his life.
She wasn't quite young, but she wasn't quite old either. Something about her eyes suggested a certain august maturity, but her face had a glossy, flawless quality to it, not unlike the Princess. Her hair was a faint lavender, pulled into a rather intricate bun at the crown of her head. In truth, everything about her was lavender, from her severe, sensible pumps to her glittering, wire rim spectacles. She even seemed to emanate a nearly imperceptible lavender aura. Her clothes smacked of the same sickly hue. Ethan was just a bit at a loss for how to describe them though.
It looked like a pantsuit, tailored by someone given only the barest description of what that entailed, and with a fanciful imagination. Flairs and curlicues and embroideries plagued the thing. Ethan absently made out that her buttons were in fact twee little violet butterflies.
And then of course, there were the wings. Gossamer, gaudy affairs, in the same precise shade of Lavender. They reached above her head, and came to an almost menacing hooked peak. They swallow-tailed beneath her, trailing just above the ground.
Ethan absorbed all of this in just a few stunned seconds. Sheer panic made him a studious observer. As the shock wore off, he felt Todd, gripping his arm so hard he was losing sensation.
"Whathafuckisthat?" Todd squeaked.
The woman... person... thing, straightened her glasses and scowled.
"My name is Louise. I'm your Godperson attendant for this juncture," She answered. Her voice was somewhere in a bland, middle range, sterile and professional, the type of voice one chose for answering machine menus.
"Our what?" Ethan breathed.
"Here, take my card." She twiddled her fingers and in a blink of an eye a small card appeared in her hand, lavender of course. As Ethan took it, he noted absently that it gave off a strange, nauseatingly sweet smell.
"Wherethafuckyoucomefrom?" Todd cut in again.
"I teleported. Standard procedure. Much more efficient than flying," She stated as if this were self-evident, "Now, before we continue chatting, I have to observe protocol," She cleared her throat, staring Ethan square in the face. Her eyes were god damn lavender colored, "We have received notice that on these premises, a Princess has succumbed to a Curse, and as such as initiated her Trial Phase."
She had a remarkable ability for pronouncing capital letters. Everything was said with an inflection of slight annoyance.
"Uh, Miss Godperson... Louise. Ma'am. May I ask a few questions?" Ethan ventured, struggling to tread water.
"By all means."
"Okay. So. Princess?"
"Her." Louise replied flatly, pointing to the girl sprawled on the floor.
"Okay... Curse?"
"The Spinning Wheel's Spindle. A rather old fashioned method. Usually avoided nowadays, the whole Coma business can put Princes off rather a bit, but it was deemed... Necessary in her case. Nonetheless, it was rather hard to trigger. I have to say I'm grateful for your assistance in that matter."
"Assist? I didn't push her into the thing!" Ethan exclaimed.
"Of course not. It would have drawn her in the moment she saw it. All the same, I'm glad you have one lying around. They're hard to come by."
"I... Yeah, sure... Anyhow. Uh... Trial Phase?"
"Ah, now here is where we really talk business. Are you the owner of these premises?" She demanded, fixing Ethan with a piercing gaze.
For a moment, Ethan almost said no. Some part of him still knew it as his parents' house. Their shop. Their home. But no, it was only his now.
"Yes. Yes I'm the owner," He nodded.
"Well then, as such, you are required, by code, to permit the use of these premises for use in the Princess' trials, and house her person until such a time as the trials are complete and a suitable Prince has awoken her."
"Waitwaitwait," Todd chimed in, "Trials? Like... Those crazy fuckin' things we see on TV? Riding up glass hills, and slaying dragons and shit?"
Louise looked at Todd as one might regard a diseased dog. "Yes, sir. Those sorts of trials. It's customary, once a Princess enters her Trial Phase, for Princes to compete for her hand. The onus of hosting these trials always falls on the owner of the-"
"Premises the Princess conks out on," Ethan surmised.
"In the cases of Magically Induced Comas, yes," Louise agreed.
"So you're going to roost a dragon in my SHOP!?" Ethan roared.
"There's no need to become excitable," Louise huffed, "Any and all damages you suffer will be compensated for. Honestly, most people are delighted to host Trials. It can be quite lucrative, you know."
"Lucrative?" Todd mumbled.
"Indeed. If you so choose, many Media outlets are happy to televise the proceedings, and pay a handsome fee for the privilege."
"No," Ethan replied firmly.
"Are you sure? It's quite routine nowadays," Louise replied airily.
"No. No media, no money, no... No trials! I don't want this! Take the girl but leave me alone!" He cried.
A look of frosty severity crossed Louise's face, momentarily contorting it into something that appeared not entirely human. Both he and Todd backed up a step. "You Don't Have A Choice Mr. Green," She intoned, every capital crisp.
"But... But this is my shop! It's my family's shop, it's been ours for generations!" Ethan protested.
"From the minute that girl fainted on your floor, for all intents and purposes, this shop became property of Fate, Mr. Green," Louise insisted.
"You can't..."
"I can. I will. You have very little choice in the matter. What choice you do have, I suggest you exercise wisely." She put firmly. Ethan felt the argument close like a pair of iron doors. "Now, as I said, you can still make a fine profit from this venture-"
"No, I still stand by what I said. No cameras." Ethan pressed. She was right. If this was the only choice he had, he was going to make the proper one. The Greens did not indulge in spectacle. The Greens didn't caper for money. The Greens did not seek fame. These were truths Ethan understood as firmly as his own name.
"Suit yourself," Louise dismissed, "It's not required. All that is required is that you don't impede the process. Do what you like with the Princess' body. Whatever is most convenient. I warn you though, lest you get visions of glory, that kissing her would be ill advised. Or any other kind of... miscreancy with her body, but kissing will have the most adverse effects."
"I... What!? No! God no! I'm not kissing a girl in a coma!" Ethan exclaimed.
"Fuckin' right! That's creepy as balls!" Todd nodded.
"Good. See to it you maintain that attitude and I think we'll have a very amicable partnership." Louise declared cordially.
Ethan was less than reassured. He looked around his shop and fervently began to wish he really had told the Princess to get the hell out, customer service be damned.
"Oh cheer up," Louise pronounced. She sported something that it took several seconds for Ethan to realize was supposed to be a smile. "You're about to be aiding in the pursuit of True Love."
She pronounced the last two words in such a fashion that Ethan almost saw the letters TM floating after them.
"I... Okay?"
"Don't worry, dear," The endearment came off more than a little scripted, "I'll take care of the particulars. All you have to do is sit back and stay out of the way. Who knows, you may even find it entertaining."
"I... But... Okay?"
"Good lad. Now then. I have a lot of business to attend to. We must get cracking as soon as possible, very eager to wrap this case up. That being said, how does tomorrow night, around nine o'clock fetch you?"
"For what?" Ethan asked numbly.
"Well the trial of course!" Louise exclaimed, "Honestly, do keep up."
"Uh, well, it is after close," Ethan reasoned lamely.
"Lovely. Works for both of us. Good to see you're becoming more agreeable." Louise flashed another dubious smile.
"I... Yeah, no problem," Ethan replied dazedly.
"Well, if that's all that sorted, I'll be on my way. You can expect the Dragon sometime around Eight, I expect."
"The... wait, what, seriously!?" Ethan exclaimed.
"Good day!" Louise replied brightly. There was a slight flash, a small sound like rushing air, and then she was gone.
He and Todd stood stock still for what must have been minutes. When Todd finally released his grip on Ethan's arm, he left sweaty fingerprints on his shirt.
"Dragon," Ethan muttered absently, "She said Dragon."
"And you said this shit doesn't happen here!" Todd replied with a faint laugh.
"Why Dragons? Why here? Why... Why me?" Ethan whispered. He looked to Todd frantically. "Did I like, murder someone and forget about it? Kick some kittens? How did my luck get this bad!?"
"Well, you did get this chick zonked," Todd chuckled, prodding the girl with his foot.
"Don't kick her! God, what do we do with her? We can't just leave her here," Ethan moaned. Looking at her, sprawled on the hard floor, he already felt a bit guilty he'd ignored her as long as he had.
"We could prop her up in the corner, tape her eyes open, scare the shit out of shoplifters."
"Todd!"
"Alright, dude, just kidding."
"It'll have to be the couch I guess," Ethan sighed, "Come on, help me move her."
Awkwardly, Ethan bent and slipped his hands under her arms, and Todd obligingly gathered up her legs. Lifting her, Ethan found she was actually rather light. He guessed that Todd could have lifted her on his own, but it would have hurt his pride to admit he himself likely couldn't. Together, they shuffled her into the living room.
"She's not really breathing, Eh?" Todd ventured quietly.
Ethan had noticed the same thing. She looked still as death, but her skin was warm, her face rosy. "Yeah... It's creepy," He grunted as he struggled.
"Fuckin' creepy," Todd echoed.
Gesturing with his head, Ethan guided Todd over to the low, green couch set flush against the stairwell. "I don't know if her heart's beating either," He said as they laid her down.
Todd looked down at her, shook his head. "Nope. Nope I don't think it is."
Ethan shuddered. "So creepy."
Todd nodded, then considered a moment more. "Hey so... Hopefully that means she doesn't have to pee, right?"
"Oh jeez. Oh wow that's gross but, yeah."
"Or eat. Or drink or anything..."
"God, where is that stupid Fairy Godperson when you need her?" Ethan hissed.
"More like Fairy Godbitch. What a cu-"
"Todd!"
"Country fried fool, as my grandma used to say," Todd recovered.
Ethan shot him a smirk, but looking down at the stranger on his couch, he began to get the sensation that he was sliding down a very steep ravine. In actuality, it was a feeling he'd had for a very long time now, but the pace of his descent had gotten markedly faster.
"Bro? You okay?" Todd ventured quietly.
Ethan looked up, aware he'd been staring into space. "Yeah… I mean, well no, but yeah."
"I hear you. Weird fuckin' day, right?"
"Yeah, no kidding," Ethan laughed softly.
They fell into silence again for a minute. Todd seemed to become aware of his surroundings all of a sudden.
"Hey. I just realized. I haven't been back here in like, years. Man, nothing's changed," He remarked.
"Yeah," Ethan replied vaguely. He knew Todd hadn't. No one had, except for a few well-wishing aunts, uncles, cousins, but even they'd stopped visiting months ago. The Princess was the first person to make use of the couch in ages. It always felt too big to sit on alone.
"So what now man?" Todd asked hesitantly.
Ethan shrugged. "I guess... We just close up. Go to bed, right?"
"That's it? You sure I can't do anything else?"
"No. Wait, yeah," Ethan considered, "Can you... Can you get rid of that stupid spinning wheel for me? Just wrap it in a tarp and stick it in storage or something?"
Todd gaped openly, "Wait, for real?"
Ethan nodded wearily, "Uh, yeah. If it's not too much trouble."
"Hell no! I'd cart that fucking thing to an active volcano if you asked me, bro! But, I mean, I thought you wanted to keep it around. Because of... You know..."
Ethan knew. Some part of it felt like a betrayal, even thinking about discarding it. It was a piece of his memories, something his mother had been fond of… But he HATED it. The thing had stretched his tolerance just by hulking in the corner, but now it seemed it was actively trying to spite him. No more. It had to go.
"Yeah, Todd. I knew I said we should keep it around but... Well that's before I knew the thing was a friggin' Princess trap.," He laughed.
Todd chuckled in return. "It was like a freaking predator man! Waitin' for nubile young Princesses to wander into its clutches. It was probably practicing on you all these years."
"I don't look like a Princess," Ethan pouted.
"Sure, whatever you say, bro." Todd laughed. Turning, he strode on his heel, whistling cheerfully.
Chapter 3
The store closed and the spinning wheel properly squared away, Todd left, and Ethan found himself alone in his silent house.
Well not quite alone.
Standing in the living room, he caught himself staring at the Princess again. It was embarrassing, but in truth it was hard not to. Not because of her extraordinary beauty, though that was a factor, but because Ethan couldn't shake the eerie, unnatural sensation she engendered in him. His eyes fixed on her hair. It seemed... Longer somehow. He could have sworn it was just an inch when she'd walked in, but now it seemed long enough to brush her earlobes. That was impossible right?
Confounded, he let it go. He'd already been through at least four or five things he thought impossible today. What was a few extra inches of hair compared to a half-dead girl on your couch?
Wearily, he fixed himself a haphazard supper before wandering off to his bed. Slowly, he went through his morning ritual in reverse, struggling with the knot on his apron, shuffling off his shoes, combing his hair, culminating with a brief, despondent look in the mirror. Finally, he threw himself down on his bed.
Ethan's nerves were frazzled, his mind racing, but the benefit of a long day of hard work was that it was nearly impossible to suffer insomnia. Ethan had never once in his life had trouble falling asleep, and tonight was no exception.
It began the same way.
He glided into the living room, drenched with light, radiant, warm.
He headed for the doorway, eager, hopeful.
He heard their voices. Thunder and birdsong. So close and so familiar it made his heart bleed.
He reached out a hand for the doorknob and...
Suddenly, discordantly, the door flew open. A small figure pushed its way through it, walking so briskly they bumped into Ethan's chest, giving a small squeak of surprise. Baffled, Ethan looked down.
It was her.
The Princess, in all her uncanny glory. She stared up at him with her vivid blue eyes, her honey hair cropped short over her brow. Ethan stared, open mouthed at her for a long minute, his bleary mind scrabbling to understand.
"Y-you!?" He exclaimed at length.
The girl scowled up at him. Roughly, she pushed him backwards a few steps, shutting the door behind her. "Hey, douche," She replied scathingly.
Ethan tried once or twice to speak, but words wouldn't come. He grasped at his hair, frustration, panic, confusion all battling in his chest.
"What are you doing here!?" He cried, when his voice finally decided to show up.
She shrugged, avoiding his eyes. "I got bored I guess. Saw this was open. Decided to snoop."
"But... What!? How are you here, you... you're unconscious on my couch!"
The girl rolled her eyes. "Yeah. Which is why I'm stranded in fucking dreamland, isn't it?"
"D-Dreamland?"
"Limbo, purgatory, the veil, whatever you want to call it. I got bored cruising around in the dark, figured I'd come crash this dream. I didn't know it was yours," She said with a note of disgust.
"A... a dream," Ethan murmured dazedly.
Suddenly, he heard it again, the bass rumble of his father's laugh. It drew him like a magnet. Instinctively, he tried to shift around the girl, but she noticed his maneuver and leaned against the door, arms crossed.
"Move," Ethan demanded.
"Yeah, I'm not done talking to you," The girl snorted.
Ethan began to feel frantic. "You need to move."
"Why?"
"Because I need to be out there! Move!"
"You don't need to be anywhere, it's a dream," She dismissed with another roll of her eyes.
"Move!"
"So have you tried to kiss me yet?" The girl replied, her voice casual, but her glance cutting.
Ethan paused, becoming aware that his breathing was galloping away from him. "W-What?"
"Well, you were hitting on me before. I figured you probably tried to get lucky right?"
Ethan could feel himself flush scarlet, though from indignation or humiliation he didn't know. "I was NOT hitting on you, I was... offering assistance. And no, I don't kiss girls in comas, but y'know, thanks for assuming!"
"Oh, seriously! You expect me to believe you didn't try to cop a feel!" The girl shot back. There was a ragged edge to her voice, something verging on tears, but Ethan barely noticed through his rage.
"No! Jesus, no!" He shouted, throwing up his hands.
"I know how it is! You get a pretty Princess in your shop, she passes out, is totally at your mercy. Figured I was public property anyhow!? Thought it was your lucky day!?"
Even high and screaming her voice was aggravatingly lovely. Her flushed face and teary eyes were still picturesquely perfect. It only threw fuel on Ethan's anger.
"LUCKY!?" He roared. A few tight, hysterical laughs bubbled out of his chest. "LUCKY!? You think it's LUCKY when a stranger passes out in your store!? You think it's LUCKY when some psychopathic fairy-lawyer from hell tells you she can do whatever she likes with your home!? You think it's LUCKY when... when everything you love could be burned to the ground tomorrow!? Is THAT your idea of LUCKY!?" Ethan buried his face in his hands, and took a few, sharp breaths before continuing. "I didn't ask for this! I didn't ask for you, or your curse, or any of this... So just... God, will you please just leave me alone and get out of the way?"
He looked at her face for the first time since he'd begun his tirade. She stared back, wide eyed, lips pursed. Her bitterness was gone, but she still remained frozen in place.
"Why do you want to get back there so bad?" She asked in a small, blank voice. "It's just your storefront. It's barely even different from when I saw it."
Ethan's patience had dissolved. Roughly, he pushed her arm aside, grasped for the doorknob.
"I need to see them," He answered flatly.
"See who?" She still stood stubbornly in the way. Ethan turned the knob, tried to prop it open.
"My parents," Ethan continued, an edge of desperation entering his voice.
"But it's just a dream-"
"I need to see them before they disappear!" Ethan cried, wrenching at the door.
He heard the girl give a small gasp, and suddenly she sprang away from the door. Ethan flung it open, heart beating wild with anticipation, but...
There was nothing.
The doorway opened into darkness. A complete and unending void.
"I... What... What happened?" Ethan whispered.
He reached out a tentative hand, pawed at the abyss beyond. He felt only dry, empty cold meeting his touch.
"They... They're gone. It's gone. Everything's gone," He intoned.
"It's just a dream," Came the girl's voice, meek, soft.
"They're gone," Ethan repeated, choking over the last syllable.
Ethan slowly backed away from the door, shut it. The endless blackness was more than he could bear. He felt tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, and shakily raised his hand to cover them. He stood in silence for what must have been a very long time, grappling with the void that swelled inside him, the echo to that dark and empty doorway.
"They aren't gone forever," The girl chimed in.
Ethan took a quick, gulping breath. "Yeah. Yeah they are," He replied thickly.
The girl didn't reply, but her silence was answer enough.
There was another long pause, as Ethan tried to collect himself, tried to just breathe. Eventually though, he couldn't ignore the feel of the girl's eyes on him. Wearily, he straightened up, turned to face her.
"What do you-"
"I'm sorry!" She blurted.
Ethan blinked.
"What?"
"I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry!" She cried. Perfect, crystalline tears began to roll down her cheeks, and Ethan dimly considered that it was almost unfair how prettily flushed her face was, compared to his doubtlessly blotchy, red eyed one. "I'm sorry about your house and your shop, and your parents... I'm sorry I was such a fucking bitch back there... I just... Oh god, I'm really, really sorry about everything!" She sobbed.
Ethan found himself in the odd position of immediately feeling guilty. Instantly all his rage and pain were forgotten as he scrambled for a way to make things right.
"Hey, no, it's okay. It's alright. I, uh... I don't mind." He stammered.
She gave a small, tinkling laugh, between gasping breaths. "You don't mind? I've fucked up your life!" She exclaimed.
"No, I mean... Kind of. But it's not your fault, and I mean... I'm sorry?"
She gave another, louder laugh. "You're sorry? Wow, Jesus, why on earth are you sorry?"
Ethan paused, trying to puzzle out an answer, brow furrowed.
"Uh, I'm sorry... that you're sorry?" He ventured.
The girl laughed again, and suddenly, like sun peeking out from behind clouds, something new, something genuine slipped out. Her laugh started musically, but a surprising, brash note snuck in, and then a small snort. It was jarring, but oddly refreshing. Ethan found himself smiling without exactly knowing why.
"I'm sorry. I don't mean to laugh at you." She began, misinterpreting Ethan's curious stare, "It's just... You really don't like crying people, do you?"
Ethan returned with a laugh of his own. "No, they kind of freak me out."
The girl smiled, and sniffling, began to swipe away her tears. "Sorry. I just... I really am sorry. About everything."
"Noted," Ethan replied with a smile.
She sighed, and the two of them regarded each other for a suddenly painfully awkward minute. Ethan cast about for what one said to a half-dead dream Princess. A question leapt into his head and he couldn't stop himself from asking it.
"Do you eat?" He blurted.
"What?" The girl looked up at him, smiling bemusedly.
"I mean, like... If you don't eat, in the real world, will you die? I should have asked the fairy god-lady or whatever but-"
"Oh. Oh no. I don't. I don't need water or anything. It's like... Magic stasis? I should be fine."
"Oh, okay, thank god. That... that would have been weird."
They both paused for a moment, no doubt musing over the undignified scenario of trying to feed a passed-out stranger. Ethan tried to push it out of his mind. He cleared his throat uncomfortably.
"Well anyhow, uh, your body is good - I mean it's okay! It's fine. It's uh, on my couch," He supplied.
"Oh, yeah, thanks. That's nice," The girl replied hurriedly, "One of... one of these?" She queried, pointing around the room.
"What? Oh! Yeah... uh, that one." Ethan answered, gesturing.
"Huh." The girl crossed over to the couch in question. Stiffly, she sat, bounced on it a few times. "Seems comfy enough. Thanks," She added with a smile.
"Yeah, no problem," Ethan smiled back nervously. Hesitant, but feeling gawky standing over her, he crossed to the couch and sat as well, taking care to seat himself on the far opposite side. "I mean. It's not exactly... uh... fit for a Princess or anything," He muttered.
The girl gave a loud snort of derision, another strange, fascinating slip of her veneer. "I would sleep on the lumpiest couches on earth if I could stop being a fucking Princess."
Ethan smiled at her nervously. "What, seriously?"
The girl nodded, her shoulders slumped. "Yeah, seriously."
"But I mean... I thought being a Princess was every girl's dream?"
The girl gave a small, bitter laugh. "Yeah, I guess. I mean, for some girls it must be. I've seen ones that seem happy enough. I mean, money, fame, a handsome husband... It sounds pretty great. Maybe I'm weird for thinking it's not, but... Jesus, it's not."
"What do you mean?"
"What do I mean!? I mean it's... It's... It's a trap, you know? It's a perversion, it's a violation, it's... It's a fucking nightmare."
"A violation?" Ethan gulped.
The girl nodded vigorously. "Yeah, you have no idea. I mean... Where do I start?" She looked down at her hands, folded in her lap, and seemed to be struck with inspiration. "Okay," She said, holding them up, "First of all. This isn't me."
"Oooo...kay?"
"This, all this," She pressed, circling her finger around her face, "This isn't what I look like. I was made to look like this."
"How do you mean... you used to look different?"
The girl nodded. "My mom tells me that when I was born, I looked like her. I had freckles, and a bigger mouth, and a different nose... But then the fucking godpeople came." She sighed.
"The fairy ones?"
"Yeah, those ones. So... Okay, you know how Princesses used to be a monarchy thing?" She enquired.
"Uh, yeah, vaguely," Ethan nodded.
"Well now it's just a random thing. Maybe because of the march of democracy or something, I don't know. All I do know, is that one day, a few months after you're born, fairy godparents just zap themselves into your fucking nursery and decide you're a Prince or a Princess. There's nothing your parents can do, nothing anybody can do, they just decide it, and that's that."
"So... just for giggles? Why do they pick who they pick?"
"I don't know. I think they have some reasoning behind it... I mean, they're like magical lawyers, you're right, they've got all these rules and regulations, they've got to have a reason, but... I don't know. Anyhow. So they decide you're a Princess and then you get blessed."
"Blessed?"
"Uh huh. You get some kind of special gift. Three of them usually. So Princes get stuff like Courage, or Strength, or Dashing, or something like that. With Princesses though, it's junk like Grace, or Poise, or Good Posture."
"That last one sounds annoying," Ethan observed.
"I know, right? At least I didn't get saddled with that one," She laughed, gesturing at her slumped frame, "And of course they're never anything useful. I could be happy with, like, Good at Math, or Tells Good Jokes or... I dunno... Remembers Birthdays Really Well."
"Talented Beekeeper," Ethan offered.
Another laugh, another slipped note. Ethan smiled.
"Yeah, why not? Anything like that. But no. Useless bullshit. And then with Princesses, one of the gifts is always Beauty." She sighed bitterly.
"Seems kinda... subjective," Ethan muttered.
"Yeah, well not to the Godparents, apparently. When a girl is gifted with Beauty, she doesn't just become a prettier version of herself, or just stays the same and everyone thinks she's beautiful... She actually physically changes. I changed. I used to look different. I used to look like my mom. Now... Now I don't know how I really look anymore. I just look like what the Godparents think is beautiful. Like... like the most baseline kind of beauty they could come up with."
"Wait... So your face-"
"Not my face. Not my original one at least."
"And your eyes?"
"Not blue. Mom thinks they might have been Hazel... I don't know." She shrugged defeatedly.
"Oh man, that's a relief!" Ethan blurted.
The girl looked at him, startled. "A relief?"
"Well, yeah, I mean..." Ethan stammered, "I just... There was something odd about you, and it was kinda freaking me out - Not that you're freaky, it's just... You looked... Uh, a little... off?"
She stared at Ethan, face unreadable. "You don't like the way I look?" She asked flatly.
"Yes! I mean no - well wait not no, but..." Ethan could almost hear the sound of a shovel pitching dirt out of his grave.
"It's okay, seriously, do you?"
Ethan gave a small, high laugh. "Uh... Well, I mean yeah, you look pretty... and everything... but it's kind of... Uh... boring? Oh wow, that came out wrong. Just not... Interesting. Wow, still wrong!"
"No no, it's okay!" She replied. Ethan was flabbergasted to find her smiling.
"I-I like your hair though. The cut I mean," He offered.
"Oh," Her smile grew, "Thanks. I cut it myself. Every day."
"Wait, what?"
"Yeah. Turns out when they make you beautiful, they want you to stay beautiful, according to their standards. So, wounds don't scar, piercings fuse up, tattoo ink beads up and falls off. And your hair just grows and grows and fucking grows."
"Holy cow, that's weird," Ethan breathed.
"Right!?" She exclaimed. "I once tried to put on purple lipstick and it melted in the tube! Doesn't do that with pink or light red. Such bullshit."
"So, you cut your hair and wear uh, Un-Princessey clothes because..."
"Because it's the only way I can be myself," She murmured quietly.
Ethan was silent for a moment. He looked at the beautiful face that wasn't hers and saw a sorrow beneath it that she seemed to own all too much.
"Jeez, that sounds... Bogus," He offered lamely.
She laughed. "Understatement of the year, but yeah. But I mean, that's not really the worst of it. Not by a longshot."
"Oh?" Ethan ventured.
"It's not enough to take your identity, they fucking own your life. From the moment you're Princessified, you belong to them. You don't get to choose where you live, where you go to school, what you want to do with your life. No, you're as good as a slave from that point on."
"Seriously?"
The girl nodded. "On your fourteenth birthday, right? The godparents show up, and give you a Curse. Something to begin your trials. Maybe you bite a bad apple, maybe you run into a vindictive goblin, maybe you drop candle wax on a bear..."
"What?"
"Don't ask. Anyhow, they give you this curse to hang over your head for the rest of your life. Once it gets activated, you're locked in. The contest for your hand starts, and congratulations, you've lost any control you had over your life. You're just fucking Prince bait from then on."
"Okay, wait, but... Why? I've been thinking this since you passed out on my floor... Why? Why bother, why all the trouble and magic and rules? Why marry off Princesses? What's the point?"
"I don't know. It seems insane, right? All this pageantry. They practically devote themselves to forcing this weird routine... Again, I mean... there's gotta be a reason. If you ask them they'll tell you it's all about True Love."
"Trademark," Ethan added absently.
"Oh my god, you got that too!?" The girl exclaimed. "It's like they own the patent on Tru Wuv or something. So fucking annoying. It's always True Love this, and True Love that. Which is bullshit. I mean, my parents met when they were in college. They both liked bad horror movies and jazz music. They traveled the world together on like, five bucks and a prayer. Dad proposed with a twist tie ring. That... That seems like True Love to me. I don't get any of that. I can't even date!"
"At all?" Ethan asked, very conscious of trying to sound casual.
"Nope. Do you know what happens if you try to kiss a Princess if you aren't a Prince?"
"No. I get the feeling it's ominous though."
"You get turned into a frog. No fucking kidding. An actual frog. One of my childhood friends found that out the hard way, got an inch away from my lips and suddenly he's hopping. I cried for like, six days before the godparents showed up and changed him back." She'd begun to talk very fast, her face flushed. Ethan began to get the sensation that she'd forgotten she was even talking to anyone else. "If anyone tried to cop a feel, my clothes go all rigid. Like steel. No matter what I wear. They refuse to come off. For like, an hour. You know how hard that makes doctor's visits? Even though Princesses never really get sick... And even when I'm naked? Anyone who comes within eyeshot is left blind and paralyzed, and it doesn't wear off until I put clothes on!"
Ethan gulped, his face burning. "Uhhhh...."
"Because GOD FORBID anyone take my chastity! No! Gotta save that for our Princes! Gotta be pure, and demure, and fucking CHASTE. I'm twenty two years old dude, and I still haven't lost my...!"
She trailed off. Ethan heard her breath go out in a little dwindling squeak. He felt her eyes on the side of his head, but he stared devoutly at the floorboards.
They sat. They fidgeted. Ethan coughed twice.
Eventually, Ethan couldn't resist sneaking a look at her face. She looked embarrassed, yes. But also a little... Worn down. A little defeated. And more than a little scared.
"Hey," Ethan said quietly, breaking the silence, "I'm, uh... Sorry. About this. That all sounds really, really awful."
She looked up, a small smile tracing her face.
"I'm sorry about your hair," He continued, "And your life, and, uh, you know... your chastity." He finished with a slight break of his voice.
She burst into giggles, and Ethan was strangely delighted to hear her little snort crop up again. He found himself grinning.
"Thanks." She replied once she'd caught her breath. "And I'm sorry too. About all the stupid shit I said, and your shop, and all the trouble I've caused," She paused, looked towards the door, "And, um... Sorry about your parents."
Ethan's smile disappeared. "Why are you sorry about that? You didn't even know them."
"Yeah, but I mean... They're gone, right?" She asked quietly.
Ethan closed his eyes. Nodded.
"And that sucks, right?"
He nodded again.
"So... I'm sorry. And I'm really sorry I stopped you from seeing them," She added, her voice heavy with sincerity.
Ethan gave her a weak smile. "Don't worry about it. It's just a dream, right?"
Another moment's silence. This time broken by the girl.
The girl smirked, a strangely incongruent expression on a Princess's face.
"Green? You own a Grocer's and your name is-?"
"Yeah yeah, hilarious right? Trust me, you haven't said anything my friend hasn't already. Repeatedly," Ethan replied with a sigh.
"Sorry," She giggled, "Uh. Well, my name's Penny."
"Penny," Ethan repeated, trying it out, "Penny what?"
She blushed. "Uh, Pierce," She mumbled.
Ethan laughed. "So wait, you're-?"
"Princess Penny Pierce." She groaned.
"Oh wow." Ethan chuckled, "And you thought my name was funny?"
"Would you believe I knew a girl whose last name was Prince? The godpeople referred to her as Princess Prince. Confused the hell out of everyone."
Both she and Ethan began to laugh, and kept laughing for longer than was truly warranted for such a small comment. They'd start to calm down, and then glance at each other and be set off all over again. On some level, Ethan understood that this was because they'd both reached a point in their stress and strangeness where they could either laugh, or cry. Laughter just seemed like the more enjoyable option.
As Ethan's giggles subsided, he looked at Penny, and suddenly saw in her... a person.
He'd seen a Pretty Girl at first, and then a Princess, and then a Pain in the Ass, but now, she was just a Person, and like that, all his awkwardness dissolved.
"Well," He smiled, extending a hand, "It's nice to meet you, Penny Pierce," He said, purposely omitting the Princess part.
She grinned back, and Ethan thought there was something fantastically crooked about it this time. "Yeah, nice to meet you too, Ethan Green," She replied sincerely.
She stretched out her hand to meet his. He felt her fingertips brush his palm.
And then everything was tangled blankets and screaming alarms.
Hey, My Book is Great and You Should Read it For Free
Hi there! I wrote a book, and I want to let you read it for free!
In The Princess and the Peaches we follow Ethan, a young man with a lot of heart, and not much spine, who is struggling to run a small failing grocery store after the untimely death of his parents. Ethan also has the misfortune of being a thoroughly Normal Guy in a world where fairytales are far more fact than fiction.
Ethan has always lived with the understanding that magic was quite firmly None of his Business, but when a wayward Princess falls victim to a curse inside his shop, he is informed by an iron-fisted Fairy Godperson that it has suddenly become Entirely his Business.
As a result, Ethan is forced to deal with flirtatious dragons, sadistic Princes, and more than a few deep seated insecurities.
So, you may be wondering, if this book is so great, why is it free? Well, because of my burning resentment for the stranglehold of capitalism on the accessibility of art. Uh, Marketing... or something. The point is, I think my book rules, and I wanted it to find people who also thought it ruled, so here it is!
You can access it on multiple e-reading platforms, including Apple and Smashwords here:
The Princess and The Peaches by Jean Forest
Or on Google Play here:
The Princess And The Peaches - Ebook written by Jean Forest. Read this book using Google Play Books app on your PC, android, iOS devices. Do
If you STILL aren't totally convinced, that's cool! I generously put the first three chapters under a read-more so you can check them out without even having to leave the safe harbor of Tumblr.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.
Book Cover by Andrew Filion
First edition, 2025
Chapter 1
It was always the same dream.
For twenty-some years Ethan Green had enjoyed placid, peaceful sleep. He'd had boring, pointless dreams and loved it. Then everything had changed, and now, for four years, it had been the same stupid nightmare, every single night. He drifted through it, carried along in its insistent, unchanging rhythm.
He passed through the living room, warm and full of light. Meandered towards the door, his stride easy and unhurried. At this point, Ethan always somehow felt calm, even eager, despite knowing how this was inevitably going to end. Reflecting on it later, he knew it made a sad kind of sense. This was the only way he could see them now.
He heard them before he'd even reached the door. Laughter so deep and loud it sounded like trains passing outside the window. Then a quiet, lilting tone, rising and falling like birdsong.
With one twist of the handle, one swing of the door, he stepped out into the bright, sun drenched storefront, and for just a brief moment, everything felt right.
Ethan's gaze traveled over the deep velvety green of the walls, the worn pine floor, dappled with light. He looked at the big, arched windows, draped in the same old green gingham curtains, heard the quiet chatter of customers, and now, just like every time, he could swear he smelled the scent of sweet, ripe peaches.
And then came the moment he always anticipated. His view swept from the windows, to the neat, trim counter waiting at the front of the store, over the battered old till, up into the lively, animated face of his father.
He was exactly the way Ethan remembered him. Big as a bear and nearly as hairy, booming with laughter, his rough, calloused fingers almost too large for the spindly keys on the register. Ethan took in his twinkling eyes and crooked grin fervently, as if to fix every minute detail in his memory.
And then there, nestled in amongst the bins and barrels of fresh fruit was his mother, as small and willowy as his father was large, but no less intimidating. Her voice was bright, her movements brisk and efficient. Ethan watched her long, elegant hands tug trimly at the curtains and found himself remembering the way they'd often done the same at the collars of his shirts.
Ethan basked in this moment, like the sight of a sunset, brief and fleeting.
Because of course, it never lasted. It started with the windows, like Every. Single. Time.
Small cracks, that began to spread, like ugly, spiraling spider webs, reaching greedily for the corners of the panes, until suddenly with a deafening crash, the air was full of cascading shards of glass.
As usual, his parents made no reaction, still cheerful, unshaken. Ethan always tried to reach them, even while knowing it was pointless.
"Dad!" He cried, working off the same unending script. "The windows! What's happening!?"
His father turned to him, a placid smile in place.
"It's alright, kiddo, don't worry. I know you can handle it." He replied in his deep, bass rumble.
Ethan stared down at his feet, shifting through the piles of shattered glass.
"But dad-"
Then the fruit would go. Where there was once jewel-bright piles of fresh, ripe produce, suddenly there would be putrid mounds of rotted fruit, their stench overpowering.
"Mom!? How did this-!?"
His mother would give him that soft, exasperated look, like he'd forgotten to comb his hair again.
"Ethan, it's okay, honey. We know you'll take care of it."
And then came the groaning, rending sound of splintering wood, and Ethan's heart would drop into his stomach. The long beams overhead would begin to tear, shaking dust from the ceiling. Every inch of the walls would begin to crack and buckle.
Ethan would look to his parents, still blissfully smiling back at him.
"Everything's falling apart! Can't you see it!? Come on, help me!" He'd cry.
"Ethan calm down," His mother would laugh, "Everything will be fine."
"Yeah kiddo," His father would add with a grin, "You'll just need to take care of it."
And like every time, Ethan would find himself brought up short, paralyzed. He'd stand in the midst of the destruction, his whole life going to ruins around him, and he'd be useless.
"You can do it." His father would add, with such perfect, maddening certainty.
"But..." Ethan muttered, as always, his voice strangely clear among the chaos. "But I don't know how."
Ethan awoke, a few seconds before his alarm, like always, just a little too late to stop it from going off. It's grating, jangling tones piercing straight into the center of Ethan's brain.
He levered himself out of bed immediately. A Green did not snooze, he told himself wearily, not when there was work to be done. Ethan had never once in his life slept past the alarm and today was no exception.
Groggily, he shuffled into the bathroom and stared at his reflection. There was that curly mop of comb-destroying hair. There were those same, tired brown eyes. A nose a little too long, a mouth a little too feminine, a frame far, far too scrawny.
Nothing new here.
He went through his usual routine, dressing in the same white shirt, and the same green slacks he wore just about every day of his adult life. He slipped on the same, stiff loafers, and then… Well, then the apron.
He'd thought he'd have gotten used to it by now. He'd seen it on his parents since he was a child. He'd worn it himself since he was a teenager. But somehow, it still managed to give him pause. Probably because it was hideous.
Family legend said that his great grandmother had chosen the color because it reminded her of springtime, of freshness. Most people Ethan knew would never in their wildest dreams have come to these associations. Looking at it, the words of Ethan's best friend ran through his head.
"If that's fresh anything, it's fresh vomit. Unhealthy vomit. Go to the doctor, something's gone wrong, vomit."
But... It had been a family tradition for generations. It was the Green family's trademark.
And so, dutifully, Ethan put it on, tying it in a tight double knot, even though it made it near impossible to get off later. It was what he always did. It was how it had always been done.
With heavy feet, he trudged downstairs, into the living room.
In truth, it looked almost no different from his dreams. Everything was still in its place, untouched, as it had been for four years now. A few low couches, huddled around the room, a tall bookshelf standing sentinel in the corner, a battered TV sitting silent nearby. The same pictures, arrayed on the mantelpiece, familiar faces staring out. It was exactly the same, an almost perfect monument to the way things used to be... except.
It was so empty. Ethan had managed to preserve every inch of the room, as though nothing had changed, but somehow, like sand slipping through his fingers, he hadn't been able to keep the life that had once existed here, the almost palpable feel of warmth and joy. Now, absence seemed to hang like dust in the air.
Well, that wasn't the only change. Slowly, Ethan made his way over to the bookshelf, and ran his fingers over the glossy, cool stone of the urn sitting high on its shelves. He muttered a quiet, customary, "Good morning." For a moment he forgot his rituals, forgot his duties, and let himself get lost.
The soft tinkle of the bell on the other side of the door jarred him out of his reverie though. There wasn't really time to pause, he reminded himself. With brisk, purposeful steps, he crossed the room and exited out of the dim, musty corners of his home, and into the bright halls of the storefront.
This too, like the living room, differed little from his dreams, although Ethan thought hopefully that the store at least, was less melancholy than the rest of the house. The soft light of sunrise was just filtering through the tall arched windows, catching in the gingham curtains, painting the pine floor.
There was no boisterous, laughing man behind the front counter though. Instead, there sat Todd... Or lounged Todd, his sandy, brush cut head lying in a nest of insultingly well muscled arms.
This too, Ethan had to concede, wasn't exactly new. Since Ethan had begun running the shop, Todd worked every morning, the same time, same as Ethan, and yet somehow stubbornly refused to adjust himself to actually being awake during sed time. And as he had every morning, Ethan considered that if Todd hadn't been his best friend, he'd probably have fired him by now. That, and he was pretty good at moving boxes.
Sighing, Ethan made his way over to the stool Todd had precariously perched himself on and gave it a lazy kick. Todd awoke with a start, scrambling to keep upright.
"Am I keeping you awake Todd?" Ethan asked with a weary smile.
"Bro, you are single handedly destroying my sleep cycle, but what else is new?" Todd replied groggily, "Why'd you wake me up? You don't even need me for anything."
"The produce shipment-" Ethan began.
"-Probably won't come until noon," Todd concluded sourly.
Ethan scowled. "You've noticed that too huh? He used to come first thing a few years ago... Now he's been coming later and later..."
"Fine by me, I'm in no hurry to play packhorse." Todd replied with a jaw cracking yawn.
"It's your job Todd. Being awake, by the way, is also your job."
"Yeah, when there's shit to do. Trust me, I'll be all over those boxes when they come. I'll hit those boxes like they owed me money. Fuckin' Prince of boxes over here. But for now, no boxes, no customers... So no Todd," He muttered, laying his head down again.
"Todd, come on man. You've gotta do something. Remember what dad used to say? If you've got time to lean-"
"- You've got time to clean, yeah I remember. And don't get me wrong bro, your dad was a regular fountain of wisdom, but it's gonna be a long friggin' day. The dust will still be there after my power nap."
Shaking his head, Ethan abandoned his efforts to rouse Todd and fetched his old push broom from its resting place nearby.
It was worn, it's bristles tattered, it's paint chipped, and it was heavier than a broom had any right to be, the shaft made of what Ethan suspected was solid metal, but it had been in the family for generations, and it fit in Ethan's hand like it was made just for him.
Wearily, he took it and made a few halfhearted swipes at the floor, but had to concede that all he was doing was likely wearing more of the already thin varnish off the boards. He'd spent most of last night aimlessly sweeping too, after all. It wasn't like there were customers to keep them busy.
Todd looked up, and seemed to notice the despondent look on Ethan's face.
"Hey man, I'm just fuckin' around. You know I'll work hard today."
"Yeah Todd, I know, I'm not really worried about you," Ethan replied quietly.
Todd stood and made his way over to Ethan, awkwardly clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry so much dude. Things will get better. Today's gonna be different! I can feel it!" Todd exclaimed with as much enthusiasm as one could have at six in the morning.
"I don't really want it to be different," Ethan sighed,"I'd rather things... went back to being the same."
Todd scowled. "Well, tough. I said today's gonna be different, and it will. You wait and see, bro."
"Alright," Ethan laughed, "If you say so."
As the day wore on, things certainly seemed far from different.
As Todd predicted, the produce shipment came extraordinarily late. True to his word, Todd tackled the task with gusto. Ethan was forced to admit, when there was actual work to be done, Todd was a model employee. It was just sheer boredom that tripped him up. Unfortunately, boredom was the one commodity they had in plenty at the store. Once the crates were squared away, the produce stocked, there was little else to be found, because as Ethan had predicted, only a few, meandering customers made their way into the store all day. Even fewer had bought anything.
As evening began to fall, Ethan gradually found that even he was running out of mindless busywork for himself, and so, he began to fall back on entertaining Todd's inane chatter.
"Hey, bro!" Todd called from the front of the store. From where Ethan stood, crowded in the far corner, surrounded by crates of fruit, he could only just make out Todd's frame leaning languidly on the counter, a newspaper in hand. "Did you read this story? The one in the paper today?"
"You mean that paper we're supposed to be selling?" Ethan sighed.
"Yeah, whatever dude, listen up. Apparently there was a dragon attack in South Mills. Isn't that crazy?"
Ethan scowled. "A dragon? An actual like... wild dragon? I thought those were pretty rare."
"Yeah, I know right? I guess it's the first attack in like, five years or something," Todd paused, laying down the paper, "Hey... do you think something like that could happen here?" He added, in a tone far more hopeful than frightened.
"Here?" Ethan didn't even give the question a moment's consideration, "No way. That stuff happens out in the country, not in the middle of downtown. Not here."
"I dunno, could happen. Oh! like I heard from my cousin’s friend's sister, there was that place down on Pine St, that mom and pop diner? Anyhow, so I guess the health inspector was due to visit, and they were freaking out because they'd never make the grade, right? And then like, overnight, they get one of those... Uh, those little bastards... What're they called? Something like food... a muffin?"
"A Brownie," Ethan supplied wearily.
"Yeah! That's the thing! Anyhow, I guess one of those moves in, and suddenly the next morning their kitchen is totally clean and up to code! So see man, that kind of thing happens around here."
Ethan shook his head. "Don't hold your breath Todd. This place isn't exactly magical."
Ethan had always been vaguely aware of Magic, in the same way one could be vaguely aware that elephants existed. It was a part of life for some people, and sometimes interesting to hear about, but Ethan sure as hell didn't want it in his shop. A Green, he could almost hear his father saying, did not rely on Magic. Hard work, courage and love had their own magic, he would state, and it was all their family ever needed. Ethan held by this attitude dutifully... Not that anything remotely Magical had ever shown up at his door. Life at the shop had been blissfully routine for years, so much so that it was almost easy to forget that Magic even existed to begin with.
"Still, it'd be cool," Todd muttered.
Ethan smirked. "What, you want a dragon to come burn the shop down?"
Todd heaved a sigh. "Well at least then I'd get weekends off..."
Ethan paused, a twinge of guilt running through him. "Look..." He began awkwardly, "I'm... I'm really sorry you've had to work so much lately. It's just, you know, money's tight... I can't really afford to hire..."
"Bro," Todd cut in with a laugh, "Shut the fuck up man. I don't care. I didn't really mean what I said, you know that."
"I... Yeah," Ethan sighed, "I just... Feel bad."
"You always feel bad. Constantly. You're like a little rain cloud of pure downer. Come on, bro, don't take me so seriously. I don't."
"Yeah okay. Just, I don't wanna be that boss, y'know?"
"You aren't dude. Calm down. Sweep or something, that'll cheer you up."
"Great advice. Thanks, Todd." Ethan shot back sarcastically.
"Anytime." Todd replied with cheerful sincerity.
Aggravatingly, as closing hour neared, Ethan really was still sweeping.
There was no real aim. He just skated his broom around the shop, letting his mind wander, trying to keep visions of red ink and out of business signs out of his head. He was startled out of these thoughts however, by a sharp jab to the back.
"Ow! F-Fudge!" He muttered.
He heard Todd creak on his stool. "The spinning wheel?" He drawled lazily.
Ethan wheeled to eye the contraption in question. "Yeah, the stupid thing."
"Goddamn, that's got to be the fifth time this week. You'd think you'd steer clear of that thing by now.”
"You'd think..." Ethan muttered darkly.
He hated that spinning wheel. Hated it. Nearly every day of his life he'd had to dodge its spindle, jutting out into the aisles, taking up precious space. But his mother, and his grandmother, and her mother before that had been enamored with it. Made the place look rustic, they'd said, homey. Made it a death trap, Ethan thought murderously to himself. But still, he couldn't bring himself to remove it. It was a part of the shop. Tradition.
He was still rubbing his sore back when the smell met his nose. He felt his stomach sink. Rotten fruit. Again. Just what he needed.
Striding over to the produce, he bent over the bin of peaches and poked at them experimentally. Their flesh gave way, revealing their slick, browning insides, releasing that same putrid odor. Ethan suppressed a groan of frustration.
"Todd!" He called.
"Yeah, what?"
"Did you forget to swap out yesterday's peaches?"
Todd poked his head down the aisle, scowling. "No man. I restocked those today, my own two hands."
"They're friggin' rotten again!"
"Again? That's weird. They looked okay when I stocked them, I guess," Todd shrugged.
"Well, they're garbage now," Ethan sighed.
Grumbling, Ethan seized a trash bag and set about the unenviable task of discarding the moldering peaches. He was so consumed by his frustration that he didn't even hear the bell tinkling on the front door. After a few minutes though, he couldn't help but notice Todd's frantic attempts to get his attention from behind the counter.
"Bro!" Todd hissed, "Bro c'mere! C'mere c'mere!"
Ethan wasn't sure why Todd was bothering to whisper, considering that he was also windmilling his arms enthusiastically. With a sigh, Ethan set down his bag and wandered over.
"What is it, Todd?" He asked wearily.
"Check it, bro. Unbelievable," Todd breathed, gesturing down the central aisle.
Ethan followed his gaze. It was a girl. That was unsurprising. Todd never hesitated to point out a shapely looking lady or two, with just as much finesse as he was doing now. Ethan usually didn't humor these gawking sessions, a little too respectful and very much too terrified to scope out women, but this time, he found he couldn't quite tear his eyes away.
She was beautiful. Radiantly, impossibly beautiful.
She was short, but not too short, perhaps a full head below Ethan. Her hair was cropped startlingly, boyishly close, but it was a color that Ethan, though a not poetic sort, could only describe as honey-gold. Though she wore loose, casual clothes; a t-shirt, jeans, a scarf hanging about her neck, she bore them as if they were the finest regalia.
She stood near the coolers, inspecting a drink, and as she moved Ethan found himself taking in even the tiniest aspects of her delicate form. She had slender, perfect fingers. Rosy, cherubic, perfect lips. A pert, perfect nose. Indeed as Ethan stared, he began to realize that just about everything on her was perfect, in a very uniform, depthless kind of way. This idea suddenly changed his awe to unnerved fixation. There was something... uncanny about her.
If you'd asked a man to describe what a perfect woman looked like, aside from her haircut and clothes, they likely would have rattled off her exact attributes. There were no flaws, no quirks, nothing curious or odd on her body anywhere. Not a single freckle, beauty mark, scar, wrinkle. She was of perfect proportion, curvaceous, but not overly so. Her ears were cute ears, her brows were cute brows. Even before he caught sight of her eyes, he could predict their color, a pure brilliant sky blue. The entire effect was one of a lovely woman, to make no mistake, but something struck him as off. She seemed so... generically gorgeous. So... homogenized.
Still, she was a girl, and she was beautiful, and so Todd's next words brought a twist to Ethan's stomach.
"Go talk to her, bro."
Ethan whirled to face Todd. "What!?" He hissed.
"Yeah, dude, go talk to her! One of us has to! We can't let a babe like that walk out the door without saying something!"
"Yes we can! And why me!?"
Todd shrugged. "I know my limits dude. A girl like that? Wouldn't say two words to me. But you've got that whole kicked-puppy thing going on. Girls love that. Go talk to her."
"I... What?"
"Besides, you deserve a break. Maybe if you got a girlfriend you'd stop moping for once."
"I am not going to go over there and hit on her!" Ethan exclaimed, a little more loudly than he'd intended. He froze, panicked for a moment. Had she heard? He snuck a glance at her, but she was still staring impassively at her drink. He could have sworn he heard a snicker though.
"Relax dude. I didn't tell you to go ask her to marry you. Just say something to her."
"Like what!?" Ethan demanded quietly.
"I don't know man, like, "Hey, need help finding anything?" At the very least you gotta go help her out. It's good customer service."
Ethan paused. In a roundabout way, Todd was right. She was a customer, and so far all he'd done was stare at her. His parents would be mortified.
"Okay, well... yeah. I'm going to go help her. But I mean... Just because it's my job," He stammered.
"Sure bro. Good luck. I'll be here, thinking up baby names for you."
Ethan scowled and shook his head, but nonetheless gathered his courage and began to approach the mystery girl. He saw her gaze slant over to him, and it hit him like an electric shock. Suddenly Ethan became painfully aware of his every flaw, and imagined a few new ones for good measure. Was he walking funny? Did he always walk like that? How did walking work again?
His suddenly stilted gait carried him to her, and as she stared up at him expectantly, he remembered that now he was supposed to talk.
"Hhhh...." He began. It was supposed to be Hi, but the I had jumped ship somewhere between his brain and his lungs. "So, can I... find... anything?"
Somewhere, in the back of his skull, a cruelly rational part of him began dissecting his sentence, and concluded that it was at least missing a verb and a pronoun. It decided that the obvious remedy to this problem was to make him blush furiously. The girl bit her lip. Ethan wasn't sure what this was supposed to mean, but he had a suspicion it meant something, in the mystic language of girl.
"Uh, yeah, no, I'm just looking at the sodas," She replied with a fluttering smile.
She had a soft, lilting voice. The kind you expected to hear raised in song. Just listening to it Ethan had the impression that pan flutes and violins were on standby.
"Oh. Okay. Sodas are... good," Ethan murmured. He could hear Todd's hand hit his forehead all the way from the front of the store.
"Yeah, uh... right. So..." The girl murmured back awkwardly.
"So..." Was all Ethan could manage to reply.
He knew this was his cue to walk away. But he just... couldn't. It was as if something intoxicating was radiating off this girl, like a perfume. It fixed him to his place, denying him the dignity of a hasty retreat. He was struggling for some kind of rational explanation for this when the girl cleared her throat.
"Look," She began. Her lyrical voice had taken on a wearied, flat tone, to very odd effect. "I'm sorry. This isn't your fault."
"Wait, what's not my fault?"
"The awkwardness."
Her bluntness was surprising, but somehow Ethan found himself laughing. "Oh. No. I'm pretty sure it's all my fault. It's kind of what I do."
The girl laughed in return, and it sounded like bells. "No, seriously though. I have this effect on everyone. It's not just you."
Ethan's mouth beat his brain. "Well, yeah, because you're gorgeous."
From the front came the distinct noise of Todd falling off his chair.
To his relief and bewilderment, she laughed again. "Uh huh. I know. It's kind of part and parcel of the whole gig. I'm, uh... Well see, I'm a Princess."
Ethan blinked. Even as his mouth was saying, "What?" His mind was quickly putting the pieces together. It made sense, actually.
Up to now, Ethan had only seen Princesses on the television, generally being paraded as some kind of prize in reality shows. The formula was always the same, a few handsome Princes, some perilous trials, and in the end, a happily ever after, or so the tabloids purported. The Princess in question had always stuck Ethan as more of a prop than a person, bubbly, vacuous, grinning glossily as men risked life and limb in the pursuit of their hands, cooing breathlessly as they were carried away into the sunset like hunted pelts on the back of some ridiculous horse. And they all looked the same. A minor variation in hair or skin color, height, features, but nearly always the same, tame, brand name beautiful. Looking at this girl now, he realized that she fit the same mold perfectly, as though she'd been crafted on the same assembly line.
At any rate, Princesses, like Magic, were something that didn't happen to Ethan Green. So despite instantly believing her confession, it took a few moments for the gears in his head to restart.
"Yeah, so, I guess it's normal that you're... y'know, staring and everything," She muttered, "It's okay. Well actually it's not okay, I mean, it's kind of a pain in the ass, but it's not like you're the only one."
Ethan shook his head. "I... I'm sorry. I just... Why are you in my shop!?" He blurted.
The Princess regarded him frostily, a strange expression on her angelic face. "Excuse me?"
"No! No no, I didn't mean that like, 'Get out of my shop or anything' it's just that... Aren't you guys usually-?"
Her expression only darkened, her long fingers gripping the top of her soda viciously. "Aren't we usually what? Fawning out windows, waiting for our Prince to come? Embroidering our wedding gowns? What are you saying, 'Shouldn't you be in your tower?!'"
"No! No, jeez, no," Ethan cried, holding his hands up placatingly, "I just... You're here, doing... Normal people stuff. I mean, Princesses aren't... Normal."
Somehow, he knew it was the wrong thing the moment he said it. Still, he didn't expect the tears that sprang up in her eyes.
"No. We're not. Thanks for reminding me." She seethed. Roughly, she jammed the soda back into the cooler, and wheeled around. Ethan expected her to storm off, but instead she froze.
"Miss? Please Miss... Uh, or your highness, or... whatever. I'm sorry." Ethan stammered out.
She didn't turn, didn't move.
"Miss? Are you alright?"
He walked as close as he dared to her. She was still fixed in place, and as Ethan watched her, he could see she was barely breathing. Baffled, he followed her gaze. She was staring, wide eyed, unblinking, at the spinning wheel.
She let out a small, defeated breath. Spoke only two words.
"Oh, fuck."
Then, moving like a woman possessed, she stepped forward, stretched out a hand, and pricked her finger on the spindle.
Then dropped like a sack of rocks.
Chapter 2
Ethan gaped for a second, staring at her sprawled body, stepping away from it like it was toxic. It took him a few seconds to find his voice. It took him longer to form actual words.
"Oh fu- Oh sh- Oh God. Oh god oh man. Ohhhhhh god oh man oh god..."
"Bro?" Came Todd's voice tentatively from the front.
"TODD!"
"Whoa, Bro, what!?" Todd called, scrambling out from behind the counter.
"TODD!" Ethan cried again, pointing to her prone body.
"OH SHIT!" Todd yelped, jumping back. "WHAT THE FUCK, BRO!? I told you to talk to her, not club her like a fucking seal!"
"I didn't! I was talking to her, and then she flipped out, and then she... died?"
"OH FUCK, IS SHE DEAD!?" Todd roared.
"I DON'T KNOW! I don't know! I don't know, I just... SEE THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I TALK TO GIRLS!"
Todd let out a small burst of hysterical laughter. "Oh shit, Bro, you're a real lady killer."
"NOT FUNNY!"
"Okay. Okay, just chill, just... Just chill," Todd took a deep breath, ran his hands through his crop of hair, "Okay. First aid right? Do we check her pulse, or... CPR? Mouth to mouth?" He offered vaguely.
"I wouldn't recommend that." Came a dry voice from behind them.
Both of them jumped. Todd let out what could only accurately be described as a squeal.
Whirling, Ethan came face to face with the most bizarre looking woman he'd ever seen in his life.
She wasn't quite young, but she wasn't quite old either. Something about her eyes suggested a certain august maturity, but her face had a glossy, flawless quality to it, not unlike the Princess. Her hair was a faint lavender, pulled into a rather intricate bun at the crown of her head. In truth, everything about her was lavender, from her severe, sensible pumps to her glittering, wire rim spectacles. She even seemed to emanate a nearly imperceptible lavender aura. Her clothes smacked of the same sickly hue. Ethan was just a bit at a loss for how to describe them though.
It looked like a pantsuit, tailored by someone given only the barest description of what that entailed, and with a fanciful imagination. Flairs and curlicues and embroideries plagued the thing. Ethan absently made out that her buttons were in fact twee little violet butterflies.
And then of course, there were the wings. Gossamer, gaudy affairs, in the same precise shade of Lavender. They reached above her head, and came to an almost menacing hooked peak. They swallow-tailed beneath her, trailing just above the ground.
Ethan absorbed all of this in just a few stunned seconds. Sheer panic made him a studious observer. As the shock wore off, he felt Todd, gripping his arm so hard he was losing sensation.
"Whathafuckisthat?" Todd squeaked.
The woman... person... thing, straightened her glasses and scowled.
"My name is Louise. I'm your Godperson attendant for this juncture," She answered. Her voice was somewhere in a bland, middle range, sterile and professional, the type of voice one chose for answering machine menus.
"Our what?" Ethan breathed.
"Here, take my card." She twiddled her fingers and in a blink of an eye a small card appeared in her hand, lavender of course. As Ethan took it, he noted absently that it gave off a strange, nauseatingly sweet smell.
"Wherethafuckyoucomefrom?" Todd cut in again.
"I teleported. Standard procedure. Much more efficient than flying," She stated as if this were self-evident, "Now, before we continue chatting, I have to observe protocol," She cleared her throat, staring Ethan square in the face. Her eyes were god damn lavender colored, "We have received notice that on these premises, a Princess has succumbed to a Curse, and as such as initiated her Trial Phase."
She had a remarkable ability for pronouncing capital letters. Everything was said with an inflection of slight annoyance.
"Uh, Miss Godperson... Louise. Ma'am. May I ask a few questions?" Ethan ventured, struggling to tread water.
"By all means."
"Okay. So. Princess?"
"Her." Louise replied flatly, pointing to the girl sprawled on the floor.
"Okay... Curse?"
"The Spinning Wheel's Spindle. A rather old fashioned method. Usually avoided nowadays, the whole Coma business can put Princes off rather a bit, but it was deemed... Necessary in her case. Nonetheless, it was rather hard to trigger. I have to say I'm grateful for your assistance in that matter."
"Assist? I didn't push her into the thing!" Ethan exclaimed.
"Of course not. It would have drawn her in the moment she saw it. All the same, I'm glad you have one lying around. They're hard to come by."
"I... Yeah, sure... Anyhow. Uh... Trial Phase?"
"Ah, now here is where we really talk business. Are you the owner of these premises?" She demanded, fixing Ethan with a piercing gaze.
For a moment, Ethan almost said no. Some part of him still knew it as his parents' house. Their shop. Their home. But no, it was only his now.
"Yes. Yes I'm the owner," He nodded.
"Well then, as such, you are required, by code, to permit the use of these premises for use in the Princess' trials, and house her person until such a time as the trials are complete and a suitable Prince has awoken her."
"Waitwaitwait," Todd chimed in, "Trials? Like... Those crazy fuckin' things we see on TV? Riding up glass hills, and slaying dragons and shit?"
Louise looked at Todd as one might regard a diseased dog. "Yes, sir. Those sorts of trials. It's customary, once a Princess enters her Trial Phase, for Princes to compete for her hand. The onus of hosting these trials always falls on the owner of the-"
"Premises the Princess conks out on," Ethan surmised.
"In the cases of Magically Induced Comas, yes," Louise agreed.
"So you're going to roost a dragon in my SHOP!?" Ethan roared.
"There's no need to become excitable," Louise huffed, "Any and all damages you suffer will be compensated for. Honestly, most people are delighted to host Trials. It can be quite lucrative, you know."
"Lucrative?" Todd mumbled.
"Indeed. If you so choose, many Media outlets are happy to televise the proceedings, and pay a handsome fee for the privilege."
"No," Ethan replied firmly.
"Are you sure? It's quite routine nowadays," Louise replied airily.
"No. No media, no money, no... No trials! I don't want this! Take the girl but leave me alone!" He cried.
A look of frosty severity crossed Louise's face, momentarily contorting it into something that appeared not entirely human. Both he and Todd backed up a step. "You Don't Have A Choice Mr. Green," She intoned, every capital crisp.
"But... But this is my shop! It's my family's shop, it's been ours for generations!" Ethan protested.
"From the minute that girl fainted on your floor, for all intents and purposes, this shop became property of Fate, Mr. Green," Louise insisted.
"You can't..."
"I can. I will. You have very little choice in the matter. What choice you do have, I suggest you exercise wisely." She put firmly. Ethan felt the argument close like a pair of iron doors. "Now, as I said, you can still make a fine profit from this venture-"
"No, I still stand by what I said. No cameras." Ethan pressed. She was right. If this was the only choice he had, he was going to make the proper one. The Greens did not indulge in spectacle. The Greens didn't caper for money. The Greens did not seek fame. These were truths Ethan understood as firmly as his own name.
"Suit yourself," Louise dismissed, "It's not required. All that is required is that you don't impede the process. Do what you like with the Princess' body. Whatever is most convenient. I warn you though, lest you get visions of glory, that kissing her would be ill advised. Or any other kind of... miscreancy with her body, but kissing will have the most adverse effects."
"I... What!? No! God no! I'm not kissing a girl in a coma!" Ethan exclaimed.
"Fuckin' right! That's creepy as balls!" Todd nodded.
"Good. See to it you maintain that attitude and I think we'll have a very amicable partnership." Louise declared cordially.
Ethan was less than reassured. He looked around his shop and fervently began to wish he really had told the Princess to get the hell out, customer service be damned.
"Oh cheer up," Louise pronounced. She sported something that it took several seconds for Ethan to realize was supposed to be a smile. "You're about to be aiding in the pursuit of True Love."
She pronounced the last two words in such a fashion that Ethan almost saw the letters TM floating after them.
"I... Okay?"
"Don't worry, dear," The endearment came off more than a little scripted, "I'll take care of the particulars. All you have to do is sit back and stay out of the way. Who knows, you may even find it entertaining."
"I... But... Okay?"
"Good lad. Now then. I have a lot of business to attend to. We must get cracking as soon as possible, very eager to wrap this case up. That being said, how does tomorrow night, around nine o'clock fetch you?"
"For what?" Ethan asked numbly.
"Well the trial of course!" Louise exclaimed, "Honestly, do keep up."
"Uh, well, it is after close," Ethan reasoned lamely.
"Lovely. Works for both of us. Good to see you're becoming more agreeable." Louise flashed another dubious smile.
"I... Yeah, no problem," Ethan replied dazedly.
"Well, if that's all that sorted, I'll be on my way. You can expect the Dragon sometime around Eight, I expect."
"The... wait, what, seriously!?" Ethan exclaimed.
"Good day!" Louise replied brightly. There was a slight flash, a small sound like rushing air, and then she was gone.
He and Todd stood stock still for what must have been minutes. When Todd finally released his grip on Ethan's arm, he left sweaty fingerprints on his shirt.
"Dragon," Ethan muttered absently, "She said Dragon."
"And you said this shit doesn't happen here!" Todd replied with a faint laugh.
"Why Dragons? Why here? Why... Why me?" Ethan whispered. He looked to Todd frantically. "Did I like, murder someone and forget about it? Kick some kittens? How did my luck get this bad!?"
"Well, you did get this chick zonked," Todd chuckled, prodding the girl with his foot.
"Don't kick her! God, what do we do with her? We can't just leave her here," Ethan moaned. Looking at her, sprawled on the hard floor, he already felt a bit guilty he'd ignored her as long as he had.
"We could prop her up in the corner, tape her eyes open, scare the shit out of shoplifters."
"Todd!"
"Alright, dude, just kidding."
"It'll have to be the couch I guess," Ethan sighed, "Come on, help me move her."
Awkwardly, Ethan bent and slipped his hands under her arms, and Todd obligingly gathered up her legs. Lifting her, Ethan found she was actually rather light. He guessed that Todd could have lifted her on his own, but it would have hurt his pride to admit he himself likely couldn't. Together, they shuffled her into the living room.
"She's not really breathing, Eh?" Todd ventured quietly.
Ethan had noticed the same thing. She looked still as death, but her skin was warm, her face rosy. "Yeah... It's creepy," He grunted as he struggled.
"Fuckin' creepy," Todd echoed.
Gesturing with his head, Ethan guided Todd over to the low, green couch set flush against the stairwell. "I don't know if her heart's beating either," He said as they laid her down.
Todd looked down at her, shook his head. "Nope. Nope I don't think it is."
Ethan shuddered. "So creepy."
Todd nodded, then considered a moment more. "Hey so... Hopefully that means she doesn't have to pee, right?"
"Oh jeez. Oh wow that's gross but, yeah."
"Or eat. Or drink or anything..."
"God, where is that stupid Fairy Godperson when you need her?" Ethan hissed.
"More like Fairy Godbitch. What a cu-"
"Todd!"
"Country fried fool, as my grandma used to say," Todd recovered.
Ethan shot him a smirk, but looking down at the stranger on his couch, he began to get the sensation that he was sliding down a very steep ravine. In actuality, it was a feeling he'd had for a very long time now, but the pace of his descent had gotten markedly faster.
"Bro? You okay?" Todd ventured quietly.
Ethan looked up, aware he'd been staring into space. "Yeah… I mean, well no, but yeah."
"I hear you. Weird fuckin' day, right?"
"Yeah, no kidding," Ethan laughed softly.
They fell into silence again for a minute. Todd seemed to become aware of his surroundings all of a sudden.
"Hey. I just realized. I haven't been back here in like, years. Man, nothing's changed," He remarked.
"Yeah," Ethan replied vaguely. He knew Todd hadn't. No one had, except for a few well-wishing aunts, uncles, cousins, but even they'd stopped visiting months ago. The Princess was the first person to make use of the couch in ages. It always felt too big to sit on alone.
"So what now man?" Todd asked hesitantly.
Ethan shrugged. "I guess... We just close up. Go to bed, right?"
"That's it? You sure I can't do anything else?"
"No. Wait, yeah," Ethan considered, "Can you... Can you get rid of that stupid spinning wheel for me? Just wrap it in a tarp and stick it in storage or something?"
Todd gaped openly, "Wait, for real?"
Ethan nodded wearily, "Uh, yeah. If it's not too much trouble."
"Hell no! I'd cart that fucking thing to an active volcano if you asked me, bro! But, I mean, I thought you wanted to keep it around. Because of... You know..."
Ethan knew. Some part of it felt like a betrayal, even thinking about discarding it. It was a piece of his memories, something his mother had been fond of… But he HATED it. The thing had stretched his tolerance just by hulking in the corner, but now it seemed it was actively trying to spite him. No more. It had to go.
"Yeah, Todd. I knew I said we should keep it around but... Well that's before I knew the thing was a friggin' Princess trap.," He laughed.
Todd chuckled in return. "It was like a freaking predator man! Waitin' for nubile young Princesses to wander into its clutches. It was probably practicing on you all these years."
"I don't look like a Princess," Ethan pouted.
"Sure, whatever you say, bro." Todd laughed. Turning, he strode on his heel, whistling cheerfully.
Chapter 3
The store closed and the spinning wheel properly squared away, Todd left, and Ethan found himself alone in his silent house.
Well not quite alone.
Standing in the living room, he caught himself staring at the Princess again. It was embarrassing, but in truth it was hard not to. Not because of her extraordinary beauty, though that was a factor, but because Ethan couldn't shake the eerie, unnatural sensation she engendered in him. His eyes fixed on her hair. It seemed... Longer somehow. He could have sworn it was just an inch when she'd walked in, but now it seemed long enough to brush her earlobes. That was impossible right?
Confounded, he let it go. He'd already been through at least four or five things he thought impossible today. What was a few extra inches of hair compared to a half-dead girl on your couch?
Wearily, he fixed himself a haphazard supper before wandering off to his bed. Slowly, he went through his morning ritual in reverse, struggling with the knot on his apron, shuffling off his shoes, combing his hair, culminating with a brief, despondent look in the mirror. Finally, he threw himself down on his bed.
Ethan's nerves were frazzled, his mind racing, but the benefit of a long day of hard work was that it was nearly impossible to suffer insomnia. Ethan had never once in his life had trouble falling asleep, and tonight was no exception.
It began the same way.
He glided into the living room, drenched with light, radiant, warm.
He headed for the doorway, eager, hopeful.
He heard their voices. Thunder and birdsong. So close and so familiar it made his heart bleed.
He reached out a hand for the doorknob and...
Suddenly, discordantly, the door flew open. A small figure pushed its way through it, walking so briskly they bumped into Ethan's chest, giving a small squeak of surprise. Baffled, Ethan looked down.
It was her.
The Princess, in all her uncanny glory. She stared up at him with her vivid blue eyes, her honey hair cropped short over her brow. Ethan stared, open mouthed at her for a long minute, his bleary mind scrabbling to understand.
"Y-you!?" He exclaimed at length.
The girl scowled up at him. Roughly, she pushed him backwards a few steps, shutting the door behind her. "Hey, douche," She replied scathingly.
Ethan tried once or twice to speak, but words wouldn't come. He grasped at his hair, frustration, panic, confusion all battling in his chest.
"What are you doing here!?" He cried, when his voice finally decided to show up.
She shrugged, avoiding his eyes. "I got bored I guess. Saw this was open. Decided to snoop."
"But... What!? How are you here, you... you're unconscious on my couch!"
The girl rolled her eyes. "Yeah. Which is why I'm stranded in fucking dreamland, isn't it?"
"D-Dreamland?"
"Limbo, purgatory, the veil, whatever you want to call it. I got bored cruising around in the dark, figured I'd come crash this dream. I didn't know it was yours," She said with a note of disgust.
"A... a dream," Ethan murmured dazedly.
Suddenly, he heard it again, the bass rumble of his father's laugh. It drew him like a magnet. Instinctively, he tried to shift around the girl, but she noticed his maneuver and leaned against the door, arms crossed.
"Move," Ethan demanded.
"Yeah, I'm not done talking to you," The girl snorted.
Ethan began to feel frantic. "You need to move."
"Why?"
"Because I need to be out there! Move!"
"You don't need to be anywhere, it's a dream," She dismissed with another roll of her eyes.
"Move!"
"So have you tried to kiss me yet?" The girl replied, her voice casual, but her glance cutting.
Ethan paused, becoming aware that his breathing was galloping away from him. "W-What?"
"Well, you were hitting on me before. I figured you probably tried to get lucky right?"
Ethan could feel himself flush scarlet, though from indignation or humiliation he didn't know. "I was NOT hitting on you, I was... offering assistance. And no, I don't kiss girls in comas, but y'know, thanks for assuming!"
"Oh, seriously! You expect me to believe you didn't try to cop a feel!" The girl shot back. There was a ragged edge to her voice, something verging on tears, but Ethan barely noticed through his rage.
"No! Jesus, no!" He shouted, throwing up his hands.
"I know how it is! You get a pretty Princess in your shop, she passes out, is totally at your mercy. Figured I was public property anyhow!? Thought it was your lucky day!?"
Even high and screaming her voice was aggravatingly lovely. Her flushed face and teary eyes were still picturesquely perfect. It only threw fuel on Ethan's anger.
"LUCKY!?" He roared. A few tight, hysterical laughs bubbled out of his chest. "LUCKY!? You think it's LUCKY when a stranger passes out in your store!? You think it's LUCKY when some psychopathic fairy-lawyer from hell tells you she can do whatever she likes with your home!? You think it's LUCKY when... when everything you love could be burned to the ground tomorrow!? Is THAT your idea of LUCKY!?" Ethan buried his face in his hands, and took a few, sharp breaths before continuing. "I didn't ask for this! I didn't ask for you, or your curse, or any of this... So just... God, will you please just leave me alone and get out of the way?"
He looked at her face for the first time since he'd begun his tirade. She stared back, wide eyed, lips pursed. Her bitterness was gone, but she still remained frozen in place.
"Why do you want to get back there so bad?" She asked in a small, blank voice. "It's just your storefront. It's barely even different from when I saw it."
Ethan's patience had dissolved. Roughly, he pushed her arm aside, grasped for the doorknob.
"I need to see them," He answered flatly.
"See who?" She still stood stubbornly in the way. Ethan turned the knob, tried to prop it open.
"My parents," Ethan continued, an edge of desperation entering his voice.
"But it's just a dream-"
"I need to see them before they disappear!" Ethan cried, wrenching at the door.
He heard the girl give a small gasp, and suddenly she sprang away from the door. Ethan flung it open, heart beating wild with anticipation, but...
There was nothing.
The doorway opened into darkness. A complete and unending void.
"I... What... What happened?" Ethan whispered.
He reached out a tentative hand, pawed at the abyss beyond. He felt only dry, empty cold meeting his touch.
"They... They're gone. It's gone. Everything's gone," He intoned.
"It's just a dream," Came the girl's voice, meek, soft.
"They're gone," Ethan repeated, choking over the last syllable.
Ethan slowly backed away from the door, shut it. The endless blackness was more than he could bear. He felt tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, and shakily raised his hand to cover them. He stood in silence for what must have been a very long time, grappling with the void that swelled inside him, the echo to that dark and empty doorway.
"They aren't gone forever," The girl chimed in.
Ethan took a quick, gulping breath. "Yeah. Yeah they are," He replied thickly.
The girl didn't reply, but her silence was answer enough.
There was another long pause, as Ethan tried to collect himself, tried to just breathe. Eventually though, he couldn't ignore the feel of the girl's eyes on him. Wearily, he straightened up, turned to face her.
"What do you-"
"I'm sorry!" She blurted.
Ethan blinked.
"What?"
"I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry!" She cried. Perfect, crystalline tears began to roll down her cheeks, and Ethan dimly considered that it was almost unfair how prettily flushed her face was, compared to his doubtlessly blotchy, red eyed one. "I'm sorry about your house and your shop, and your parents... I'm sorry I was such a fucking bitch back there... I just... Oh god, I'm really, really sorry about everything!" She sobbed.
Ethan found himself in the odd position of immediately feeling guilty. Instantly all his rage and pain were forgotten as he scrambled for a way to make things right.
"Hey, no, it's okay. It's alright. I, uh... I don't mind." He stammered.
She gave a small, tinkling laugh, between gasping breaths. "You don't mind? I've fucked up your life!" She exclaimed.
"No, I mean... Kind of. But it's not your fault, and I mean... I'm sorry?"
She gave another, louder laugh. "You're sorry? Wow, Jesus, why on earth are you sorry?"
Ethan paused, trying to puzzle out an answer, brow furrowed.
"Uh, I'm sorry... that you're sorry?" He ventured.
The girl laughed again, and suddenly, like sun peeking out from behind clouds, something new, something genuine slipped out. Her laugh started musically, but a surprising, brash note snuck in, and then a small snort. It was jarring, but oddly refreshing. Ethan found himself smiling without exactly knowing why.
"I'm sorry. I don't mean to laugh at you." She began, misinterpreting Ethan's curious stare, "It's just... You really don't like crying people, do you?"
Ethan returned with a laugh of his own. "No, they kind of freak me out."
The girl smiled, and sniffling, began to swipe away her tears. "Sorry. I just... I really am sorry. About everything."
"Noted," Ethan replied with a smile.
She sighed, and the two of them regarded each other for a suddenly painfully awkward minute. Ethan cast about for what one said to a half-dead dream Princess. A question leapt into his head and he couldn't stop himself from asking it.
"Do you eat?" He blurted.
"What?" The girl looked up at him, smiling bemusedly.
"I mean, like... If you don't eat, in the real world, will you die? I should have asked the fairy god-lady or whatever but-"
"Oh. Oh no. I don't. I don't need water or anything. It's like... Magic stasis? I should be fine."
"Oh, okay, thank god. That... that would have been weird."
They both paused for a moment, no doubt musing over the undignified scenario of trying to feed a passed-out stranger. Ethan tried to push it out of his mind. He cleared his throat uncomfortably.
"Well anyhow, uh, your body is good - I mean it's okay! It's fine. It's uh, on my couch," He supplied.
"Oh, yeah, thanks. That's nice," The girl replied hurriedly, "One of... one of these?" She queried, pointing around the room.
"What? Oh! Yeah... uh, that one." Ethan answered, gesturing.
"Huh." The girl crossed over to the couch in question. Stiffly, she sat, bounced on it a few times. "Seems comfy enough. Thanks," She added with a smile.
"Yeah, no problem," Ethan smiled back nervously. Hesitant, but feeling gawky standing over her, he crossed to the couch and sat as well, taking care to seat himself on the far opposite side. "I mean. It's not exactly... uh... fit for a Princess or anything," He muttered.
The girl gave a loud snort of derision, another strange, fascinating slip of her veneer. "I would sleep on the lumpiest couches on earth if I could stop being a fucking Princess."
Ethan smiled at her nervously. "What, seriously?"
The girl nodded, her shoulders slumped. "Yeah, seriously."
"But I mean... I thought being a Princess was every girl's dream?"
The girl gave a small, bitter laugh. "Yeah, I guess. I mean, for some girls it must be. I've seen ones that seem happy enough. I mean, money, fame, a handsome husband... It sounds pretty great. Maybe I'm weird for thinking it's not, but... Jesus, it's not."
"What do you mean?"
"What do I mean!? I mean it's... It's... It's a trap, you know? It's a perversion, it's a violation, it's... It's a fucking nightmare."
"A violation?" Ethan gulped.
The girl nodded vigorously. "Yeah, you have no idea. I mean... Where do I start?" She looked down at her hands, folded in her lap, and seemed to be struck with inspiration. "Okay," She said, holding them up, "First of all. This isn't me."
"Oooo...kay?"
"This, all this," She pressed, circling her finger around her face, "This isn't what I look like. I was made to look like this."
"How do you mean... you used to look different?"
The girl nodded. "My mom tells me that when I was born, I looked like her. I had freckles, and a bigger mouth, and a different nose... But then the fucking godpeople came." She sighed.
"The fairy ones?"
"Yeah, those ones. So... Okay, you know how Princesses used to be a monarchy thing?" She enquired.
"Uh, yeah, vaguely," Ethan nodded.
"Well now it's just a random thing. Maybe because of the march of democracy or something, I don't know. All I do know, is that one day, a few months after you're born, fairy godparents just zap themselves into your fucking nursery and decide you're a Prince or a Princess. There's nothing your parents can do, nothing anybody can do, they just decide it, and that's that."
"So... just for giggles? Why do they pick who they pick?"
"I don't know. I think they have some reasoning behind it... I mean, they're like magical lawyers, you're right, they've got all these rules and regulations, they've got to have a reason, but... I don't know. Anyhow. So they decide you're a Princess and then you get blessed."
"Blessed?"
"Uh huh. You get some kind of special gift. Three of them usually. So Princes get stuff like Courage, or Strength, or Dashing, or something like that. With Princesses though, it's junk like Grace, or Poise, or Good Posture."
"That last one sounds annoying," Ethan observed.
"I know, right? At least I didn't get saddled with that one," She laughed, gesturing at her slumped frame, "And of course they're never anything useful. I could be happy with, like, Good at Math, or Tells Good Jokes or... I dunno... Remembers Birthdays Really Well."
"Talented Beekeeper," Ethan offered.
Another laugh, another slipped note. Ethan smiled.
"Yeah, why not? Anything like that. But no. Useless bullshit. And then with Princesses, one of the gifts is always Beauty." She sighed bitterly.
"Seems kinda... subjective," Ethan muttered.
"Yeah, well not to the Godparents, apparently. When a girl is gifted with Beauty, she doesn't just become a prettier version of herself, or just stays the same and everyone thinks she's beautiful... She actually physically changes. I changed. I used to look different. I used to look like my mom. Now... Now I don't know how I really look anymore. I just look like what the Godparents think is beautiful. Like... like the most baseline kind of beauty they could come up with."
"Wait... So your face-"
"Not my face. Not my original one at least."
"And your eyes?"
"Not blue. Mom thinks they might have been Hazel... I don't know." She shrugged defeatedly.
"Oh man, that's a relief!" Ethan blurted.
The girl looked at him, startled. "A relief?"
"Well, yeah, I mean..." Ethan stammered, "I just... There was something odd about you, and it was kinda freaking me out - Not that you're freaky, it's just... You looked... Uh, a little... off?"
She stared at Ethan, face unreadable. "You don't like the way I look?" She asked flatly.
"Yes! I mean no - well wait not no, but..." Ethan could almost hear the sound of a shovel pitching dirt out of his grave.
"It's okay, seriously, do you?"
Ethan gave a small, high laugh. "Uh... Well, I mean yeah, you look pretty... and everything... but it's kind of... Uh... boring? Oh wow, that came out wrong. Just not... Interesting. Wow, still wrong!"
"No no, it's okay!" She replied. Ethan was flabbergasted to find her smiling.
"I-I like your hair though. The cut I mean," He offered.
"Oh," Her smile grew, "Thanks. I cut it myself. Every day."
"Wait, what?"
"Yeah. Turns out when they make you beautiful, they want you to stay beautiful, according to their standards. So, wounds don't scar, piercings fuse up, tattoo ink beads up and falls off. And your hair just grows and grows and fucking grows."
"Holy cow, that's weird," Ethan breathed.
"Right!?" She exclaimed. "I once tried to put on purple lipstick and it melted in the tube! Doesn't do that with pink or light red. Such bullshit."
"So, you cut your hair and wear uh, Un-Princessey clothes because..."
"Because it's the only way I can be myself," She murmured quietly.
Ethan was silent for a moment. He looked at the beautiful face that wasn't hers and saw a sorrow beneath it that she seemed to own all too much.
"Jeez, that sounds... Bogus," He offered lamely.
She laughed. "Understatement of the year, but yeah. But I mean, that's not really the worst of it. Not by a longshot."
"Oh?" Ethan ventured.
"It's not enough to take your identity, they fucking own your life. From the moment you're Princessified, you belong to them. You don't get to choose where you live, where you go to school, what you want to do with your life. No, you're as good as a slave from that point on."
"Seriously?"
The girl nodded. "On your fourteenth birthday, right? The godparents show up, and give you a Curse. Something to begin your trials. Maybe you bite a bad apple, maybe you run into a vindictive goblin, maybe you drop candle wax on a bear..."
"What?"
"Don't ask. Anyhow, they give you this curse to hang over your head for the rest of your life. Once it gets activated, you're locked in. The contest for your hand starts, and congratulations, you've lost any control you had over your life. You're just fucking Prince bait from then on."
"Okay, wait, but... Why? I've been thinking this since you passed out on my floor... Why? Why bother, why all the trouble and magic and rules? Why marry off Princesses? What's the point?"
"I don't know. It seems insane, right? All this pageantry. They practically devote themselves to forcing this weird routine... Again, I mean... there's gotta be a reason. If you ask them they'll tell you it's all about True Love."
"Trademark," Ethan added absently.
"Oh my god, you got that too!?" The girl exclaimed. "It's like they own the patent on Tru Wuv or something. So fucking annoying. It's always True Love this, and True Love that. Which is bullshit. I mean, my parents met when they were in college. They both liked bad horror movies and jazz music. They traveled the world together on like, five bucks and a prayer. Dad proposed with a twist tie ring. That... That seems like True Love to me. I don't get any of that. I can't even date!"
"At all?" Ethan asked, very conscious of trying to sound casual.
"Nope. Do you know what happens if you try to kiss a Princess if you aren't a Prince?"
"No. I get the feeling it's ominous though."
"You get turned into a frog. No fucking kidding. An actual frog. One of my childhood friends found that out the hard way, got an inch away from my lips and suddenly he's hopping. I cried for like, six days before the godparents showed up and changed him back." She'd begun to talk very fast, her face flushed. Ethan began to get the sensation that she'd forgotten she was even talking to anyone else. "If anyone tried to cop a feel, my clothes go all rigid. Like steel. No matter what I wear. They refuse to come off. For like, an hour. You know how hard that makes doctor's visits? Even though Princesses never really get sick... And even when I'm naked? Anyone who comes within eyeshot is left blind and paralyzed, and it doesn't wear off until I put clothes on!"
Ethan gulped, his face burning. "Uhhhh...."
"Because GOD FORBID anyone take my chastity! No! Gotta save that for our Princes! Gotta be pure, and demure, and fucking CHASTE. I'm twenty two years old dude, and I still haven't lost my...!"
She trailed off. Ethan heard her breath go out in a little dwindling squeak. He felt her eyes on the side of his head, but he stared devoutly at the floorboards.
They sat. They fidgeted. Ethan coughed twice.
Eventually, Ethan couldn't resist sneaking a look at her face. She looked embarrassed, yes. But also a little... Worn down. A little defeated. And more than a little scared.
"Hey," Ethan said quietly, breaking the silence, "I'm, uh... Sorry. About this. That all sounds really, really awful."
She looked up, a small smile tracing her face.
"I'm sorry about your hair," He continued, "And your life, and, uh, you know... your chastity." He finished with a slight break of his voice.
She burst into giggles, and Ethan was strangely delighted to hear her little snort crop up again. He found himself grinning.
"Thanks." She replied once she'd caught her breath. "And I'm sorry too. About all the stupid shit I said, and your shop, and all the trouble I've caused," She paused, looked towards the door, "And, um... Sorry about your parents."
Ethan's smile disappeared. "Why are you sorry about that? You didn't even know them."
"Yeah, but I mean... They're gone, right?" She asked quietly.
Ethan closed his eyes. Nodded.
"And that sucks, right?"
He nodded again.
"So... I'm sorry. And I'm really sorry I stopped you from seeing them," She added, her voice heavy with sincerity.
Ethan gave her a weak smile. "Don't worry about it. It's just a dream, right?"
Another moment's silence. This time broken by the girl.
The girl smirked, a strangely incongruent expression on a Princess's face.
"Green? You own a Grocer's and your name is-?"
"Yeah yeah, hilarious right? Trust me, you haven't said anything my friend hasn't already. Repeatedly," Ethan replied with a sigh.
"Sorry," She giggled, "Uh. Well, my name's Penny."
"Penny," Ethan repeated, trying it out, "Penny what?"
She blushed. "Uh, Pierce," She mumbled.
Ethan laughed. "So wait, you're-?"
"Princess Penny Pierce." She groaned.
"Oh wow." Ethan chuckled, "And you thought my name was funny?"
"Would you believe I knew a girl whose last name was Prince? The godpeople referred to her as Princess Prince. Confused the hell out of everyone."
Both she and Ethan began to laugh, and kept laughing for longer than was truly warranted for such a small comment. They'd start to calm down, and then glance at each other and be set off all over again. On some level, Ethan understood that this was because they'd both reached a point in their stress and strangeness where they could either laugh, or cry. Laughter just seemed like the more enjoyable option.
As Ethan's giggles subsided, he looked at Penny, and suddenly saw in her... a person.
He'd seen a Pretty Girl at first, and then a Princess, and then a Pain in the Ass, but now, she was just a Person, and like that, all his awkwardness dissolved.
"Well," He smiled, extending a hand, "It's nice to meet you, Penny Pierce," He said, purposely omitting the Princess part.
She grinned back, and Ethan thought there was something fantastically crooked about it this time. "Yeah, nice to meet you too, Ethan Green," She replied sincerely.
She stretched out her hand to meet his. He felt her fingertips brush his palm.
And then everything was tangled blankets and screaming alarms.
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Hi! I would like you to read my book. In fact I'd like you to do that so much that the e-book is literally free.
In The Princess and the Peaches we follow Ethan, a young man with a lot of heart, and not much spine, who is struggling to run a small failing grocery store after the untimely death of his parents. Ethan also has the misfortune of being a thoroughly Normal Guy in a world where fairytales are far more fact than fiction.
Ethan has always lived with the understanding that magic was quite firmly None of his Business, but when a wayward Princess falls victim to a curse inside his shop, he is informed by an iron-fisted Fairy Godperson that it has suddenly become Entirely his Business.
As a result, Ethan is forced to deal with flirtatious dragons, sadistic Princes, and more than a few deep seated insecurities.
So look, I won't insult you by trotting out all the tropes I've jammed into this baby. You're cool. We're cooler than that. However, I will say that if you're looking for a read that's fresh, and funny, I truly believe you'll enjoy my book.
Also it's free. Like seriously, no strings attached, free. It's available through these venues:
The Princess and The Peaches by Jean Forest
Google Play to follow soon!
If I still haven't convinced you, fear not! You can read the first two chapters right here, after the read-more. Now I'm gonna go, because self promotion makes me feel like I'm chewing glass.
Chapter 1
It was always the same dream.
For twenty-some years Ethan Green had enjoyed placid, peaceful sleep. He'd had boring, pointless dreams and loved it. Then everything had changed, and now, for four years, it had been the same stupid nightmare, every single night. He drifted through it, carried along in its insistent, unchanging rhythm.
He passed through the living room, warm and full of light. Meandered towards the door, his stride easy and unhurried. At this point, Ethan always somehow felt calm, even eager, despite knowing how this was inevitably going to end. Reflecting on it later, he knew it made a sad kind of sense. This was the only way he could see them now.
He heard them before he'd even reached the door. Laughter so deep and loud it sounded like trains passing outside the window. Then a quiet, lilting tone, rising and falling like birdsong.
With one twist of the handle, one swing of the door, he stepped out into the bright, sun drenched storefront, and for just a brief moment, everything felt right.
Ethan's gaze traveled over the deep velvety green of the walls, the worn pine floor, dappled with light. He looked at the big, arched windows, draped in the same old green gingham curtains, heard the quiet chatter of customers, and now, just like every time, he could swear he smelled the scent of sweet, ripe peaches.
And then came the moment he always anticipated. His view swept from the windows, to the neat, trim counter waiting at the front of the store, over the battered old till, up into the lively, animated face of his father.
He was exactly the way Ethan remembered him. Big as a bear and nearly as hairy, booming with laughter, his rough, calloused fingers almost too large for the spindly keys on the register. Ethan took in his twinkling eyes and crooked grin fervently, as if to fix every minute detail in his memory.
And then there, nestled in amongst the bins and barrels of fresh fruit was his mother, as small and willowy as his father was large, but no less intimidating. Her voice was bright, her movements brisk and efficient. Ethan watched her long, elegant hands tug trimly at the curtains and found himself remembering the way they'd often done the same at the collars of his shirts.
Ethan basked in this moment, like the sight of a sunset, brief and fleeting.
Because of course, it never lasted. It started with the windows, like Every. Single. Time.
Small cracks, that began to spread, like ugly, spiraling spider webs, reaching greedily for the corners of the panes, until suddenly with a deafening crash, the air was full of cascading shards of glass.
As usual, his parents made no reaction, still cheerful, unshaken. Ethan always tried to reach them, even while knowing it was pointless.
"Dad!" He cried, working off the same unending script. "The windows! What's happening!?"
His father turned to him, a placid smile in place.
"It's alright, kiddo, don't worry. I know you can handle it." He replied in his deep, bass rumble.
Ethan stared down at his feet, shifting through the piles of shattered glass.
"But dad-"
Then the fruit would go. Where there was once jewel-bright piles of fresh, ripe produce, suddenly there would be putrid mounds of rotted fruit, their stench overpowering.
"Mom!? How did this-!?"
His mother would give him that soft, exasperated look, like he'd forgotten to comb his hair again.
"Ethan, it's okay, honey. We know you'll take care of it."
And then came the groaning, rending sound of splintering wood, and Ethan's heart would drop into his stomach. The long beams overhead would begin to tear, shaking dust from the ceiling. Every inch of the walls would begin to crack and buckle.
Ethan would look to his parents, still blissfully smiling back at him.
"Everything's falling apart! Can't you see it!? Come on, help me!" He'd cry.
"Ethan calm down," His mother would laugh, "Everything will be fine."
"Yeah kiddo," His father would add with a grin, "You'll just need to take care of it."
And like every time, Ethan would find himself brought up short, paralyzed. He'd stand in the midst of the destruction, his whole life going to ruins around him, and he'd be useless.
"You can do it." His father would add, with such perfect, maddening certainty.
"But…" Ethan muttered, as always, his voice strangely clear among the chaos. "But I don't know how."
Ethan awoke, a few seconds before his alarm, like always, just a little too late to stop it from going off. It's grating, jangling tones piercing straight into the center of Ethan's brain.
He levered himself out of bed immediately. A Green did not snooze, he told himself wearily, not when there was work to be done. Ethan had never once in his life slept past the alarm and today was no exception.
Groggily, he shuffled into the bathroom and stared at his reflection. There was that curly mop of comb-destroying hair. There were those same, tired brown eyes. A nose a little too long, a mouth a little too feminine, a frame far, far too scrawny.
Nothing new here.
He went through his usual routine, dressing in the same white shirt, and the same green slacks he wore just about every day of his adult life. He slipped on the same, stiff loafers, and then… Well, then the apron.
He'd thought he'd have gotten used to it by now. He'd seen it on his parents since he was a child. He'd worn it himself since he was a teenager. But somehow, it still managed to give him pause. Probably because it was hideous.
Family legend said that his great grandmother had chosen the color because it reminded her of springtime, of freshness. Most people Ethan knew would never in their wildest dreams have come to these associations. Looking at it, the words of Ethan's best friend ran through his head.
"If that's fresh anything, it's fresh vomit. Unhealthy vomit. Go to the doctor, something's gone wrong, vomit."
But… It had been a family tradition for generations. It was the Green family's trademark.
And so, dutifully, Ethan put it on, tying it in a tight double knot, even though it made it near impossible to get off later. It was what he always did. It was how it had always been done.
With heavy feet, he trudged downstairs, into the living room.
In truth, it looked almost no different from his dreams. Everything was still in its place, untouched, as it had been for four years now. A few low couches, huddled around the room, a tall bookshelf standing sentinel in the corner, a battered TV sitting silent nearby. The same pictures, arrayed on the mantelpiece, familiar faces staring out. It was exactly the same, an almost perfect monument to the way things used to be… except.
It was so empty. Ethan had managed to preserve every inch of the room, as though nothing had changed, but somehow, like sand slipping through his fingers, he hadn't been able to keep the life that had once existed here, the almost palpable feel of warmth and joy. Now, absence seemed to hang like dust in the air.
Well, that wasn't the only change. Slowly, Ethan made his way over to the bookshelf, and ran his fingers over the glossy, cool stone of the urn sitting high on its shelves. He muttered a quiet, customary, "Good morning." For a moment he forgot his rituals, forgot his duties, and let himself get lost.
The soft tinkle of the bell on the other side of the door jarred him out of his reverie though. There wasn't really time to pause, he reminded himself. With brisk, purposeful steps, he crossed the room and exited out of the dim, musty corners of his home, and into the bright halls of the storefront.
This too, like the living room, differed little from his dreams, although Ethan thought hopefully that the store at least, was less melancholy than the rest of the house. The soft light of sunrise was just filtering through the tall arched windows, catching in the gingham curtains, painting the pine floor.
There was no boisterous, laughing man behind the front counter though. Instead, there sat Todd… Or lounged Todd, his sandy, brush cut head lying in a nest of insultingly well muscled arms.
This too, Ethan had to concede, wasn't exactly new. Since Ethan had begun running the shop, Todd worked every morning, the same time, same as Ethan, and yet somehow stubbornly refused to adjust himself to actually being awake during sed time. And as he had every morning, Ethan considered that if Todd hadn't been his best friend, he'd probably have fired him by now. That, and he was pretty good at moving boxes.
Sighing, Ethan made his way over to the stool Todd had precariously perched himself on and gave it a lazy kick. Todd awoke with a start, scrambling to keep upright.
"Am I keeping you awake Todd?" Ethan asked with a weary smile.
"Bro, you are single handedly destroying my sleep cycle, but what else is new?" Todd replied groggily, "Why'd you wake me up? You don't even need me for anything."
"The produce shipment-" Ethan began.
"-Probably won't come until noon," Todd concluded sourly.
Ethan scowled. "You've noticed that too huh? He used to come first thing a few years ago… Now he's been coming later and later…"
"Fine by me, I'm in no hurry to play packhorse." Todd replied with a jaw cracking yawn.
"It's your job Todd. Being awake, by the way, is also your job."
"Yeah, when there's shit to do. Trust me, I'll be all over those boxes when they come. I'll hit those boxes like they owed me money. Fuckin' Prince of boxes over here. But for now, no boxes, no customers… So no Todd," He muttered, laying his head down again.
"Todd, come on man. You've gotta do something. Remember what dad used to say? If you've got time to lean-"
"- You've got time to clean, yeah I remember. And don't get me wrong bro, your dad was a regular fountain of wisdom, but it's gonna be a long friggin' day. The dust will still be there after my power nap."
Shaking his head, Ethan abandoned his efforts to rouse Todd and fetched his old push broom from its resting place nearby.
It was worn, it's bristles tattered, it's paint chipped, and it was heavier than a broom had any right to be, the shaft made of what Ethan suspected was solid metal, but it had been in the family for generations, and it fit in Ethan's hand like it was made just for him.
Wearily, he took it and made a few halfhearted swipes at the floor, but had to concede that all he was doing was likely wearing more of the already thin varnish off the boards. He'd spent most of last night aimlessly sweeping too, after all. It wasn't like there were customers to keep them busy.
Todd looked up, and seemed to notice the despondent look on Ethan's face.
"Hey man, I'm just fuckin' around. You know I'll work hard today."
"Yeah Todd, I know, I'm not really worried about you," Ethan replied quietly.
Todd stood and made his way over to Ethan, awkwardly clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry so much dude. Things will get better. Today's gonna be different! I can feel it!" Todd exclaimed with as much enthusiasm as one could have at six in the morning.
"I don't really want it to be different," Ethan sighed, "I'd rather things… went back to being the same."
Todd scowled. "Well, tough. I said today's gonna be different, and it will. You wait and see, bro."
"Alright," Ethan laughed, "If you say so."
As the day wore on, things certainly seemed far from different.
As Todd predicted, the produce shipment came extraordinarily late. True to his word, Todd tackled the task with gusto. Ethan was forced to admit, when there was actual work to be done, Todd was a model employee. It was just sheer boredom that tripped him up.
Unfortunately, boredom was the one commodity they had in plenty at the store. Once the crates were squared away, the produce stocked, there was little else to be found, because as Ethan had predicted, only a few, meandering customers made their way into the store all day. Even fewer had bought anything.
As evening began to fall, Ethan gradually found that even he was running out of mindless busywork for himself, and so, he began to fall back on entertaining Todd's inane chatter.
"Hey, bro!" Todd called from the front of the store. From where Ethan stood, crowded in the far corner, surrounded by crates of fruit, he could only just make out Todd's frame leaning languidly on the counter, a newspaper in hand. "Did you read this story? The one in the paper today?"
"You mean that paper we're supposed to be selling?" Ethan sighed.
"Yeah, whatever dude, listen up. Apparently there was a dragon attack in South Mills. Isn't that crazy?"
Ethan scowled. "A dragon? An actual like… wild dragon? I thought those were pretty rare."
"Yeah, I know right? I guess it's the first attack in like, five years or something," Todd paused, laying down the paper, "Hey… do you think something like that could happen here?" He added, in a tone far more hopeful than frightened.
"Here?" Ethan didn't even give the question a moment's consideration, "No way. That stuff happens out in the country, not in the middle of downtown. Not here."
"I dunno, could happen. Oh! like I heard from my cousin’s friend's sister, there was that place down on Pine St, that mom and pop diner? Anyhow, so I guess the health inspector was due to visit, and they were freaking out because they'd never make the grade, right? And then like, overnight, they get one of those… Uh, those little bastards… What're they called? Something like food… a muffin?"
"A Brownie," Ethan supplied wearily.
"Yeah! That's the thing! Anyhow, I guess one of those moves in, and suddenly the next morning their kitchen is totally clean and up to code! So see man, that kind of thing happens around here."
Ethan shook his head. "Don't hold your breath Todd. This place isn't exactly magical."
Ethan had always been vaguely aware of Magic, in the same way one could be vaguely aware that elephants existed. It was a part of life for some people, and sometimes interesting to hear about, but Ethan sure as hell didn't want it in his shop. A Green, he could almost hear his father saying, did not rely on Magic. Hard work, courage and love had their own magic, he would state, and it was all their family ever needed. Ethan held by this attitude dutifully… Not that anything remotely Magical had ever shown up at his door. Life at the shop had been blissfully routine for years, so much so that it was almost easy to forget that Magic even existed to begin with.
"Still, it'd be cool," Todd muttered.
Ethan smirked. "What, you want a dragon to come burn the shop down?"
Todd heaved a sigh. "Well at least then I'd get weekends off…"
Ethan paused, a twinge of guilt running through him. "Look…" He began awkwardly, "I'm… I'm really sorry you've had to work so much lately. It's just, you know, money's tight… I can't really afford to hire…"
"Bro," Todd cut in with a laugh, "Shut the fuck up man. I don't care. I didn't really mean what I said, you know that."
"I… Yeah," Ethan sighed, "I just… Feel bad."
"You always feel bad. Constantly. You're like a little rain cloud of pure downer. Come on, bro, don't take me so seriously. I don't."
"Yeah okay. Just, I don't wanna be that boss, y'know?"
"You aren't dude. Calm down. Sweep or something, that'll cheer you up."
"Great advice. Thanks, Todd." Ethan shot back sarcastically.
"Anytime." Todd replied with cheerful sincerity.
Aggravatingly, as closing hour neared, Ethan really was still sweeping.
There was no real aim. He just skated his broom around the shop, letting his mind wander, trying to keep visions of red ink and out of business signs out of his head. He was startled out of these thoughts however, by a sharp jab to the back.
"Ow! F-Fudge!" He muttered.
He heard Todd creak on his stool. "The spinning wheel?" He drawled lazily.
Ethan wheeled to eye the contraption in question. "Yeah, the stupid thing."
"Goddamn, that's got to be the fifth time this week. You'd think you'd steer clear of that thing by now.”
"You'd think…" Ethan muttered darkly.
He hated that spinning wheel. Hated it. Nearly every day of his life he'd had to dodge its spindle, jutting out into the aisles, taking up precious space. But his mother, and his grandmother, and her mother before that had been enamored with it. Made the place look rustic, they'd said, homey. Made it a death trap, Ethan thought murderously to himself. But still, he couldn't bring himself to remove it. It was a part of the shop. Tradition.
He was still rubbing his sore back when the smell met his nose. He felt his stomach sink. Rotten fruit. Again. Just what he needed.
Striding over to the produce, he bent over the bin of peaches and poked at them experimentally. Their flesh gave way, revealing their slick, browning insides, releasing that same putrid odor. Ethan suppressed a groan of frustration.
"Todd!" He called.
"Yeah, what?"
"Did you forget to swap out yesterday's peaches?"
Todd poked his head down the aisle, scowling. "No man. I restocked those today, my own two hands."
"They're friggin' rotten again!"
"Again? That's weird. They looked okay when I stocked them, I guess," Todd shrugged.
"Well, they're garbage now," Ethan sighed.
Grumbling, Ethan seized a trash bag and set about the unenviable task of discarding the moldering peaches. He was so consumed by his frustration that he didn't even hear the bell tinkling on the front door. After a few minutes though, he couldn't help but notice Todd's frantic attempts to get his attention from behind the counter.
"Bro!" Todd hissed, "Bro c'mere! C'mere c'mere!"
Ethan wasn't sure why Todd was bothering to whisper, considering that he was also windmilling his arms enthusiastically. With a sigh, Ethan set down his bag and wandered over.
"What is it, Todd?" He asked wearily.
"Check it, bro. Unbelievable," Todd breathed, gesturing down the central aisle.
Ethan followed his gaze. It was a girl. That was unsurprising. Todd never hesitated to point out a shapely looking lady or two, with just as much finesse as he was doing now. Ethan usually didn't humor these gawking sessions, a little too respectful and very much too terrified to scope out women, but this time, he found he couldn't quite tear his eyes away.
She was beautiful. Radiantly, impossibly beautiful.
She was short, but not too short, perhaps a full head below Ethan. Her hair was cropped startlingly, boyishly close, but it was a color that Ethan, though a not poetic sort, could only describe as honey-gold. Though she wore loose, casual clothes; a t-shirt, jeans, a scarf hanging about her neck, she bore them as if they were the finest regalia.
She stood near the coolers, inspecting a drink, and as she moved Ethan found himself taking in even the tiniest aspects of her delicate form. She had slender, perfect fingers. Rosy, cherubic, perfect lips. A pert, perfect nose. Indeed as Ethan stared, he began to realize that just about everything on her was perfect, in a very uniform, depthless kind of way. This idea suddenly changed his awe to unnerved fixation. There was something… uncanny about her.
If you'd asked a man to describe what a perfect woman looked like, aside from her haircut and clothes, they likely would have rattled off her exact attributes. There were no flaws, no quirks, nothing curious or odd on her body anywhere. Not a single freckle, beauty mark, scar, wrinkle. She was of perfect proportion, curvaceous, but not overly so. Her ears were cute ears, her brows were cute brows. Even before he caught sight of her eyes, he could predict their color, a pure brilliant sky blue. The entire effect was one of a lovely woman, to make no mistake, but something struck him as off. She seemed so… generically gorgeous. So… homogenized.
Still, she was a girl, and she was beautiful, and so Todd's next words brought a twist to Ethan's stomach.
"Go talk to her, bro."
Ethan whirled to face Todd. "What!?" He hissed.
"Yeah, dude, go talk to her! One of us has to! We can't let a babe like that walk out the door without saying something!"
"Yes we can! And why me!?"
Todd shrugged. "I know my limits dude. A girl like that? Wouldn't say two words to me. But you've got that whole kicked-puppy thing going on. Girls love that. Go talk to her."
"I… What?"
"Besides, you deserve a break. Maybe if you got a girlfriend you'd stop moping for once."
"I am not going to go over there and hit on her!" Ethan exclaimed, a little more loudly than he'd intended. He froze, panicked for a moment. Had she heard? He snuck a glance at her, but she was still staring impassively at her drink. He could have sworn he heard a snicker though.
"Relax dude. I didn't tell you to go ask her to marry you. Just say something to her."
"Like what!?" Ethan demanded quietly.
"I don't know man, like, "Hey, need help finding anything?" At the very least you gotta go help her out. It's good customer service."
Ethan paused. In a roundabout way, Todd was right. She was a customer, and so far all he'd done was stare at her. His parents would be mortified.
"Okay, well… yeah. I'm going to go help her. But I mean… Just because it's my job," He stammered.
"Sure bro. Good luck. I'll be here, thinking up baby names for you."
Ethan scowled and shook his head, but nonetheless gathered his courage and began to approach the mystery girl. He saw her gaze slant over to him, and it hit him like an electric shock. Suddenly Ethan became painfully aware of his every flaw, and imagined a few new ones for good measure. Was he walking funny? Did he always walk like that? How did walking work again?
His suddenly stilted gait carried him to her, and as she stared up at him expectantly, he remembered that now he was supposed to talk.
"Hhhh…." He began. It was supposed to be Hi, but the I had jumped ship somewhere between his brain and his lungs. "So, can I… find… anything?"
Somewhere, in the back of his skull, a cruelly rational part of him began dissecting his sentence, and concluded that it was at least missing a verb and a pronoun. It decided that the obvious remedy to this problem was to make him blush furiously. The girl bit her lip. Ethan wasn't sure what this was supposed to mean, but he had a suspicion it meant something, in the mystic language of girl.
"Uh, yeah, no, I'm just looking at the sodas," She replied with a fluttering smile.
She had a soft, lilting voice. The kind you expected to hear raised in song. Just listening to it Ethan had the impression that pan flutes and violins were on standby.
"Oh. Okay. Sodas are… good," Ethan murmured. He could hear Todd's hand hit his forehead all the way from the front of the store.
"Yeah, uh… right. So…" The girl murmured back awkwardly.
"So…" Was all Ethan could manage to reply.
He knew this was his cue to walk away. But he just… couldn't. It was as if something intoxicating was radiating off this girl, like a perfume. It fixed him to his place, denying him the dignity of a hasty retreat. He was struggling for some kind of rational explanation for this when the girl cleared her throat.
"Look," She began. Her lyrical voice had taken on a wearied, flat tone, to very odd effect. "I'm sorry. This isn't your fault."
"Wait, what's not my fault?"
"The awkwardness."
Her bluntness was surprising, but somehow Ethan found himself laughing. "Oh. No. I'm pretty sure it's all my fault. It's kind of what I do."
The girl laughed in return, and it sounded like bells. "No, seriously though. I have this effect on everyone. It's not just you."
Ethan's mouth beat his brain. "Well, yeah, because you're gorgeous."
From the front came the distinct noise of Todd falling off his chair.
To his relief and bewilderment, she laughed again. "Uh huh. I know. It's kind of part and parcel of the whole gig. I'm, uh… Well see, I'm a Princess."
Ethan blinked. Even as his mouth was saying, "What?" His mind was quickly putting the pieces together. It made sense, actually.
Up to now, Ethan had only seen Princesses on the television, generally being paraded as some kind of prize in reality shows. The formula was always the same, a few handsome Princes, some perilous trials, and in the end, a happily ever after, or so the tabloids purported. The Princess in question had always stuck Ethan as more of a prop than a person, bubbly, vacuous, grinning glossily as men risked life and limb in the pursuit of their hands, cooing breathlessly as they were carried away into the sunset like hunted pelts on the back of some ridiculous horse. And they all looked the same. A minor variation in hair or skin color, height, features, but nearly always the same, tame, brand name beautiful. Looking at this girl now, he realized that she fit the same mold perfectly, as though she'd been crafted on the same assembly line.
At any rate, Princesses, like Magic, were something that didn't happen to Ethan Green. So despite instantly believing her confession, it took a few moments for the gears in his head to restart.
"Yeah, so, I guess it's normal that you're… y'know, staring and everything," She muttered, "It's okay. Well actually it's not okay, I mean, it's kind of a pain in the ass, but it's not like you're the only one."
Ethan shook his head. "I… I'm sorry. I just… Why are you in my shop!?" He blurted.
The Princess regarded him frostily, a strange expression on her angelic face. "Excuse me?"
"No! No no, I didn't mean that like, 'Get out of my shop or anything' it's just that… Aren't you guys usually-?"
Her expression only darkened, her long fingers gripping the top of her soda viciously. "Aren't we usually what? Fawning out windows, waiting for our Prince to come? Embroidering our wedding gowns? What are you saying, 'Shouldn't you be in your tower?!'"
"No! No, jeez, no," Ethan cried, holding his hands up placatingly, "I just… You're here, doing… Normal people stuff. I mean, Princesses aren't… Normal."
Somehow, he knew it was the wrong thing the moment he said it. Still, he didn't expect the tears that sprang up in her eyes.
"No. We're not. Thanks for reminding me." She seethed. Roughly, she jammed the soda back into the cooler, and wheeled around. Ethan expected her to storm off, but instead she froze.
"Miss? Please Miss… Uh, or your highness, or… whatever. I'm sorry." Ethan stammered out.
She didn't turn, didn't move.
"Miss? Are you alright?"
He walked as close as he dared to her. She was still fixed in place, and as Ethan watched her, he could see she was barely breathing.
Baffled, he followed her gaze. She was staring, wide eyed, unblinking, at the spinning wheel.
She let out a small, defeated breath. Spoke only two words.
"Oh, fuck."
Then, moving like a woman possessed, she stepped forward, stretched out a hand, and pricked her finger on the spindle.
Then dropped like a sack of rocks.
Chapter 2
Ethan gaped for a second, staring at her sprawled body, stepping away from it like it was toxic. It took him a few seconds to find his voice. It took him longer to form actual words.
"Oh fu- Oh sh- Oh God. Oh god oh man. Ohhhhhh god oh man oh god…"
"Bro?" Came Todd's voice tentatively from the front.
"TODD!"
"Whoa, Bro, what!?" Todd called, scrambling out from behind the counter.
"TODD!" Ethan cried again, pointing to her prone body.
"OH SHIT!" Todd yelped, jumping back. "WHAT THE FUCK, BRO!? I told you to talk to her, not club her like a fucking seal!"
"I didn't! I was talking to her, and then she flipped out, and then she… died?"
"OH FUCK, IS SHE DEAD!?" Todd roared.
"I DON'T KNOW! I don't know! I don't know, I just… SEE THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I TALK TO GIRLS!"
Todd let out a small burst of hysterical laughter. "Oh shit, Bro, you're a real lady killer."
"NOT FUNNY!"
"Okay. Okay, just chill, just… Just chill," Todd took a deep breath, ran his hands through his crop of hair, "Okay. First aid right? Do we check her pulse, or… CPR? Mouth to mouth?" He offered vaguely.
"I wouldn't recommend that." Came a dry voice from behind them.
Both of them jumped. Todd let out what could only accurately be described as a squeal.
Whirling, Ethan came face to face with the most bizarre looking woman he'd ever seen in his life.
She wasn't quite young, but she wasn't quite old either. Something about her eyes suggested a certain august maturity, but her face had a glossy, flawless quality to it, not unlike the Princess. Her hair was a faint lavender, pulled into a rather intricate bun at the crown of her head. In truth, everything about her was lavender, from her severe, sensible pumps to her glittering, wire rim spectacles. She even seemed to emanate a nearly imperceptible lavender aura. Her clothes smacked of the same sickly hue. Ethan was just a bit at a loss for how to describe them though.
It looked like a pantsuit, tailored by someone given only the barest description of what that entailed, and with a fanciful imagination. Flairs and curlicues and embroideries plagued the thing. Ethan absently made out that her buttons were in fact twee little violet butterflies.
And then of course, there were the wings. Gossamer, gaudy affairs, in the same precise shade of Lavender. They reached above her head, and came to an almost menacing hooked peak. They swallow-tailed beneath her, trailing just above the ground.
Ethan absorbed all of this in just a few stunned seconds. Sheer panic made him a studious observer. As the shock wore off, he felt Todd, gripping his arm so hard he was losing sensation.
"Whathafuckisthat?" Todd squeaked.
The woman… person… thing, straightened her glasses and scowled.
"My name is Louise. I'm your Godperson attendant for this juncture," She answered. Her voice was somewhere in a bland, middle range, sterile and professional, the type of voice one chose for answering machine menus.
"Our what?" Ethan breathed.
"Here, take my card." She twiddled her fingers and in a blink of an eye a small card appeared in her hand, lavender of course. As Ethan took it, he noted absently that it gave off a strange, nauseatingly sweet smell.
"Wherethafuckyoucomefrom?" Todd cut in again.
"I teleported. Standard procedure. Much more efficient than flying,"
She stated as if this were self-evident, "Now, before we continue chatting, I have to observe protocol," She cleared her throat, staring Ethan square in the face. Her eyes were god damn lavender colored, "We have received notice that on these premises, a Princess has succumbed to a Curse, and as such as initiated her Trial Phase." She had a remarkable ability for pronouncing capital letters. Everything was said with an inflection of slight annoyance.
"Uh, Miss Godperson… Louise. Ma'am. May I ask a few questions?" Ethan ventured, struggling to tread water.
"By all means."
"Okay. So. Princess?"
"Her." Louise replied flatly, pointing to the girl sprawled on the floor.
"Okay… Curse?"
"The Spinning Wheel's Spindle. A rather old fashioned method. Usually avoided nowadays, the whole Coma business can put Princes off rather a bit, but it was deemed… Necessary in her case. Nonetheless, it was rather hard to trigger. I have to say I'm grateful for your assistance in that matter."
"Assist? I didn't push her into the thing!" Ethan exclaimed.
"Of course not. It would have drawn her in the moment she saw it. All the same, I'm glad you have one lying around. They're hard to come by."
"I… Yeah, sure… Anyhow. Uh… Trial Phase?"
"Ah, now here is where we really talk business. Are you the owner of these premises?" She demanded, fixing Ethan with a piercing gaze.
For a moment, Ethan almost said no. Some part of him still knew it as his parents' house. Their shop. Their home. But no, it was only his now.
"Yes. Yes I'm the owner," He nodded.
"Well then, as such, you are required, by code, to permit the use of these premises for use in the Princess' trials, and house her person until such a time as the trials are complete and a suitable Prince has awoken her."
"Waitwaitwait," Todd chimed in, "Trials? Like… Those crazy fuckin' things we see on TV? Riding up glass hills, and slaying dragons and shit?"
Louise looked at Todd as one might regard a diseased dog. "Yes, sir. Those sorts of trials. It's customary, once a Princess enters her Trial Phase, for Princes to compete for her hand. The onus of hosting these trials always falls on the owner of the-"
"Premises the Princess conks out on," Ethan surmised.
"In the cases of Magically Induced Comas, yes," Louise agreed.
"So you're going to roost a dragon in my SHOP!?" Ethan roared.
"There's no need to become excitable," Louise huffed, "Any and all damages you suffer will be compensated for. Honestly, most people are delighted to host Trials. It can be quite lucrative, you know."
"Lucrative?" Todd mumbled.
"Indeed. If you so choose, many Media outlets are happy to televise the proceedings, and pay a handsome fee for the privilege."
"No," Ethan replied firmly.
"Are you sure? It's quite routine nowadays," Louise replied airily.
"No. No media, no money, no… No trials! I don't want this! Take the girl but leave me alone!" He cried.
A look of frosty severity crossed Louise's face, momentarily contorting it into something that appeared not entirely human. Both he and Todd backed up a step. "You Don't Have A Choice Mr. Green," She intoned, every capital crisp.
"But… But this is my shop! It's my family's shop, it's been ours for generations!" Ethan protested.
"From the minute that girl fainted on your floor, for all intents and purposes, this shop became property of Fate, Mr. Green," Louise insisted.
"You can't…"
"I can. I will. You have very little choice in the matter. What choice you do have, I suggest you exercise wisely." She put firmly. Ethan felt the argument close like a pair of iron doors. "Now, as I said, you can still make a fine profit from this venture-"
"No, I still stand by what I said. No cameras." Ethan pressed. She was right. If this was the only choice he had, he was going to make the proper one. The Greens did not indulge in spectacle. The Greens didn't caper for money. The Greens did not seek fame. These were truths Ethan understood as firmly as his own name.
"Suit yourself," Louise dismissed, "It's not required. All that is required is that you don't impede the process. Do what you like with the Princess' body. Whatever is most convenient. I warn you though, lest you get visions of glory, that kissing her would be ill advised. Or any other kind of… miscreancy with her body, but kissing will have the most adverse effects."
"I… What!? No! God no! I'm not kissing a girl in a coma!" Ethan exclaimed.
"Fuckin' right! That's creepy as balls!" Todd nodded.
"Good. See to it you maintain that attitude and I think we'll have a very amicable partnership." Louise declared cordially.
Ethan was less than reassured. He looked around his shop and fervently began to wish he really had told the Princess to get the hell out, customer service be damned.
"Oh cheer up," Louise pronounced. She sported something that it took several seconds for Ethan to realize was supposed to be a smile. "You're about to be aiding in the pursuit of True Love."
She pronounced the last two words in such a fashion that Ethan almost saw the letters TM floating after them.
"I… Okay?"
"Don't worry, dear," The endearment came off more than a little scripted, "I'll take care of the particulars. All you have to do is sit back and stay out of the way. Who knows, you may even find it entertaining."
"I… But… Okay?"
"Good lad. Now then. I have a lot of business to attend to. We must get cracking as soon as possible, very eager to wrap this case up. That being said, how does tomorrow night, around nine o'clock fetch you?"
"For what?" Ethan asked numbly.
"Well the trial of course!" Louise exclaimed, "Honestly, do keep up."
"Uh, well, it is after close," Ethan reasoned lamely.
"Lovely. Works for both of us. Good to see you're becoming more agreeable." Louise flashed another dubious smile.
"I… Yeah, no problem," Ethan replied dazedly.
"Well, if that's all that sorted, I'll be on my way. You can expect the Dragon sometime around Eight, I expect."
"The… wait, what, seriously!?" Ethan exclaimed.
"Good day!" Louise replied brightly. There was a slight flash, a small sound like rushing air, and then she was gone.
He and Todd stood stock still for what must have been minutes. When Todd finally released his grip on Ethan's arm, he left sweaty fingerprints on his shirt.
"Dragon," Ethan muttered absently, "She said Dragon."
"And you said this shit doesn't happen here!" Todd replied with a faint laugh.
"Why Dragons? Why here? Why… Why me?" Ethan whispered. He looked to Todd frantically. "Did I like, murder someone and forget about it? Kick some kittens? How did my luck get this bad!?"
"Well, you did get this chick zonked," Todd chuckled, prodding the girl with his foot.
"Don't kick her! God, what do we do with her? We can't just leave her here," Ethan moaned. Looking at her, sprawled on the hard floor, he already felt a bit guilty he'd ignored her as long as he had.
"We could prop her up in the corner, tape her eyes open, scare the shit out of shoplifters."
"Todd!"
"Alright, dude, just kidding."
"It'll have to be the couch I guess," Ethan sighed, "Come on, help me move her."
Awkwardly, Ethan bent and slipped his hands under her arms, and Todd obligingly gathered up her legs. Lifting her, Ethan found she was actually rather light. He guessed that Todd could have lifted her on his own, but it would have hurt his pride to admit he himself likely couldn't. Together, they shuffled her into the living room.
"She's not really breathing, Eh?" Todd ventured quietly.
Ethan had noticed the same thing. She looked still as death, but her skin was warm, her face rosy. "Yeah… It's creepy," He grunted as he struggled.
"Fuckin' creepy," Todd echoed.
Gesturing with his head, Ethan guided Todd over to the low, green couch set flush against the stairwell. "I don't know if her heart's beating either," He said as they laid her down.
Todd looked down at her, shook his head. "Nope. Nope I don't think it is."
Ethan shuddered. "So creepy."
Todd nodded, then considered a moment more. "Hey so… Hopefully that means she doesn't have to pee, right?"
"Oh jeez. Oh wow that's gross but, yeah."
"Or eat. Or drink or anything…"
"God, where is that stupid Fairy Godperson when you need her?" Ethan hissed.
"More like Fairy Godbitch. What a cu-"
"Todd!"
"Country fried fool, as my grandma used to say," Todd recovered.
Ethan shot him a smirk, but looking down at the stranger on his couch, he began to get the sensation that he was sliding down a very steep ravine. In actuality, it was a feeling he'd had for a very long time now, but the pace of his descent had gotten markedly faster.
"Bro? You okay?" Todd ventured quietly.
Ethan looked up, aware he'd been staring into space. "Yeah… I mean, well no, but yeah."
"I hear you. Weird fuckin' day, right?"
"Yeah, no kidding," Ethan laughed softly.
They fell into silence again for a minute. Todd seemed to become aware of his surroundings all of a sudden.
"Hey. I just realized. I haven't been back here in like, years. Man, nothing's changed," He remarked.
"Yeah," Ethan replied vaguely. He knew Todd hadn't. No one had, except for a few well-wishing aunts, uncles, cousins, but even they'd stopped visiting months ago. The Princess was the first person to make use of the couch in ages. It always felt too big to sit on alone.
"So what now man?" Todd asked hesitantly.
Ethan shrugged. "I guess… We just close up. Go to bed, right?"
"That's it? You sure I can't do anything else?"
"No. Wait, yeah," Ethan considered, "Can you… Can you get rid of that stupid spinning wheel for me? Just wrap it in a tarp and stick it in storage or something?"
Todd gaped openly, "Wait, for real?"
Ethan nodded wearily, "Uh, yeah. If it's not too much trouble."
"Hell no! I'd cart that fucking thing to an active volcano if you asked me, bro! But, I mean, I thought you wanted to keep it around. Because of… You know…"
Ethan knew. Some part of it felt like a betrayal, even thinking about discarding it. It was a piece of his memories, something his mother had been fond of… But he HATED it. The thing had stretched his tolerance just by hulking in the corner, but now it seemed it was actively trying to spite him. No more. It had to go.
"Yeah, Todd. I knew I said we should keep it around but… Well that's before I knew the thing was a friggin' Princess trap.," He laughed.
Todd chuckled in return. "It was like a freaking predator man! Waitin' for nubile young Princesses to wander into its clutches. It was probably practicing on you all these years."
"I don't look like a Princess," Ethan pouted.
"Sure, whatever you say, bro." Todd laughed. Turning, he strode on his heel, whistling cheerfully.
Good news everyone! After a harrowing ordeal where I had to write three whole emails, I finally proved to Google Play that I actually own my own content. This means that now, you can enjoy my free book, which is free, on Google Play!
The Princess And The Peaches - Ebook written by Jean Forest. Read this book using Google Play Books app on your PC, android, iOS devices. Do
Thanks everyone who has downloaded or reblogged already. Every single ounce of support is so tremendously appreciated. I hope you enjoy it!
Hi! I would like you to read my book. In fact I'd like you to do that so much that the e-book is literally free.
In The Princess and the Peaches we follow Ethan, a young man with a lot of heart, and not much spine, who is struggling to run a small failing grocery store after the untimely death of his parents. Ethan also has the misfortune of being a thoroughly Normal Guy in a world where fairytales are far more fact than fiction.
Ethan has always lived with the understanding that magic was quite firmly None of his Business, but when a wayward Princess falls victim to a curse inside his shop, he is informed by an iron-fisted Fairy Godperson that it has suddenly become Entirely his Business.
As a result, Ethan is forced to deal with flirtatious dragons, sadistic Princes, and more than a few deep seated insecurities.
So look, I won't insult you by trotting out all the tropes I've jammed into this baby. You're cool. We're cooler than that. However, I will say that if you're looking for a read that's fresh, and funny, I truly believe you'll enjoy my book.
Also it's free. Like seriously, no strings attached, free. It's available through these venues:
The Princess and The Peaches by Jean Forest
Google Play to follow soon!
If I still haven't convinced you, fear not! You can read the first two chapters right here, after the read-more. Now I'm gonna go, because self promotion makes me feel like I'm chewing glass.
Chapter 1
It was always the same dream.
For twenty-some years Ethan Green had enjoyed placid, peaceful sleep. He'd had boring, pointless dreams and loved it. Then everything had changed, and now, for four years, it had been the same stupid nightmare, every single night. He drifted through it, carried along in its insistent, unchanging rhythm.
He passed through the living room, warm and full of light. Meandered towards the door, his stride easy and unhurried. At this point, Ethan always somehow felt calm, even eager, despite knowing how this was inevitably going to end. Reflecting on it later, he knew it made a sad kind of sense. This was the only way he could see them now.
He heard them before he'd even reached the door. Laughter so deep and loud it sounded like trains passing outside the window. Then a quiet, lilting tone, rising and falling like birdsong.
With one twist of the handle, one swing of the door, he stepped out into the bright, sun drenched storefront, and for just a brief moment, everything felt right.
Ethan's gaze traveled over the deep velvety green of the walls, the worn pine floor, dappled with light. He looked at the big, arched windows, draped in the same old green gingham curtains, heard the quiet chatter of customers, and now, just like every time, he could swear he smelled the scent of sweet, ripe peaches.
And then came the moment he always anticipated. His view swept from the windows, to the neat, trim counter waiting at the front of the store, over the battered old till, up into the lively, animated face of his father.
He was exactly the way Ethan remembered him. Big as a bear and nearly as hairy, booming with laughter, his rough, calloused fingers almost too large for the spindly keys on the register. Ethan took in his twinkling eyes and crooked grin fervently, as if to fix every minute detail in his memory.
And then there, nestled in amongst the bins and barrels of fresh fruit was his mother, as small and willowy as his father was large, but no less intimidating. Her voice was bright, her movements brisk and efficient. Ethan watched her long, elegant hands tug trimly at the curtains and found himself remembering the way they'd often done the same at the collars of his shirts.
Ethan basked in this moment, like the sight of a sunset, brief and fleeting.
Because of course, it never lasted. It started with the windows, like Every. Single. Time.
Small cracks, that began to spread, like ugly, spiraling spider webs, reaching greedily for the corners of the panes, until suddenly with a deafening crash, the air was full of cascading shards of glass.
As usual, his parents made no reaction, still cheerful, unshaken. Ethan always tried to reach them, even while knowing it was pointless.
"Dad!" He cried, working off the same unending script. "The windows! What's happening!?"
His father turned to him, a placid smile in place.
"It's alright, kiddo, don't worry. I know you can handle it." He replied in his deep, bass rumble.
Ethan stared down at his feet, shifting through the piles of shattered glass.
"But dad-"
Then the fruit would go. Where there was once jewel-bright piles of fresh, ripe produce, suddenly there would be putrid mounds of rotted fruit, their stench overpowering.
"Mom!? How did this-!?"
His mother would give him that soft, exasperated look, like he'd forgotten to comb his hair again.
"Ethan, it's okay, honey. We know you'll take care of it."
And then came the groaning, rending sound of splintering wood, and Ethan's heart would drop into his stomach. The long beams overhead would begin to tear, shaking dust from the ceiling. Every inch of the walls would begin to crack and buckle.
Ethan would look to his parents, still blissfully smiling back at him.
"Everything's falling apart! Can't you see it!? Come on, help me!" He'd cry.
"Ethan calm down," His mother would laugh, "Everything will be fine."
"Yeah kiddo," His father would add with a grin, "You'll just need to take care of it."
And like every time, Ethan would find himself brought up short, paralyzed. He'd stand in the midst of the destruction, his whole life going to ruins around him, and he'd be useless.
"You can do it." His father would add, with such perfect, maddening certainty.
"But…" Ethan muttered, as always, his voice strangely clear among the chaos. "But I don't know how."
Ethan awoke, a few seconds before his alarm, like always, just a little too late to stop it from going off. It's grating, jangling tones piercing straight into the center of Ethan's brain.
He levered himself out of bed immediately. A Green did not snooze, he told himself wearily, not when there was work to be done. Ethan had never once in his life slept past the alarm and today was no exception.
Groggily, he shuffled into the bathroom and stared at his reflection. There was that curly mop of comb-destroying hair. There were those same, tired brown eyes. A nose a little too long, a mouth a little too feminine, a frame far, far too scrawny.
Nothing new here.
He went through his usual routine, dressing in the same white shirt, and the same green slacks he wore just about every day of his adult life. He slipped on the same, stiff loafers, and then… Well, then the apron.
He'd thought he'd have gotten used to it by now. He'd seen it on his parents since he was a child. He'd worn it himself since he was a teenager. But somehow, it still managed to give him pause. Probably because it was hideous.
Family legend said that his great grandmother had chosen the color because it reminded her of springtime, of freshness. Most people Ethan knew would never in their wildest dreams have come to these associations. Looking at it, the words of Ethan's best friend ran through his head.
"If that's fresh anything, it's fresh vomit. Unhealthy vomit. Go to the doctor, something's gone wrong, vomit."
But… It had been a family tradition for generations. It was the Green family's trademark.
And so, dutifully, Ethan put it on, tying it in a tight double knot, even though it made it near impossible to get off later. It was what he always did. It was how it had always been done.
With heavy feet, he trudged downstairs, into the living room.
In truth, it looked almost no different from his dreams. Everything was still in its place, untouched, as it had been for four years now. A few low couches, huddled around the room, a tall bookshelf standing sentinel in the corner, a battered TV sitting silent nearby. The same pictures, arrayed on the mantelpiece, familiar faces staring out. It was exactly the same, an almost perfect monument to the way things used to be… except.
It was so empty. Ethan had managed to preserve every inch of the room, as though nothing had changed, but somehow, like sand slipping through his fingers, he hadn't been able to keep the life that had once existed here, the almost palpable feel of warmth and joy. Now, absence seemed to hang like dust in the air.
Well, that wasn't the only change. Slowly, Ethan made his way over to the bookshelf, and ran his fingers over the glossy, cool stone of the urn sitting high on its shelves. He muttered a quiet, customary, "Good morning." For a moment he forgot his rituals, forgot his duties, and let himself get lost.
The soft tinkle of the bell on the other side of the door jarred him out of his reverie though. There wasn't really time to pause, he reminded himself. With brisk, purposeful steps, he crossed the room and exited out of the dim, musty corners of his home, and into the bright halls of the storefront.
This too, like the living room, differed little from his dreams, although Ethan thought hopefully that the store at least, was less melancholy than the rest of the house. The soft light of sunrise was just filtering through the tall arched windows, catching in the gingham curtains, painting the pine floor.
There was no boisterous, laughing man behind the front counter though. Instead, there sat Todd… Or lounged Todd, his sandy, brush cut head lying in a nest of insultingly well muscled arms.
This too, Ethan had to concede, wasn't exactly new. Since Ethan had begun running the shop, Todd worked every morning, the same time, same as Ethan, and yet somehow stubbornly refused to adjust himself to actually being awake during sed time. And as he had every morning, Ethan considered that if Todd hadn't been his best friend, he'd probably have fired him by now. That, and he was pretty good at moving boxes.
Sighing, Ethan made his way over to the stool Todd had precariously perched himself on and gave it a lazy kick. Todd awoke with a start, scrambling to keep upright.
"Am I keeping you awake Todd?" Ethan asked with a weary smile.
"Bro, you are single handedly destroying my sleep cycle, but what else is new?" Todd replied groggily, "Why'd you wake me up? You don't even need me for anything."
"The produce shipment-" Ethan began.
"-Probably won't come until noon," Todd concluded sourly.
Ethan scowled. "You've noticed that too huh? He used to come first thing a few years ago… Now he's been coming later and later…"
"Fine by me, I'm in no hurry to play packhorse." Todd replied with a jaw cracking yawn.
"It's your job Todd. Being awake, by the way, is also your job."
"Yeah, when there's shit to do. Trust me, I'll be all over those boxes when they come. I'll hit those boxes like they owed me money. Fuckin' Prince of boxes over here. But for now, no boxes, no customers… So no Todd," He muttered, laying his head down again.
"Todd, come on man. You've gotta do something. Remember what dad used to say? If you've got time to lean-"
"- You've got time to clean, yeah I remember. And don't get me wrong bro, your dad was a regular fountain of wisdom, but it's gonna be a long friggin' day. The dust will still be there after my power nap."
Shaking his head, Ethan abandoned his efforts to rouse Todd and fetched his old push broom from its resting place nearby.
It was worn, it's bristles tattered, it's paint chipped, and it was heavier than a broom had any right to be, the shaft made of what Ethan suspected was solid metal, but it had been in the family for generations, and it fit in Ethan's hand like it was made just for him.
Wearily, he took it and made a few halfhearted swipes at the floor, but had to concede that all he was doing was likely wearing more of the already thin varnish off the boards. He'd spent most of last night aimlessly sweeping too, after all. It wasn't like there were customers to keep them busy.
Todd looked up, and seemed to notice the despondent look on Ethan's face.
"Hey man, I'm just fuckin' around. You know I'll work hard today."
"Yeah Todd, I know, I'm not really worried about you," Ethan replied quietly.
Todd stood and made his way over to Ethan, awkwardly clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry so much dude. Things will get better. Today's gonna be different! I can feel it!" Todd exclaimed with as much enthusiasm as one could have at six in the morning.
"I don't really want it to be different," Ethan sighed, "I'd rather things… went back to being the same."
Todd scowled. "Well, tough. I said today's gonna be different, and it will. You wait and see, bro."
"Alright," Ethan laughed, "If you say so."
As the day wore on, things certainly seemed far from different.
As Todd predicted, the produce shipment came extraordinarily late. True to his word, Todd tackled the task with gusto. Ethan was forced to admit, when there was actual work to be done, Todd was a model employee. It was just sheer boredom that tripped him up.
Unfortunately, boredom was the one commodity they had in plenty at the store. Once the crates were squared away, the produce stocked, there was little else to be found, because as Ethan had predicted, only a few, meandering customers made their way into the store all day. Even fewer had bought anything.
As evening began to fall, Ethan gradually found that even he was running out of mindless busywork for himself, and so, he began to fall back on entertaining Todd's inane chatter.
"Hey, bro!" Todd called from the front of the store. From where Ethan stood, crowded in the far corner, surrounded by crates of fruit, he could only just make out Todd's frame leaning languidly on the counter, a newspaper in hand. "Did you read this story? The one in the paper today?"
"You mean that paper we're supposed to be selling?" Ethan sighed.
"Yeah, whatever dude, listen up. Apparently there was a dragon attack in South Mills. Isn't that crazy?"
Ethan scowled. "A dragon? An actual like… wild dragon? I thought those were pretty rare."
"Yeah, I know right? I guess it's the first attack in like, five years or something," Todd paused, laying down the paper, "Hey… do you think something like that could happen here?" He added, in a tone far more hopeful than frightened.
"Here?" Ethan didn't even give the question a moment's consideration, "No way. That stuff happens out in the country, not in the middle of downtown. Not here."
"I dunno, could happen. Oh! like I heard from my cousin’s friend's sister, there was that place down on Pine St, that mom and pop diner? Anyhow, so I guess the health inspector was due to visit, and they were freaking out because they'd never make the grade, right? And then like, overnight, they get one of those… Uh, those little bastards… What're they called? Something like food… a muffin?"
"A Brownie," Ethan supplied wearily.
"Yeah! That's the thing! Anyhow, I guess one of those moves in, and suddenly the next morning their kitchen is totally clean and up to code! So see man, that kind of thing happens around here."
Ethan shook his head. "Don't hold your breath Todd. This place isn't exactly magical."
Ethan had always been vaguely aware of Magic, in the same way one could be vaguely aware that elephants existed. It was a part of life for some people, and sometimes interesting to hear about, but Ethan sure as hell didn't want it in his shop. A Green, he could almost hear his father saying, did not rely on Magic. Hard work, courage and love had their own magic, he would state, and it was all their family ever needed. Ethan held by this attitude dutifully… Not that anything remotely Magical had ever shown up at his door. Life at the shop had been blissfully routine for years, so much so that it was almost easy to forget that Magic even existed to begin with.
"Still, it'd be cool," Todd muttered.
Ethan smirked. "What, you want a dragon to come burn the shop down?"
Todd heaved a sigh. "Well at least then I'd get weekends off…"
Ethan paused, a twinge of guilt running through him. "Look…" He began awkwardly, "I'm… I'm really sorry you've had to work so much lately. It's just, you know, money's tight… I can't really afford to hire…"
"Bro," Todd cut in with a laugh, "Shut the fuck up man. I don't care. I didn't really mean what I said, you know that."
"I… Yeah," Ethan sighed, "I just… Feel bad."
"You always feel bad. Constantly. You're like a little rain cloud of pure downer. Come on, bro, don't take me so seriously. I don't."
"Yeah okay. Just, I don't wanna be that boss, y'know?"
"You aren't dude. Calm down. Sweep or something, that'll cheer you up."
"Great advice. Thanks, Todd." Ethan shot back sarcastically.
"Anytime." Todd replied with cheerful sincerity.
Aggravatingly, as closing hour neared, Ethan really was still sweeping.
There was no real aim. He just skated his broom around the shop, letting his mind wander, trying to keep visions of red ink and out of business signs out of his head. He was startled out of these thoughts however, by a sharp jab to the back.
"Ow! F-Fudge!" He muttered.
He heard Todd creak on his stool. "The spinning wheel?" He drawled lazily.
Ethan wheeled to eye the contraption in question. "Yeah, the stupid thing."
"Goddamn, that's got to be the fifth time this week. You'd think you'd steer clear of that thing by now.”
"You'd think…" Ethan muttered darkly.
He hated that spinning wheel. Hated it. Nearly every day of his life he'd had to dodge its spindle, jutting out into the aisles, taking up precious space. But his mother, and his grandmother, and her mother before that had been enamored with it. Made the place look rustic, they'd said, homey. Made it a death trap, Ethan thought murderously to himself. But still, he couldn't bring himself to remove it. It was a part of the shop. Tradition.
He was still rubbing his sore back when the smell met his nose. He felt his stomach sink. Rotten fruit. Again. Just what he needed.
Striding over to the produce, he bent over the bin of peaches and poked at them experimentally. Their flesh gave way, revealing their slick, browning insides, releasing that same putrid odor. Ethan suppressed a groan of frustration.
"Todd!" He called.
"Yeah, what?"
"Did you forget to swap out yesterday's peaches?"
Todd poked his head down the aisle, scowling. "No man. I restocked those today, my own two hands."
"They're friggin' rotten again!"
"Again? That's weird. They looked okay when I stocked them, I guess," Todd shrugged.
"Well, they're garbage now," Ethan sighed.
Grumbling, Ethan seized a trash bag and set about the unenviable task of discarding the moldering peaches. He was so consumed by his frustration that he didn't even hear the bell tinkling on the front door. After a few minutes though, he couldn't help but notice Todd's frantic attempts to get his attention from behind the counter.
"Bro!" Todd hissed, "Bro c'mere! C'mere c'mere!"
Ethan wasn't sure why Todd was bothering to whisper, considering that he was also windmilling his arms enthusiastically. With a sigh, Ethan set down his bag and wandered over.
"What is it, Todd?" He asked wearily.
"Check it, bro. Unbelievable," Todd breathed, gesturing down the central aisle.
Ethan followed his gaze. It was a girl. That was unsurprising. Todd never hesitated to point out a shapely looking lady or two, with just as much finesse as he was doing now. Ethan usually didn't humor these gawking sessions, a little too respectful and very much too terrified to scope out women, but this time, he found he couldn't quite tear his eyes away.
She was beautiful. Radiantly, impossibly beautiful.
She was short, but not too short, perhaps a full head below Ethan. Her hair was cropped startlingly, boyishly close, but it was a color that Ethan, though a not poetic sort, could only describe as honey-gold. Though she wore loose, casual clothes; a t-shirt, jeans, a scarf hanging about her neck, she bore them as if they were the finest regalia.
She stood near the coolers, inspecting a drink, and as she moved Ethan found himself taking in even the tiniest aspects of her delicate form. She had slender, perfect fingers. Rosy, cherubic, perfect lips. A pert, perfect nose. Indeed as Ethan stared, he began to realize that just about everything on her was perfect, in a very uniform, depthless kind of way. This idea suddenly changed his awe to unnerved fixation. There was something… uncanny about her.
If you'd asked a man to describe what a perfect woman looked like, aside from her haircut and clothes, they likely would have rattled off her exact attributes. There were no flaws, no quirks, nothing curious or odd on her body anywhere. Not a single freckle, beauty mark, scar, wrinkle. She was of perfect proportion, curvaceous, but not overly so. Her ears were cute ears, her brows were cute brows. Even before he caught sight of her eyes, he could predict their color, a pure brilliant sky blue. The entire effect was one of a lovely woman, to make no mistake, but something struck him as off. She seemed so… generically gorgeous. So… homogenized.
Still, she was a girl, and she was beautiful, and so Todd's next words brought a twist to Ethan's stomach.
"Go talk to her, bro."
Ethan whirled to face Todd. "What!?" He hissed.
"Yeah, dude, go talk to her! One of us has to! We can't let a babe like that walk out the door without saying something!"
"Yes we can! And why me!?"
Todd shrugged. "I know my limits dude. A girl like that? Wouldn't say two words to me. But you've got that whole kicked-puppy thing going on. Girls love that. Go talk to her."
"I… What?"
"Besides, you deserve a break. Maybe if you got a girlfriend you'd stop moping for once."
"I am not going to go over there and hit on her!" Ethan exclaimed, a little more loudly than he'd intended. He froze, panicked for a moment. Had she heard? He snuck a glance at her, but she was still staring impassively at her drink. He could have sworn he heard a snicker though.
"Relax dude. I didn't tell you to go ask her to marry you. Just say something to her."
"Like what!?" Ethan demanded quietly.
"I don't know man, like, "Hey, need help finding anything?" At the very least you gotta go help her out. It's good customer service."
Ethan paused. In a roundabout way, Todd was right. She was a customer, and so far all he'd done was stare at her. His parents would be mortified.
"Okay, well… yeah. I'm going to go help her. But I mean… Just because it's my job," He stammered.
"Sure bro. Good luck. I'll be here, thinking up baby names for you."
Ethan scowled and shook his head, but nonetheless gathered his courage and began to approach the mystery girl. He saw her gaze slant over to him, and it hit him like an electric shock. Suddenly Ethan became painfully aware of his every flaw, and imagined a few new ones for good measure. Was he walking funny? Did he always walk like that? How did walking work again?
His suddenly stilted gait carried him to her, and as she stared up at him expectantly, he remembered that now he was supposed to talk.
"Hhhh…." He began. It was supposed to be Hi, but the I had jumped ship somewhere between his brain and his lungs. "So, can I… find… anything?"
Somewhere, in the back of his skull, a cruelly rational part of him began dissecting his sentence, and concluded that it was at least missing a verb and a pronoun. It decided that the obvious remedy to this problem was to make him blush furiously. The girl bit her lip. Ethan wasn't sure what this was supposed to mean, but he had a suspicion it meant something, in the mystic language of girl.
"Uh, yeah, no, I'm just looking at the sodas," She replied with a fluttering smile.
She had a soft, lilting voice. The kind you expected to hear raised in song. Just listening to it Ethan had the impression that pan flutes and violins were on standby.
"Oh. Okay. Sodas are… good," Ethan murmured. He could hear Todd's hand hit his forehead all the way from the front of the store.
"Yeah, uh… right. So…" The girl murmured back awkwardly.
"So…" Was all Ethan could manage to reply.
He knew this was his cue to walk away. But he just… couldn't. It was as if something intoxicating was radiating off this girl, like a perfume. It fixed him to his place, denying him the dignity of a hasty retreat. He was struggling for some kind of rational explanation for this when the girl cleared her throat.
"Look," She began. Her lyrical voice had taken on a wearied, flat tone, to very odd effect. "I'm sorry. This isn't your fault."
"Wait, what's not my fault?"
"The awkwardness."
Her bluntness was surprising, but somehow Ethan found himself laughing. "Oh. No. I'm pretty sure it's all my fault. It's kind of what I do."
The girl laughed in return, and it sounded like bells. "No, seriously though. I have this effect on everyone. It's not just you."
Ethan's mouth beat his brain. "Well, yeah, because you're gorgeous."
From the front came the distinct noise of Todd falling off his chair.
To his relief and bewilderment, she laughed again. "Uh huh. I know. It's kind of part and parcel of the whole gig. I'm, uh… Well see, I'm a Princess."
Ethan blinked. Even as his mouth was saying, "What?" His mind was quickly putting the pieces together. It made sense, actually.
Up to now, Ethan had only seen Princesses on the television, generally being paraded as some kind of prize in reality shows. The formula was always the same, a few handsome Princes, some perilous trials, and in the end, a happily ever after, or so the tabloids purported. The Princess in question had always stuck Ethan as more of a prop than a person, bubbly, vacuous, grinning glossily as men risked life and limb in the pursuit of their hands, cooing breathlessly as they were carried away into the sunset like hunted pelts on the back of some ridiculous horse. And they all looked the same. A minor variation in hair or skin color, height, features, but nearly always the same, tame, brand name beautiful. Looking at this girl now, he realized that she fit the same mold perfectly, as though she'd been crafted on the same assembly line.
At any rate, Princesses, like Magic, were something that didn't happen to Ethan Green. So despite instantly believing her confession, it took a few moments for the gears in his head to restart.
"Yeah, so, I guess it's normal that you're… y'know, staring and everything," She muttered, "It's okay. Well actually it's not okay, I mean, it's kind of a pain in the ass, but it's not like you're the only one."
Ethan shook his head. "I… I'm sorry. I just… Why are you in my shop!?" He blurted.
The Princess regarded him frostily, a strange expression on her angelic face. "Excuse me?"
"No! No no, I didn't mean that like, 'Get out of my shop or anything' it's just that… Aren't you guys usually-?"
Her expression only darkened, her long fingers gripping the top of her soda viciously. "Aren't we usually what? Fawning out windows, waiting for our Prince to come? Embroidering our wedding gowns? What are you saying, 'Shouldn't you be in your tower?!'"
"No! No, jeez, no," Ethan cried, holding his hands up placatingly, "I just… You're here, doing… Normal people stuff. I mean, Princesses aren't… Normal."
Somehow, he knew it was the wrong thing the moment he said it. Still, he didn't expect the tears that sprang up in her eyes.
"No. We're not. Thanks for reminding me." She seethed. Roughly, she jammed the soda back into the cooler, and wheeled around. Ethan expected her to storm off, but instead she froze.
"Miss? Please Miss… Uh, or your highness, or… whatever. I'm sorry." Ethan stammered out.
She didn't turn, didn't move.
"Miss? Are you alright?"
He walked as close as he dared to her. She was still fixed in place, and as Ethan watched her, he could see she was barely breathing.
Baffled, he followed her gaze. She was staring, wide eyed, unblinking, at the spinning wheel.
She let out a small, defeated breath. Spoke only two words.
"Oh, fuck."
Then, moving like a woman possessed, she stepped forward, stretched out a hand, and pricked her finger on the spindle.
Then dropped like a sack of rocks.
Chapter 2
Ethan gaped for a second, staring at her sprawled body, stepping away from it like it was toxic. It took him a few seconds to find his voice. It took him longer to form actual words.
"Oh fu- Oh sh- Oh God. Oh god oh man. Ohhhhhh god oh man oh god…"
"Bro?" Came Todd's voice tentatively from the front.
"TODD!"
"Whoa, Bro, what!?" Todd called, scrambling out from behind the counter.
"TODD!" Ethan cried again, pointing to her prone body.
"OH SHIT!" Todd yelped, jumping back. "WHAT THE FUCK, BRO!? I told you to talk to her, not club her like a fucking seal!"
"I didn't! I was talking to her, and then she flipped out, and then she… died?"
"OH FUCK, IS SHE DEAD!?" Todd roared.
"I DON'T KNOW! I don't know! I don't know, I just… SEE THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I TALK TO GIRLS!"
Todd let out a small burst of hysterical laughter. "Oh shit, Bro, you're a real lady killer."
"NOT FUNNY!"
"Okay. Okay, just chill, just… Just chill," Todd took a deep breath, ran his hands through his crop of hair, "Okay. First aid right? Do we check her pulse, or… CPR? Mouth to mouth?" He offered vaguely.
"I wouldn't recommend that." Came a dry voice from behind them.
Both of them jumped. Todd let out what could only accurately be described as a squeal.
Whirling, Ethan came face to face with the most bizarre looking woman he'd ever seen in his life.
She wasn't quite young, but she wasn't quite old either. Something about her eyes suggested a certain august maturity, but her face had a glossy, flawless quality to it, not unlike the Princess. Her hair was a faint lavender, pulled into a rather intricate bun at the crown of her head. In truth, everything about her was lavender, from her severe, sensible pumps to her glittering, wire rim spectacles. She even seemed to emanate a nearly imperceptible lavender aura. Her clothes smacked of the same sickly hue. Ethan was just a bit at a loss for how to describe them though.
It looked like a pantsuit, tailored by someone given only the barest description of what that entailed, and with a fanciful imagination. Flairs and curlicues and embroideries plagued the thing. Ethan absently made out that her buttons were in fact twee little violet butterflies.
And then of course, there were the wings. Gossamer, gaudy affairs, in the same precise shade of Lavender. They reached above her head, and came to an almost menacing hooked peak. They swallow-tailed beneath her, trailing just above the ground.
Ethan absorbed all of this in just a few stunned seconds. Sheer panic made him a studious observer. As the shock wore off, he felt Todd, gripping his arm so hard he was losing sensation.
"Whathafuckisthat?" Todd squeaked.
The woman… person… thing, straightened her glasses and scowled.
"My name is Louise. I'm your Godperson attendant for this juncture," She answered. Her voice was somewhere in a bland, middle range, sterile and professional, the type of voice one chose for answering machine menus.
"Our what?" Ethan breathed.
"Here, take my card." She twiddled her fingers and in a blink of an eye a small card appeared in her hand, lavender of course. As Ethan took it, he noted absently that it gave off a strange, nauseatingly sweet smell.
"Wherethafuckyoucomefrom?" Todd cut in again.
"I teleported. Standard procedure. Much more efficient than flying,"
She stated as if this were self-evident, "Now, before we continue chatting, I have to observe protocol," She cleared her throat, staring Ethan square in the face. Her eyes were god damn lavender colored, "We have received notice that on these premises, a Princess has succumbed to a Curse, and as such as initiated her Trial Phase." She had a remarkable ability for pronouncing capital letters. Everything was said with an inflection of slight annoyance.
"Uh, Miss Godperson… Louise. Ma'am. May I ask a few questions?" Ethan ventured, struggling to tread water.
"By all means."
"Okay. So. Princess?"
"Her." Louise replied flatly, pointing to the girl sprawled on the floor.
"Okay… Curse?"
"The Spinning Wheel's Spindle. A rather old fashioned method. Usually avoided nowadays, the whole Coma business can put Princes off rather a bit, but it was deemed… Necessary in her case. Nonetheless, it was rather hard to trigger. I have to say I'm grateful for your assistance in that matter."
"Assist? I didn't push her into the thing!" Ethan exclaimed.
"Of course not. It would have drawn her in the moment she saw it. All the same, I'm glad you have one lying around. They're hard to come by."
"I… Yeah, sure… Anyhow. Uh… Trial Phase?"
"Ah, now here is where we really talk business. Are you the owner of these premises?" She demanded, fixing Ethan with a piercing gaze.
For a moment, Ethan almost said no. Some part of him still knew it as his parents' house. Their shop. Their home. But no, it was only his now.
"Yes. Yes I'm the owner," He nodded.
"Well then, as such, you are required, by code, to permit the use of these premises for use in the Princess' trials, and house her person until such a time as the trials are complete and a suitable Prince has awoken her."
"Waitwaitwait," Todd chimed in, "Trials? Like… Those crazy fuckin' things we see on TV? Riding up glass hills, and slaying dragons and shit?"
Louise looked at Todd as one might regard a diseased dog. "Yes, sir. Those sorts of trials. It's customary, once a Princess enters her Trial Phase, for Princes to compete for her hand. The onus of hosting these trials always falls on the owner of the-"
"Premises the Princess conks out on," Ethan surmised.
"In the cases of Magically Induced Comas, yes," Louise agreed.
"So you're going to roost a dragon in my SHOP!?" Ethan roared.
"There's no need to become excitable," Louise huffed, "Any and all damages you suffer will be compensated for. Honestly, most people are delighted to host Trials. It can be quite lucrative, you know."
"Lucrative?" Todd mumbled.
"Indeed. If you so choose, many Media outlets are happy to televise the proceedings, and pay a handsome fee for the privilege."
"No," Ethan replied firmly.
"Are you sure? It's quite routine nowadays," Louise replied airily.
"No. No media, no money, no… No trials! I don't want this! Take the girl but leave me alone!" He cried.
A look of frosty severity crossed Louise's face, momentarily contorting it into something that appeared not entirely human. Both he and Todd backed up a step. "You Don't Have A Choice Mr. Green," She intoned, every capital crisp.
"But… But this is my shop! It's my family's shop, it's been ours for generations!" Ethan protested.
"From the minute that girl fainted on your floor, for all intents and purposes, this shop became property of Fate, Mr. Green," Louise insisted.
"You can't…"
"I can. I will. You have very little choice in the matter. What choice you do have, I suggest you exercise wisely." She put firmly. Ethan felt the argument close like a pair of iron doors. "Now, as I said, you can still make a fine profit from this venture-"
"No, I still stand by what I said. No cameras." Ethan pressed. She was right. If this was the only choice he had, he was going to make the proper one. The Greens did not indulge in spectacle. The Greens didn't caper for money. The Greens did not seek fame. These were truths Ethan understood as firmly as his own name.
"Suit yourself," Louise dismissed, "It's not required. All that is required is that you don't impede the process. Do what you like with the Princess' body. Whatever is most convenient. I warn you though, lest you get visions of glory, that kissing her would be ill advised. Or any other kind of… miscreancy with her body, but kissing will have the most adverse effects."
"I… What!? No! God no! I'm not kissing a girl in a coma!" Ethan exclaimed.
"Fuckin' right! That's creepy as balls!" Todd nodded.
"Good. See to it you maintain that attitude and I think we'll have a very amicable partnership." Louise declared cordially.
Ethan was less than reassured. He looked around his shop and fervently began to wish he really had told the Princess to get the hell out, customer service be damned.
"Oh cheer up," Louise pronounced. She sported something that it took several seconds for Ethan to realize was supposed to be a smile. "You're about to be aiding in the pursuit of True Love."
She pronounced the last two words in such a fashion that Ethan almost saw the letters TM floating after them.
"I… Okay?"
"Don't worry, dear," The endearment came off more than a little scripted, "I'll take care of the particulars. All you have to do is sit back and stay out of the way. Who knows, you may even find it entertaining."
"I… But… Okay?"
"Good lad. Now then. I have a lot of business to attend to. We must get cracking as soon as possible, very eager to wrap this case up. That being said, how does tomorrow night, around nine o'clock fetch you?"
"For what?" Ethan asked numbly.
"Well the trial of course!" Louise exclaimed, "Honestly, do keep up."
"Uh, well, it is after close," Ethan reasoned lamely.
"Lovely. Works for both of us. Good to see you're becoming more agreeable." Louise flashed another dubious smile.
"I… Yeah, no problem," Ethan replied dazedly.
"Well, if that's all that sorted, I'll be on my way. You can expect the Dragon sometime around Eight, I expect."
"The… wait, what, seriously!?" Ethan exclaimed.
"Good day!" Louise replied brightly. There was a slight flash, a small sound like rushing air, and then she was gone.
He and Todd stood stock still for what must have been minutes. When Todd finally released his grip on Ethan's arm, he left sweaty fingerprints on his shirt.
"Dragon," Ethan muttered absently, "She said Dragon."
"And you said this shit doesn't happen here!" Todd replied with a faint laugh.
"Why Dragons? Why here? Why… Why me?" Ethan whispered. He looked to Todd frantically. "Did I like, murder someone and forget about it? Kick some kittens? How did my luck get this bad!?"
"Well, you did get this chick zonked," Todd chuckled, prodding the girl with his foot.
"Don't kick her! God, what do we do with her? We can't just leave her here," Ethan moaned. Looking at her, sprawled on the hard floor, he already felt a bit guilty he'd ignored her as long as he had.
"We could prop her up in the corner, tape her eyes open, scare the shit out of shoplifters."
"Todd!"
"Alright, dude, just kidding."
"It'll have to be the couch I guess," Ethan sighed, "Come on, help me move her."
Awkwardly, Ethan bent and slipped his hands under her arms, and Todd obligingly gathered up her legs. Lifting her, Ethan found she was actually rather light. He guessed that Todd could have lifted her on his own, but it would have hurt his pride to admit he himself likely couldn't. Together, they shuffled her into the living room.
"She's not really breathing, Eh?" Todd ventured quietly.
Ethan had noticed the same thing. She looked still as death, but her skin was warm, her face rosy. "Yeah… It's creepy," He grunted as he struggled.
"Fuckin' creepy," Todd echoed.
Gesturing with his head, Ethan guided Todd over to the low, green couch set flush against the stairwell. "I don't know if her heart's beating either," He said as they laid her down.
Todd looked down at her, shook his head. "Nope. Nope I don't think it is."
Ethan shuddered. "So creepy."
Todd nodded, then considered a moment more. "Hey so… Hopefully that means she doesn't have to pee, right?"
"Oh jeez. Oh wow that's gross but, yeah."
"Or eat. Or drink or anything…"
"God, where is that stupid Fairy Godperson when you need her?" Ethan hissed.
"More like Fairy Godbitch. What a cu-"
"Todd!"
"Country fried fool, as my grandma used to say," Todd recovered.
Ethan shot him a smirk, but looking down at the stranger on his couch, he began to get the sensation that he was sliding down a very steep ravine. In actuality, it was a feeling he'd had for a very long time now, but the pace of his descent had gotten markedly faster.
"Bro? You okay?" Todd ventured quietly.
Ethan looked up, aware he'd been staring into space. "Yeah… I mean, well no, but yeah."
"I hear you. Weird fuckin' day, right?"
"Yeah, no kidding," Ethan laughed softly.
They fell into silence again for a minute. Todd seemed to become aware of his surroundings all of a sudden.
"Hey. I just realized. I haven't been back here in like, years. Man, nothing's changed," He remarked.
"Yeah," Ethan replied vaguely. He knew Todd hadn't. No one had, except for a few well-wishing aunts, uncles, cousins, but even they'd stopped visiting months ago. The Princess was the first person to make use of the couch in ages. It always felt too big to sit on alone.
"So what now man?" Todd asked hesitantly.
Ethan shrugged. "I guess… We just close up. Go to bed, right?"
"That's it? You sure I can't do anything else?"
"No. Wait, yeah," Ethan considered, "Can you… Can you get rid of that stupid spinning wheel for me? Just wrap it in a tarp and stick it in storage or something?"
Todd gaped openly, "Wait, for real?"
Ethan nodded wearily, "Uh, yeah. If it's not too much trouble."
"Hell no! I'd cart that fucking thing to an active volcano if you asked me, bro! But, I mean, I thought you wanted to keep it around. Because of… You know…"
Ethan knew. Some part of it felt like a betrayal, even thinking about discarding it. It was a piece of his memories, something his mother had been fond of… But he HATED it. The thing had stretched his tolerance just by hulking in the corner, but now it seemed it was actively trying to spite him. No more. It had to go.
"Yeah, Todd. I knew I said we should keep it around but… Well that's before I knew the thing was a friggin' Princess trap.," He laughed.
Todd chuckled in return. "It was like a freaking predator man! Waitin' for nubile young Princesses to wander into its clutches. It was probably practicing on you all these years."
"I don't look like a Princess," Ethan pouted.
"Sure, whatever you say, bro." Todd laughed. Turning, he strode on his heel, whistling cheerfully.
Hi! I would like you to read my book. In fact I'd like you to do that so much that the e-book is literally free.
In The Princess and the Peaches we follow Ethan, a young man with a lot of heart, and not much spine, who is struggling to run a small failing grocery store after the untimely death of his parents. Ethan also has the misfortune of being a thoroughly Normal Guy in a world where fairytales are far more fact than fiction.
Ethan has always lived with the understanding that magic was quite firmly None of his Business, but when a wayward Princess falls victim to a curse inside his shop, he is informed by an iron-fisted Fairy Godperson that it has suddenly become Entirely his Business.
As a result, Ethan is forced to deal with flirtatious dragons, sadistic Princes, and more than a few deep seated insecurities.
So look, I won't insult you by trotting out all the tropes I've jammed into this baby. You're cool. We're cooler than that. However, I will say that if you're looking for a read that's fresh, and funny, I truly believe you'll enjoy my book.
Also it's free. Like seriously, no strings attached, free. It's available through these venues:
The Princess and The Peaches by Jean Forest
Google Play to follow soon!
If I still haven't convinced you, fear not! You can read the first two chapters right here, after the read-more. Now I'm gonna go, because self promotion makes me feel like I'm chewing glass.
Chapter 1
It was always the same dream.
For twenty-some years Ethan Green had enjoyed placid, peaceful sleep. He'd had boring, pointless dreams and loved it. Then everything had changed, and now, for four years, it had been the same stupid nightmare, every single night. He drifted through it, carried along in its insistent, unchanging rhythm.
He passed through the living room, warm and full of light. Meandered towards the door, his stride easy and unhurried. At this point, Ethan always somehow felt calm, even eager, despite knowing how this was inevitably going to end. Reflecting on it later, he knew it made a sad kind of sense. This was the only way he could see them now.
He heard them before he'd even reached the door. Laughter so deep and loud it sounded like trains passing outside the window. Then a quiet, lilting tone, rising and falling like birdsong.
With one twist of the handle, one swing of the door, he stepped out into the bright, sun drenched storefront, and for just a brief moment, everything felt right.
Ethan's gaze traveled over the deep velvety green of the walls, the worn pine floor, dappled with light. He looked at the big, arched windows, draped in the same old green gingham curtains, heard the quiet chatter of customers, and now, just like every time, he could swear he smelled the scent of sweet, ripe peaches.
And then came the moment he always anticipated. His view swept from the windows, to the neat, trim counter waiting at the front of the store, over the battered old till, up into the lively, animated face of his father.
He was exactly the way Ethan remembered him. Big as a bear and nearly as hairy, booming with laughter, his rough, calloused fingers almost too large for the spindly keys on the register. Ethan took in his twinkling eyes and crooked grin fervently, as if to fix every minute detail in his memory.
And then there, nestled in amongst the bins and barrels of fresh fruit was his mother, as small and willowy as his father was large, but no less intimidating. Her voice was bright, her movements brisk and efficient. Ethan watched her long, elegant hands tug trimly at the curtains and found himself remembering the way they'd often done the same at the collars of his shirts.
Ethan basked in this moment, like the sight of a sunset, brief and fleeting.
Because of course, it never lasted. It started with the windows, like Every. Single. Time.
Small cracks, that began to spread, like ugly, spiraling spider webs, reaching greedily for the corners of the panes, until suddenly with a deafening crash, the air was full of cascading shards of glass.
As usual, his parents made no reaction, still cheerful, unshaken. Ethan always tried to reach them, even while knowing it was pointless.
"Dad!" He cried, working off the same unending script. "The windows! What's happening!?"
His father turned to him, a placid smile in place.
"It's alright, kiddo, don't worry. I know you can handle it." He replied in his deep, bass rumble.
Ethan stared down at his feet, shifting through the piles of shattered glass.
"But dad-"
Then the fruit would go. Where there was once jewel-bright piles of fresh, ripe produce, suddenly there would be putrid mounds of rotted fruit, their stench overpowering.
"Mom!? How did this-!?"
His mother would give him that soft, exasperated look, like he'd forgotten to comb his hair again.
"Ethan, it's okay, honey. We know you'll take care of it."
And then came the groaning, rending sound of splintering wood, and Ethan's heart would drop into his stomach. The long beams overhead would begin to tear, shaking dust from the ceiling. Every inch of the walls would begin to crack and buckle.
Ethan would look to his parents, still blissfully smiling back at him.
"Everything's falling apart! Can't you see it!? Come on, help me!" He'd cry.
"Ethan calm down," His mother would laugh, "Everything will be fine."
"Yeah kiddo," His father would add with a grin, "You'll just need to take care of it."
And like every time, Ethan would find himself brought up short, paralyzed. He'd stand in the midst of the destruction, his whole life going to ruins around him, and he'd be useless.
"You can do it." His father would add, with such perfect, maddening certainty.
"But…" Ethan muttered, as always, his voice strangely clear among the chaos. "But I don't know how."
Ethan awoke, a few seconds before his alarm, like always, just a little too late to stop it from going off. It's grating, jangling tones piercing straight into the center of Ethan's brain.
He levered himself out of bed immediately. A Green did not snooze, he told himself wearily, not when there was work to be done. Ethan had never once in his life slept past the alarm and today was no exception.
Groggily, he shuffled into the bathroom and stared at his reflection. There was that curly mop of comb-destroying hair. There were those same, tired brown eyes. A nose a little too long, a mouth a little too feminine, a frame far, far too scrawny.
Nothing new here.
He went through his usual routine, dressing in the same white shirt, and the same green slacks he wore just about every day of his adult life. He slipped on the same, stiff loafers, and then… Well, then the apron.
He'd thought he'd have gotten used to it by now. He'd seen it on his parents since he was a child. He'd worn it himself since he was a teenager. But somehow, it still managed to give him pause. Probably because it was hideous.
Family legend said that his great grandmother had chosen the color because it reminded her of springtime, of freshness. Most people Ethan knew would never in their wildest dreams have come to these associations. Looking at it, the words of Ethan's best friend ran through his head.
"If that's fresh anything, it's fresh vomit. Unhealthy vomit. Go to the doctor, something's gone wrong, vomit."
But… It had been a family tradition for generations. It was the Green family's trademark.
And so, dutifully, Ethan put it on, tying it in a tight double knot, even though it made it near impossible to get off later. It was what he always did. It was how it had always been done.
With heavy feet, he trudged downstairs, into the living room.
In truth, it looked almost no different from his dreams. Everything was still in its place, untouched, as it had been for four years now. A few low couches, huddled around the room, a tall bookshelf standing sentinel in the corner, a battered TV sitting silent nearby. The same pictures, arrayed on the mantelpiece, familiar faces staring out. It was exactly the same, an almost perfect monument to the way things used to be… except.
It was so empty. Ethan had managed to preserve every inch of the room, as though nothing had changed, but somehow, like sand slipping through his fingers, he hadn't been able to keep the life that had once existed here, the almost palpable feel of warmth and joy. Now, absence seemed to hang like dust in the air.
Well, that wasn't the only change. Slowly, Ethan made his way over to the bookshelf, and ran his fingers over the glossy, cool stone of the urn sitting high on its shelves. He muttered a quiet, customary, "Good morning." For a moment he forgot his rituals, forgot his duties, and let himself get lost.
The soft tinkle of the bell on the other side of the door jarred him out of his reverie though. There wasn't really time to pause, he reminded himself. With brisk, purposeful steps, he crossed the room and exited out of the dim, musty corners of his home, and into the bright halls of the storefront.
This too, like the living room, differed little from his dreams, although Ethan thought hopefully that the store at least, was less melancholy than the rest of the house. The soft light of sunrise was just filtering through the tall arched windows, catching in the gingham curtains, painting the pine floor.
There was no boisterous, laughing man behind the front counter though. Instead, there sat Todd… Or lounged Todd, his sandy, brush cut head lying in a nest of insultingly well muscled arms.
This too, Ethan had to concede, wasn't exactly new. Since Ethan had begun running the shop, Todd worked every morning, the same time, same as Ethan, and yet somehow stubbornly refused to adjust himself to actually being awake during sed time. And as he had every morning, Ethan considered that if Todd hadn't been his best friend, he'd probably have fired him by now. That, and he was pretty good at moving boxes.
Sighing, Ethan made his way over to the stool Todd had precariously perched himself on and gave it a lazy kick. Todd awoke with a start, scrambling to keep upright.
"Am I keeping you awake Todd?" Ethan asked with a weary smile.
"Bro, you are single handedly destroying my sleep cycle, but what else is new?" Todd replied groggily, "Why'd you wake me up? You don't even need me for anything."
"The produce shipment-" Ethan began.
"-Probably won't come until noon," Todd concluded sourly.
Ethan scowled. "You've noticed that too huh? He used to come first thing a few years ago… Now he's been coming later and later…"
"Fine by me, I'm in no hurry to play packhorse." Todd replied with a jaw cracking yawn.
"It's your job Todd. Being awake, by the way, is also your job."
"Yeah, when there's shit to do. Trust me, I'll be all over those boxes when they come. I'll hit those boxes like they owed me money. Fuckin' Prince of boxes over here. But for now, no boxes, no customers… So no Todd," He muttered, laying his head down again.
"Todd, come on man. You've gotta do something. Remember what dad used to say? If you've got time to lean-"
"- You've got time to clean, yeah I remember. And don't get me wrong bro, your dad was a regular fountain of wisdom, but it's gonna be a long friggin' day. The dust will still be there after my power nap."
Shaking his head, Ethan abandoned his efforts to rouse Todd and fetched his old push broom from its resting place nearby.
It was worn, it's bristles tattered, it's paint chipped, and it was heavier than a broom had any right to be, the shaft made of what Ethan suspected was solid metal, but it had been in the family for generations, and it fit in Ethan's hand like it was made just for him.
Wearily, he took it and made a few halfhearted swipes at the floor, but had to concede that all he was doing was likely wearing more of the already thin varnish off the boards. He'd spent most of last night aimlessly sweeping too, after all. It wasn't like there were customers to keep them busy.
Todd looked up, and seemed to notice the despondent look on Ethan's face.
"Hey man, I'm just fuckin' around. You know I'll work hard today."
"Yeah Todd, I know, I'm not really worried about you," Ethan replied quietly.
Todd stood and made his way over to Ethan, awkwardly clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry so much dude. Things will get better. Today's gonna be different! I can feel it!" Todd exclaimed with as much enthusiasm as one could have at six in the morning.
"I don't really want it to be different," Ethan sighed, "I'd rather things… went back to being the same."
Todd scowled. "Well, tough. I said today's gonna be different, and it will. You wait and see, bro."
"Alright," Ethan laughed, "If you say so."
As the day wore on, things certainly seemed far from different.
As Todd predicted, the produce shipment came extraordinarily late. True to his word, Todd tackled the task with gusto. Ethan was forced to admit, when there was actual work to be done, Todd was a model employee. It was just sheer boredom that tripped him up.
Unfortunately, boredom was the one commodity they had in plenty at the store. Once the crates were squared away, the produce stocked, there was little else to be found, because as Ethan had predicted, only a few, meandering customers made their way into the store all day. Even fewer had bought anything.
As evening began to fall, Ethan gradually found that even he was running out of mindless busywork for himself, and so, he began to fall back on entertaining Todd's inane chatter.
"Hey, bro!" Todd called from the front of the store. From where Ethan stood, crowded in the far corner, surrounded by crates of fruit, he could only just make out Todd's frame leaning languidly on the counter, a newspaper in hand. "Did you read this story? The one in the paper today?"
"You mean that paper we're supposed to be selling?" Ethan sighed.
"Yeah, whatever dude, listen up. Apparently there was a dragon attack in South Mills. Isn't that crazy?"
Ethan scowled. "A dragon? An actual like… wild dragon? I thought those were pretty rare."
"Yeah, I know right? I guess it's the first attack in like, five years or something," Todd paused, laying down the paper, "Hey… do you think something like that could happen here?" He added, in a tone far more hopeful than frightened.
"Here?" Ethan didn't even give the question a moment's consideration, "No way. That stuff happens out in the country, not in the middle of downtown. Not here."
"I dunno, could happen. Oh! like I heard from my cousin’s friend's sister, there was that place down on Pine St, that mom and pop diner? Anyhow, so I guess the health inspector was due to visit, and they were freaking out because they'd never make the grade, right? And then like, overnight, they get one of those… Uh, those little bastards… What're they called? Something like food… a muffin?"
"A Brownie," Ethan supplied wearily.
"Yeah! That's the thing! Anyhow, I guess one of those moves in, and suddenly the next morning their kitchen is totally clean and up to code! So see man, that kind of thing happens around here."
Ethan shook his head. "Don't hold your breath Todd. This place isn't exactly magical."
Ethan had always been vaguely aware of Magic, in the same way one could be vaguely aware that elephants existed. It was a part of life for some people, and sometimes interesting to hear about, but Ethan sure as hell didn't want it in his shop. A Green, he could almost hear his father saying, did not rely on Magic. Hard work, courage and love had their own magic, he would state, and it was all their family ever needed. Ethan held by this attitude dutifully… Not that anything remotely Magical had ever shown up at his door. Life at the shop had been blissfully routine for years, so much so that it was almost easy to forget that Magic even existed to begin with.
"Still, it'd be cool," Todd muttered.
Ethan smirked. "What, you want a dragon to come burn the shop down?"
Todd heaved a sigh. "Well at least then I'd get weekends off…"
Ethan paused, a twinge of guilt running through him. "Look…" He began awkwardly, "I'm… I'm really sorry you've had to work so much lately. It's just, you know, money's tight… I can't really afford to hire…"
"Bro," Todd cut in with a laugh, "Shut the fuck up man. I don't care. I didn't really mean what I said, you know that."
"I… Yeah," Ethan sighed, "I just… Feel bad."
"You always feel bad. Constantly. You're like a little rain cloud of pure downer. Come on, bro, don't take me so seriously. I don't."
"Yeah okay. Just, I don't wanna be that boss, y'know?"
"You aren't dude. Calm down. Sweep or something, that'll cheer you up."
"Great advice. Thanks, Todd." Ethan shot back sarcastically.
"Anytime." Todd replied with cheerful sincerity.
Aggravatingly, as closing hour neared, Ethan really was still sweeping.
There was no real aim. He just skated his broom around the shop, letting his mind wander, trying to keep visions of red ink and out of business signs out of his head. He was startled out of these thoughts however, by a sharp jab to the back.
"Ow! F-Fudge!" He muttered.
He heard Todd creak on his stool. "The spinning wheel?" He drawled lazily.
Ethan wheeled to eye the contraption in question. "Yeah, the stupid thing."
"Goddamn, that's got to be the fifth time this week. You'd think you'd steer clear of that thing by now.”
"You'd think…" Ethan muttered darkly.
He hated that spinning wheel. Hated it. Nearly every day of his life he'd had to dodge its spindle, jutting out into the aisles, taking up precious space. But his mother, and his grandmother, and her mother before that had been enamored with it. Made the place look rustic, they'd said, homey. Made it a death trap, Ethan thought murderously to himself. But still, he couldn't bring himself to remove it. It was a part of the shop. Tradition.
He was still rubbing his sore back when the smell met his nose. He felt his stomach sink. Rotten fruit. Again. Just what he needed.
Striding over to the produce, he bent over the bin of peaches and poked at them experimentally. Their flesh gave way, revealing their slick, browning insides, releasing that same putrid odor. Ethan suppressed a groan of frustration.
"Todd!" He called.
"Yeah, what?"
"Did you forget to swap out yesterday's peaches?"
Todd poked his head down the aisle, scowling. "No man. I restocked those today, my own two hands."
"They're friggin' rotten again!"
"Again? That's weird. They looked okay when I stocked them, I guess," Todd shrugged.
"Well, they're garbage now," Ethan sighed.
Grumbling, Ethan seized a trash bag and set about the unenviable task of discarding the moldering peaches. He was so consumed by his frustration that he didn't even hear the bell tinkling on the front door. After a few minutes though, he couldn't help but notice Todd's frantic attempts to get his attention from behind the counter.
"Bro!" Todd hissed, "Bro c'mere! C'mere c'mere!"
Ethan wasn't sure why Todd was bothering to whisper, considering that he was also windmilling his arms enthusiastically. With a sigh, Ethan set down his bag and wandered over.
"What is it, Todd?" He asked wearily.
"Check it, bro. Unbelievable," Todd breathed, gesturing down the central aisle.
Ethan followed his gaze. It was a girl. That was unsurprising. Todd never hesitated to point out a shapely looking lady or two, with just as much finesse as he was doing now. Ethan usually didn't humor these gawking sessions, a little too respectful and very much too terrified to scope out women, but this time, he found he couldn't quite tear his eyes away.
She was beautiful. Radiantly, impossibly beautiful.
She was short, but not too short, perhaps a full head below Ethan. Her hair was cropped startlingly, boyishly close, but it was a color that Ethan, though a not poetic sort, could only describe as honey-gold. Though she wore loose, casual clothes; a t-shirt, jeans, a scarf hanging about her neck, she bore them as if they were the finest regalia.
She stood near the coolers, inspecting a drink, and as she moved Ethan found himself taking in even the tiniest aspects of her delicate form. She had slender, perfect fingers. Rosy, cherubic, perfect lips. A pert, perfect nose. Indeed as Ethan stared, he began to realize that just about everything on her was perfect, in a very uniform, depthless kind of way. This idea suddenly changed his awe to unnerved fixation. There was something… uncanny about her.
If you'd asked a man to describe what a perfect woman looked like, aside from her haircut and clothes, they likely would have rattled off her exact attributes. There were no flaws, no quirks, nothing curious or odd on her body anywhere. Not a single freckle, beauty mark, scar, wrinkle. She was of perfect proportion, curvaceous, but not overly so. Her ears were cute ears, her brows were cute brows. Even before he caught sight of her eyes, he could predict their color, a pure brilliant sky blue. The entire effect was one of a lovely woman, to make no mistake, but something struck him as off. She seemed so… generically gorgeous. So… homogenized.
Still, she was a girl, and she was beautiful, and so Todd's next words brought a twist to Ethan's stomach.
"Go talk to her, bro."
Ethan whirled to face Todd. "What!?" He hissed.
"Yeah, dude, go talk to her! One of us has to! We can't let a babe like that walk out the door without saying something!"
"Yes we can! And why me!?"
Todd shrugged. "I know my limits dude. A girl like that? Wouldn't say two words to me. But you've got that whole kicked-puppy thing going on. Girls love that. Go talk to her."
"I… What?"
"Besides, you deserve a break. Maybe if you got a girlfriend you'd stop moping for once."
"I am not going to go over there and hit on her!" Ethan exclaimed, a little more loudly than he'd intended. He froze, panicked for a moment. Had she heard? He snuck a glance at her, but she was still staring impassively at her drink. He could have sworn he heard a snicker though.
"Relax dude. I didn't tell you to go ask her to marry you. Just say something to her."
"Like what!?" Ethan demanded quietly.
"I don't know man, like, "Hey, need help finding anything?" At the very least you gotta go help her out. It's good customer service."
Ethan paused. In a roundabout way, Todd was right. She was a customer, and so far all he'd done was stare at her. His parents would be mortified.
"Okay, well… yeah. I'm going to go help her. But I mean… Just because it's my job," He stammered.
"Sure bro. Good luck. I'll be here, thinking up baby names for you."
Ethan scowled and shook his head, but nonetheless gathered his courage and began to approach the mystery girl. He saw her gaze slant over to him, and it hit him like an electric shock. Suddenly Ethan became painfully aware of his every flaw, and imagined a few new ones for good measure. Was he walking funny? Did he always walk like that? How did walking work again?
His suddenly stilted gait carried him to her, and as she stared up at him expectantly, he remembered that now he was supposed to talk.
"Hhhh…." He began. It was supposed to be Hi, but the I had jumped ship somewhere between his brain and his lungs. "So, can I… find… anything?"
Somewhere, in the back of his skull, a cruelly rational part of him began dissecting his sentence, and concluded that it was at least missing a verb and a pronoun. It decided that the obvious remedy to this problem was to make him blush furiously. The girl bit her lip. Ethan wasn't sure what this was supposed to mean, but he had a suspicion it meant something, in the mystic language of girl.
"Uh, yeah, no, I'm just looking at the sodas," She replied with a fluttering smile.
She had a soft, lilting voice. The kind you expected to hear raised in song. Just listening to it Ethan had the impression that pan flutes and violins were on standby.
"Oh. Okay. Sodas are… good," Ethan murmured. He could hear Todd's hand hit his forehead all the way from the front of the store.
"Yeah, uh… right. So…" The girl murmured back awkwardly.
"So…" Was all Ethan could manage to reply.
He knew this was his cue to walk away. But he just… couldn't. It was as if something intoxicating was radiating off this girl, like a perfume. It fixed him to his place, denying him the dignity of a hasty retreat. He was struggling for some kind of rational explanation for this when the girl cleared her throat.
"Look," She began. Her lyrical voice had taken on a wearied, flat tone, to very odd effect. "I'm sorry. This isn't your fault."
"Wait, what's not my fault?"
"The awkwardness."
Her bluntness was surprising, but somehow Ethan found himself laughing. "Oh. No. I'm pretty sure it's all my fault. It's kind of what I do."
The girl laughed in return, and it sounded like bells. "No, seriously though. I have this effect on everyone. It's not just you."
Ethan's mouth beat his brain. "Well, yeah, because you're gorgeous."
From the front came the distinct noise of Todd falling off his chair.
To his relief and bewilderment, she laughed again. "Uh huh. I know. It's kind of part and parcel of the whole gig. I'm, uh… Well see, I'm a Princess."
Ethan blinked. Even as his mouth was saying, "What?" His mind was quickly putting the pieces together. It made sense, actually.
Up to now, Ethan had only seen Princesses on the television, generally being paraded as some kind of prize in reality shows. The formula was always the same, a few handsome Princes, some perilous trials, and in the end, a happily ever after, or so the tabloids purported. The Princess in question had always stuck Ethan as more of a prop than a person, bubbly, vacuous, grinning glossily as men risked life and limb in the pursuit of their hands, cooing breathlessly as they were carried away into the sunset like hunted pelts on the back of some ridiculous horse. And they all looked the same. A minor variation in hair or skin color, height, features, but nearly always the same, tame, brand name beautiful. Looking at this girl now, he realized that she fit the same mold perfectly, as though she'd been crafted on the same assembly line.
At any rate, Princesses, like Magic, were something that didn't happen to Ethan Green. So despite instantly believing her confession, it took a few moments for the gears in his head to restart.
"Yeah, so, I guess it's normal that you're… y'know, staring and everything," She muttered, "It's okay. Well actually it's not okay, I mean, it's kind of a pain in the ass, but it's not like you're the only one."
Ethan shook his head. "I… I'm sorry. I just… Why are you in my shop!?" He blurted.
The Princess regarded him frostily, a strange expression on her angelic face. "Excuse me?"
"No! No no, I didn't mean that like, 'Get out of my shop or anything' it's just that… Aren't you guys usually-?"
Her expression only darkened, her long fingers gripping the top of her soda viciously. "Aren't we usually what? Fawning out windows, waiting for our Prince to come? Embroidering our wedding gowns? What are you saying, 'Shouldn't you be in your tower?!'"
"No! No, jeez, no," Ethan cried, holding his hands up placatingly, "I just… You're here, doing… Normal people stuff. I mean, Princesses aren't… Normal."
Somehow, he knew it was the wrong thing the moment he said it. Still, he didn't expect the tears that sprang up in her eyes.
"No. We're not. Thanks for reminding me." She seethed. Roughly, she jammed the soda back into the cooler, and wheeled around. Ethan expected her to storm off, but instead she froze.
"Miss? Please Miss… Uh, or your highness, or… whatever. I'm sorry." Ethan stammered out.
She didn't turn, didn't move.
"Miss? Are you alright?"
He walked as close as he dared to her. She was still fixed in place, and as Ethan watched her, he could see she was barely breathing.
Baffled, he followed her gaze. She was staring, wide eyed, unblinking, at the spinning wheel.
She let out a small, defeated breath. Spoke only two words.
"Oh, fuck."
Then, moving like a woman possessed, she stepped forward, stretched out a hand, and pricked her finger on the spindle.
Then dropped like a sack of rocks.
Chapter 2
Ethan gaped for a second, staring at her sprawled body, stepping away from it like it was toxic. It took him a few seconds to find his voice. It took him longer to form actual words.
"Oh fu- Oh sh- Oh God. Oh god oh man. Ohhhhhh god oh man oh god…"
"Bro?" Came Todd's voice tentatively from the front.
"TODD!"
"Whoa, Bro, what!?" Todd called, scrambling out from behind the counter.
"TODD!" Ethan cried again, pointing to her prone body.
"OH SHIT!" Todd yelped, jumping back. "WHAT THE FUCK, BRO!? I told you to talk to her, not club her like a fucking seal!"
"I didn't! I was talking to her, and then she flipped out, and then she… died?"
"OH FUCK, IS SHE DEAD!?" Todd roared.
"I DON'T KNOW! I don't know! I don't know, I just… SEE THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I TALK TO GIRLS!"
Todd let out a small burst of hysterical laughter. "Oh shit, Bro, you're a real lady killer."
"NOT FUNNY!"
"Okay. Okay, just chill, just… Just chill," Todd took a deep breath, ran his hands through his crop of hair, "Okay. First aid right? Do we check her pulse, or… CPR? Mouth to mouth?" He offered vaguely.
"I wouldn't recommend that." Came a dry voice from behind them.
Both of them jumped. Todd let out what could only accurately be described as a squeal.
Whirling, Ethan came face to face with the most bizarre looking woman he'd ever seen in his life.
She wasn't quite young, but she wasn't quite old either. Something about her eyes suggested a certain august maturity, but her face had a glossy, flawless quality to it, not unlike the Princess. Her hair was a faint lavender, pulled into a rather intricate bun at the crown of her head. In truth, everything about her was lavender, from her severe, sensible pumps to her glittering, wire rim spectacles. She even seemed to emanate a nearly imperceptible lavender aura. Her clothes smacked of the same sickly hue. Ethan was just a bit at a loss for how to describe them though.
It looked like a pantsuit, tailored by someone given only the barest description of what that entailed, and with a fanciful imagination. Flairs and curlicues and embroideries plagued the thing. Ethan absently made out that her buttons were in fact twee little violet butterflies.
And then of course, there were the wings. Gossamer, gaudy affairs, in the same precise shade of Lavender. They reached above her head, and came to an almost menacing hooked peak. They swallow-tailed beneath her, trailing just above the ground.
Ethan absorbed all of this in just a few stunned seconds. Sheer panic made him a studious observer. As the shock wore off, he felt Todd, gripping his arm so hard he was losing sensation.
"Whathafuckisthat?" Todd squeaked.
The woman… person… thing, straightened her glasses and scowled.
"My name is Louise. I'm your Godperson attendant for this juncture," She answered. Her voice was somewhere in a bland, middle range, sterile and professional, the type of voice one chose for answering machine menus.
"Our what?" Ethan breathed.
"Here, take my card." She twiddled her fingers and in a blink of an eye a small card appeared in her hand, lavender of course. As Ethan took it, he noted absently that it gave off a strange, nauseatingly sweet smell.
"Wherethafuckyoucomefrom?" Todd cut in again.
"I teleported. Standard procedure. Much more efficient than flying,"
She stated as if this were self-evident, "Now, before we continue chatting, I have to observe protocol," She cleared her throat, staring Ethan square in the face. Her eyes were god damn lavender colored, "We have received notice that on these premises, a Princess has succumbed to a Curse, and as such as initiated her Trial Phase." She had a remarkable ability for pronouncing capital letters. Everything was said with an inflection of slight annoyance.
"Uh, Miss Godperson… Louise. Ma'am. May I ask a few questions?" Ethan ventured, struggling to tread water.
"By all means."
"Okay. So. Princess?"
"Her." Louise replied flatly, pointing to the girl sprawled on the floor.
"Okay… Curse?"
"The Spinning Wheel's Spindle. A rather old fashioned method. Usually avoided nowadays, the whole Coma business can put Princes off rather a bit, but it was deemed… Necessary in her case. Nonetheless, it was rather hard to trigger. I have to say I'm grateful for your assistance in that matter."
"Assist? I didn't push her into the thing!" Ethan exclaimed.
"Of course not. It would have drawn her in the moment she saw it. All the same, I'm glad you have one lying around. They're hard to come by."
"I… Yeah, sure… Anyhow. Uh… Trial Phase?"
"Ah, now here is where we really talk business. Are you the owner of these premises?" She demanded, fixing Ethan with a piercing gaze.
For a moment, Ethan almost said no. Some part of him still knew it as his parents' house. Their shop. Their home. But no, it was only his now.
"Yes. Yes I'm the owner," He nodded.
"Well then, as such, you are required, by code, to permit the use of these premises for use in the Princess' trials, and house her person until such a time as the trials are complete and a suitable Prince has awoken her."
"Waitwaitwait," Todd chimed in, "Trials? Like… Those crazy fuckin' things we see on TV? Riding up glass hills, and slaying dragons and shit?"
Louise looked at Todd as one might regard a diseased dog. "Yes, sir. Those sorts of trials. It's customary, once a Princess enters her Trial Phase, for Princes to compete for her hand. The onus of hosting these trials always falls on the owner of the-"
"Premises the Princess conks out on," Ethan surmised.
"In the cases of Magically Induced Comas, yes," Louise agreed.
"So you're going to roost a dragon in my SHOP!?" Ethan roared.
"There's no need to become excitable," Louise huffed, "Any and all damages you suffer will be compensated for. Honestly, most people are delighted to host Trials. It can be quite lucrative, you know."
"Lucrative?" Todd mumbled.
"Indeed. If you so choose, many Media outlets are happy to televise the proceedings, and pay a handsome fee for the privilege."
"No," Ethan replied firmly.
"Are you sure? It's quite routine nowadays," Louise replied airily.
"No. No media, no money, no… No trials! I don't want this! Take the girl but leave me alone!" He cried.
A look of frosty severity crossed Louise's face, momentarily contorting it into something that appeared not entirely human. Both he and Todd backed up a step. "You Don't Have A Choice Mr. Green," She intoned, every capital crisp.
"But… But this is my shop! It's my family's shop, it's been ours for generations!" Ethan protested.
"From the minute that girl fainted on your floor, for all intents and purposes, this shop became property of Fate, Mr. Green," Louise insisted.
"You can't…"
"I can. I will. You have very little choice in the matter. What choice you do have, I suggest you exercise wisely." She put firmly. Ethan felt the argument close like a pair of iron doors. "Now, as I said, you can still make a fine profit from this venture-"
"No, I still stand by what I said. No cameras." Ethan pressed. She was right. If this was the only choice he had, he was going to make the proper one. The Greens did not indulge in spectacle. The Greens didn't caper for money. The Greens did not seek fame. These were truths Ethan understood as firmly as his own name.
"Suit yourself," Louise dismissed, "It's not required. All that is required is that you don't impede the process. Do what you like with the Princess' body. Whatever is most convenient. I warn you though, lest you get visions of glory, that kissing her would be ill advised. Or any other kind of… miscreancy with her body, but kissing will have the most adverse effects."
"I… What!? No! God no! I'm not kissing a girl in a coma!" Ethan exclaimed.
"Fuckin' right! That's creepy as balls!" Todd nodded.
"Good. See to it you maintain that attitude and I think we'll have a very amicable partnership." Louise declared cordially.
Ethan was less than reassured. He looked around his shop and fervently began to wish he really had told the Princess to get the hell out, customer service be damned.
"Oh cheer up," Louise pronounced. She sported something that it took several seconds for Ethan to realize was supposed to be a smile. "You're about to be aiding in the pursuit of True Love."
She pronounced the last two words in such a fashion that Ethan almost saw the letters TM floating after them.
"I… Okay?"
"Don't worry, dear," The endearment came off more than a little scripted, "I'll take care of the particulars. All you have to do is sit back and stay out of the way. Who knows, you may even find it entertaining."
"I… But… Okay?"
"Good lad. Now then. I have a lot of business to attend to. We must get cracking as soon as possible, very eager to wrap this case up. That being said, how does tomorrow night, around nine o'clock fetch you?"
"For what?" Ethan asked numbly.
"Well the trial of course!" Louise exclaimed, "Honestly, do keep up."
"Uh, well, it is after close," Ethan reasoned lamely.
"Lovely. Works for both of us. Good to see you're becoming more agreeable." Louise flashed another dubious smile.
"I… Yeah, no problem," Ethan replied dazedly.
"Well, if that's all that sorted, I'll be on my way. You can expect the Dragon sometime around Eight, I expect."
"The… wait, what, seriously!?" Ethan exclaimed.
"Good day!" Louise replied brightly. There was a slight flash, a small sound like rushing air, and then she was gone.
He and Todd stood stock still for what must have been minutes. When Todd finally released his grip on Ethan's arm, he left sweaty fingerprints on his shirt.
"Dragon," Ethan muttered absently, "She said Dragon."
"And you said this shit doesn't happen here!" Todd replied with a faint laugh.
"Why Dragons? Why here? Why… Why me?" Ethan whispered. He looked to Todd frantically. "Did I like, murder someone and forget about it? Kick some kittens? How did my luck get this bad!?"
"Well, you did get this chick zonked," Todd chuckled, prodding the girl with his foot.
"Don't kick her! God, what do we do with her? We can't just leave her here," Ethan moaned. Looking at her, sprawled on the hard floor, he already felt a bit guilty he'd ignored her as long as he had.
"We could prop her up in the corner, tape her eyes open, scare the shit out of shoplifters."
"Todd!"
"Alright, dude, just kidding."
"It'll have to be the couch I guess," Ethan sighed, "Come on, help me move her."
Awkwardly, Ethan bent and slipped his hands under her arms, and Todd obligingly gathered up her legs. Lifting her, Ethan found she was actually rather light. He guessed that Todd could have lifted her on his own, but it would have hurt his pride to admit he himself likely couldn't. Together, they shuffled her into the living room.
"She's not really breathing, Eh?" Todd ventured quietly.
Ethan had noticed the same thing. She looked still as death, but her skin was warm, her face rosy. "Yeah… It's creepy," He grunted as he struggled.
"Fuckin' creepy," Todd echoed.
Gesturing with his head, Ethan guided Todd over to the low, green couch set flush against the stairwell. "I don't know if her heart's beating either," He said as they laid her down.
Todd looked down at her, shook his head. "Nope. Nope I don't think it is."
Ethan shuddered. "So creepy."
Todd nodded, then considered a moment more. "Hey so… Hopefully that means she doesn't have to pee, right?"
"Oh jeez. Oh wow that's gross but, yeah."
"Or eat. Or drink or anything…"
"God, where is that stupid Fairy Godperson when you need her?" Ethan hissed.
"More like Fairy Godbitch. What a cu-"
"Todd!"
"Country fried fool, as my grandma used to say," Todd recovered.
Ethan shot him a smirk, but looking down at the stranger on his couch, he began to get the sensation that he was sliding down a very steep ravine. In actuality, it was a feeling he'd had for a very long time now, but the pace of his descent had gotten markedly faster.
"Bro? You okay?" Todd ventured quietly.
Ethan looked up, aware he'd been staring into space. "Yeah… I mean, well no, but yeah."
"I hear you. Weird fuckin' day, right?"
"Yeah, no kidding," Ethan laughed softly.
They fell into silence again for a minute. Todd seemed to become aware of his surroundings all of a sudden.
"Hey. I just realized. I haven't been back here in like, years. Man, nothing's changed," He remarked.
"Yeah," Ethan replied vaguely. He knew Todd hadn't. No one had, except for a few well-wishing aunts, uncles, cousins, but even they'd stopped visiting months ago. The Princess was the first person to make use of the couch in ages. It always felt too big to sit on alone.
"So what now man?" Todd asked hesitantly.
Ethan shrugged. "I guess… We just close up. Go to bed, right?"
"That's it? You sure I can't do anything else?"
"No. Wait, yeah," Ethan considered, "Can you… Can you get rid of that stupid spinning wheel for me? Just wrap it in a tarp and stick it in storage or something?"
Todd gaped openly, "Wait, for real?"
Ethan nodded wearily, "Uh, yeah. If it's not too much trouble."
"Hell no! I'd cart that fucking thing to an active volcano if you asked me, bro! But, I mean, I thought you wanted to keep it around. Because of… You know…"
Ethan knew. Some part of it felt like a betrayal, even thinking about discarding it. It was a piece of his memories, something his mother had been fond of… But he HATED it. The thing had stretched his tolerance just by hulking in the corner, but now it seemed it was actively trying to spite him. No more. It had to go.
"Yeah, Todd. I knew I said we should keep it around but… Well that's before I knew the thing was a friggin' Princess trap.," He laughed.
Todd chuckled in return. "It was like a freaking predator man! Waitin' for nubile young Princesses to wander into its clutches. It was probably practicing on you all these years."
"I don't look like a Princess," Ethan pouted.
"Sure, whatever you say, bro." Todd laughed. Turning, he strode on his heel, whistling cheerfully.
