the not so grimm.

He dreamt a dream of fire and gold, Of hidden caverns and riches untold. Of legend and myth, of maidens fair, Of courage and valour, hope and despair.

He dreamt a dream where he is brave, Galloping over paths unpaved. Through forest and glen, he makes his way, Towards the beast which he has to slay.

He dreamt his dream, as people stared, At his still body, forever impaired. A switch was flicked, a sheet was pulled, And he dreamt his dream, where over a kingdom he ruled.

“Can you pass the bread please?”

“Sure, honey. Here you go.”

“Thank you darling. You take such good care of me.”

“Nothing is good enough for my princess. Here is your coffee, dear.”

“Thank you dear.” (sips) “Sweetheart, I think you forgot the sugar.”

“Oh, did I? Just hand me the cup now…”

(gets up, goes to the kitchen counter)

“Here you go.”

(she smiles, takes a sip)

“Now that is good. What would I ever do withou-”

(She stiffens up. Falls face first on the table)

“Oh honey, not on the butter. Damn.”

(He gets up, takes the cup from her hands. Clears his side of the table, so as to make it look like it was breakfast for one. Goes to the door, puts on his hat. Opens the door, just in time for the neighbor to leave for work. Stands at the door and yells inside)

“I am really sorry sweety, I couldn’t make time for breakfast today. Will definately see you for lunch. You take good care of yourself now. I love you.”

It was five minutes till midnight hour and my phone alarm went off. I straightened against the side of the building and fumbled to get it out of my jeans to shut off the insistent buzzing. My gloved fingers made this more difficult than usual, but I couldn't take them off in this cold.

Charm smiled down at me and said, "Is it time for you to go home? At the stroke of midnight like a modern day Cinderella?"

I laughed awkwardly, the warmth I'd found in his arms slowly fading as my mind circled through the consequences of delaying any longer. 

"I do have to go," I told him, still smiling. "My dad isn't that strict but I have a curfew."

"Alright," he said, pulling me closer, he words a warm puff on my cold forehead. "I'll drop you home. Leave your car here. I'll pick you up in the morning for classes." One hand circled my waist while the other pressed into the middle of my back. He held me like he didn't want to let go.

I shivered at the idea that he could really do that now. He could do things for me that a boyfriend would. He could show he cared about me because now he knew that I cared too. Finally.

I grinned into his sweater then regretfully shook my head. "Not tonight."

"Your dad won't like it?"

"No, just...this is perfect, this moment. For tonight I want to make this my snapshot of the night." I took out my keys and then I looked up at him, my eyes shinning. "Then tomorrow I can get dozens more. I can do that now, you know. Perks of being your girlfriend."

He bent down and kissed me. I knew he thought I was quirky and maybe slightly insane but he had assured me that his teen hormones didn't care.

Earlier that night, after our awkward confessions, we'd sat at the edge of the dance floor, ignoring our friends, grinning stupidly at each other till our teachers called an end to the evening and everyone left the school premises but us. I had never known how amazing the school rooftop was at night. Of course neither of us had paid much attention to the view. 

I stepped back and looked towards the school parking lot where my car was. It was nearly empty now. The after parties were held elsewhere. "Thanks for tonight."

"Hey, anytime you need to be rescued from utter boredom..." He smiled, messy hair in his normally bespectacled eyes. My heart skipped a beat or two.

"Damn, you're hot," I told him and he laughed and caught my hand.

"So don't leave yet. You can ogle me some more and I'll charge you in kisses."

Two minutes till midnight and my phone went off again.

"I really need to go."

He hooked his finger into the ring that held my keys and gave me a little boy look that begged me not to.

"Aaaa!" I groaned as I twisted out of his hold. Quickly I stole one last peck from his lips and then ran towards my car.

"Rella!" he called out behind me. I stopped mid run, turned and waved at his silhouette before continuing my sprint to the car.

It was a cold night. Technically it was spring but you wouldn't think so if you lived in my city. 

I reached my car and unlocked it. One minute to midnight, my alarm sounded for the third time.

"Alright, alright," I muttered under my breath.

Then I was inside and the air from the car heater blasted on my face. I manoeuvred out of the lot carefully. The last thing I needed tonight was a drunk and indignant jock out for revenge because I nicked his 1966 mustang. Okay so I was thinking of a very specific jerk...eh, jock.   

My last alarm for the night was set for 12 am, but before I reached to shut it up, my phone rang.

"Hello?" I drove one handed, my speed falling to a crawl. While I could drive an automatic like nobody's business, my dad had forced me to get a stick shift. "German's make the most sensible cars," he had told me, a proud Frenchman born and bred. 

"Rella?" Charm's laughing voice filtered through the bad connection.

"Hey," I said softly, the silly smile back on my face again.

"You left something behind."

"You?" I grinned.

He chuckled. "No. Though yeah, that too. Guess what else?"

"Erm..." My heart? My own cheesiness made me grimace.

"Check your pockets."

"I'm driving."

He sighed. "You're no fun. So once you get home, how do you intend to get inside?"

"Through...the door?" What was I missing here?

"With...a key?" he said, his tone teasing.

"Yeah, so I have my..." I looked down at the ignition where my key ring swung and suddenly noticed the absence of my house key.

"Oh my gods," I said. "What the hell? How did that happen?"

The ring was intact. I couldn't figure out how the key had fallen out.

"Maybe your key ring's loose? broken?"

"No..."

"So, uh, how far out are you?"

I wasn't very far off. I could turn around and get my key but that wasn't possible, not really. I couldn't afford to see him again tonight.

"Shoot," I said, glancing at the lit up dial on my dashboard that showed the needle pointing a sensible distance from Empty. "I'm running low on gas. I'll get home but I don't think I should turn back now."

"Want me to drop your key off?"

"No!" I said, probably a little too emphatically.

I glanced at my watch and my insides clenched. It was one minute past midnight.

"Rella?" 

"I, uh..." My eyes went instinctively to the rearview mirror and I realized I'd been too high on finally admitting my crush on Charm to keep my mind on what came after midnight.

A slight trembling began just under my skin. Painless but impossible to ignore.

"Rella, you alright? You sound...upset."

My voice had thickened. I tried to keep the hoarseness quiet by speaking softly. "I'm alright. Think I caught a slight cold. I'll wake up dad and he'll open the door. It's all okay."

"It's not a problem. It's not like I have anything else to do tonight."

I tried smiling at that, thinking of the parties he could go to. Charm lived up to his name. No matter the tee shirts that proudly proclaimed his nerdhood, nobody could put him in a box and then look down on him.

"No, it's good. I'll see you tomorrow."

He was quiet for a moment and in that time I watched as the skin and bones around my eyes shifted subtly.

Then he sighed. "You really wont let me see you again tonight huh?"

I shifted my eyes to the empty road and suppressed my own sigh. I wish I could. I wish I could.

"Hey, Rella?"

"Hmm?" 

"It was a great kiss."

I smiled this time thinking of the startled look on his face. I had been so sure he was going to reject me the moment I let go that I had refused to let go for a long while.

"Best kiss of my life, actually," he added and I could hear his grin.

"First kiss of mine," I admitted in a whisper.

"Yeah?"

I nodded under the light of the traffic signal.

"Goodnight, my Cinderella," he said, his voice comforting like a bedtime story. "Hope our kiss brings you luck."

It brought me you. "Goodnight."

I hung up and turned a corner to my street. At this time of the night my  neighbourhood was deathly silent. From my car I rang my dad and waited while he grumbled and looked for his slippers and switched on all the lights in the house before coming down to open the door.

"So," he said as I walked in, my sweater and jeans a looser fit than they had been earlier that night. "How did it go?"

"Like a charm," I said as I climbed the stairs up.

"Rell." The grimness in his voice stopped me. "Is this really the way to get what you want?"

I flexed my changed fingers on the banister and said, "Are you regretting your gift?"

"No, but to change yourself like this...for a boy..."

"That's how he knows me. That's who he likes."

"And how long will this go on?" He sighed and before I could say anything he waved me off. "Nevermind. I can hardly moralize with my own history. Just...don't get hurt."

I smiled down at him from the steps. "Why, Edward Merryweather, you almost sound like a real dad."

He flicked a finger at me and the steps lurched into motion. I fell flat on my face and got up rubbing my nose and elbows. "Thank you. Really. Your love is so warm and fuzzy."

"Never annoy your fairy godfather. I thought I taught you that years ago."

"You did. I broke an arm that time."

My dad laughed and we walked up the stairs. The lights went out behind us.

At the door to my room I paused and said, "It's not forever. Just a  little while. Then school will be over and he'll go off to college. He never has to know."

He looked at me keenly, but didn't say anything. I suppose there was nothing to say. The stupidity in my plan was self evident.

"Goodnight, dad," I said as I turned to go in.

There was once a man

Once a man who wished

He wished that he were Fey.

The Fey he saw in magic light

In light of one fading day.

  Daylight gone, the fairies danced

They danced and sang in joy

In joy, their faces unworried and young

Young as a fresh-faced boy.

  A boy he was and now a man

This man someday be old

Old, the Fey never grew

Neither grew nor aged, he was told.

  Told he was, in Fairy Tales

Tales of laughter and grace

This grace he saw in youthful limbs, and eternal beauty on Fairy Face.

  Nearer he went

Went closer to stare

He stared while the darkness slowly fled

Fled like the fairies, now one by one leaving

Leaving this magic land bare.

  Bared before his eyes

This one Fairy place

This place he had searched for all his life.

That life’s anguish he felt now

Now he cried out to them

And they cried out, as they heard him cry.

  Fairy faces angered

Angered they now screamed

The screams piercing high and higher still they grew

Grew till he could hear them no longer

In long silence now, their ancient faces did he view.

  Youth that never was human born

Born to never change nor grow

Growth was not the Fairy way

In that way, the Fey never go.

  Never they age, but their rage was old

Old in mind, though not form

Their forms now withered, seemed to this man

As the man watched their features gather storm.

  Perfect they were, in the smooth skin of a child

A childlike frame for their time-worn mind

Worn they were, by age-less life

This life they would in true joy gladly leave behind.

  And then, just as the Fairies came

Came in fury at the man

The man saw daylight spread in rays

And in those rays the Fey took flight.

  Never did he see again, the ancient youths in magic light

That light he never wished to seek

Never to seek that Fairy Sight.

So gather round, listen in,

Clutch your glasses of scotch and gin.

Widen your eyes, and with your mouth agape,

Listen to the tale of Slevinton Grape.

  Now, you may say that this tale is tall,

How can such and such happen at all?

Let me assure you, by the grey in my hair,

The story is true, no question there.

  Slevington Grape was a rich old coot,

Clad always in the sharpest suit.

He strutted about like a bantam cock,

Well, he owned the largest ship in the dock.

  He had no friends, he chewed no fat.

Never talked about this or that.

He dined alone and slept alone,

I doubt if he even had a phone.

  He wasn’t rude, nor was he mean,

He would tip his hat and his acts were clean.

But Slevington Grape was not a social fellow,

He preferred to sit at home and listen to the cello.

  His past was a mystery, no one knew,

Of his life before the town, no one had a clue.

Maybe he murdered, maybe he stole,

Maybe he was a sneaky mole.

  Or maybe he was an honest man,

Like the rest of us, with a better plan.

We debated, we fretted, we contemplated lore,

We worried ’till our heads were sore.

  Then one night, to settle a wager,

Struck after having bit too much lager,

Me, old Sam and Dean from Glastocker,

Went and banged Slevington’s brass knocker.

  For minute fifteen we waited, but the door stayed shut.

So we did what we felt was just.

Walked on our toes, till we found an open window,

Clambered in quietly, without making much of a row.

  The house, though big, was completely bare,

The living room, neither had table, nor chair.

We walked amazed, from room to room,

We found nothing, not even a broom.

  With less sure feet, we crept up the stairs,

Muttering under our breath, all the lord’s prayers.

Two of the three, were empty too,

The last one, we felt, held the clue.

  With clammy hands and shakey feet,

Ready to beat a fast retreat.

We approach the final door.

Not knowing what lies before.

  Ah, I see your drinks lie forlorn,

And on your faces no hint of scorn.

You are impatient to know what lay behind,

The last door, what did I find?

  So listen well, I kid you not.

Utmost respect do I have for you lot.

Behind the final door I see,

NOTHING! It is as empty as can be!

  Morning came and I was found,

On Slevington’s step, being licked by a hound.

He opened his door and let me in.

Sat me on a sofa, let me retch in his bin.

  To see the house, packed to the fray.

I didn’t know what to say.

Mumbling my thanks, I turn to leave,

When Slevington grabs on to my sleeve.

  “Your friends left you, but luck stood by,

You live because on my doorway you did lie.

You come one more night, and I can’t say,

Whether you live to see another day.”

  Two score years have passed since then,

Sammy and Dean have gone to heaven.

I expect it would be my turn soon,

Come now, you think I’m a loon?

  Disbelievers, walk towards the pier,

You will see a big house standing there.

Ring the bell and you will find,

Old Slevington, looking so kind.

  Ask him the story, if you dare,

But dear traveller, please beware.

Don’t ignore the prickly feeling in your nape.

The rain stopped. She opened the door of the bakery and stepped out into the glistening street. The bell which hung above the door jangled as she did so. There were very few cars out at that hour, and the ones out on the street zoomed through the puddles, spraying muddy water every where. Her denims were stained with brown flecks, as she walked the small distance between the bakery and the car, which was parked outside the haberdashery, around 10 shops down, waiting for her.

She stood next to the car for sometime, looking at it. It was black in color, of German make. The curves were sleek and shiny. The rain drops sparkled and shone on its body…like broken shards of glass in the sun…she thought suddenly. Her window looked like that…once when her apartment was broken into…the thief couldn’t do much damage…he tripped the alarm and cops were swarming the place even before she got there. Her lingering memory of that afternoon was all the glass on the floor and her window with the sun streaming in…and how each broken piece of her windowpane reflected the light in a different way…in a different angle…how a single beam of light hit the broken glass and broke into a thousand beams of light…

Of course, such poetic musings went out of the broken window when she got down to the task of cleaning it. And, wasn’t it the same afternoon, that she found that he had gone?

Yes, initially she had thought that the thief had managed to steal something…she even went hysterical in trying to convince the police that he had an accomplice hidden somewhere. Who had somehow made off with his stuff and his stuff alone. Even the cops knew it. They refused to look her in the eye. It was only after they left that she poured herself a drink and started to take stock of the situation she found herself.

Yes, he was gone. And he took pains, great pains, to remove every inch of himself. But, he couldn’t remove the depression he made on his favorite chair. Or, his smiling face from the framed photographs, of a time so far gone that it is difficult to believe it is true.

She sipped her vodka on ice and she thought about him. And her.

She thought of how it all fell apart.

It started with the anonymous phone calls. Always in the afternoons, the time she was least likely to be around him. Someone would him up and slander her name. At first, he refused to believe them…he would come home and tell her and they would have a good laugh about it. Then, they stopped laughing. Because of that email. An email she had once sent to one of her exes. When he was yelling at her, all she could think about was how could she have been so careless? She was good at covering up her tracks…how did the slip-up happen?

Then, things went from bad to worse. He said that he would go to the cops. She knew that he wouldn’t…he loved her too much. She loved him too…but he was getting dangerous. She was banking on his love to save her skin, but she couldn’t trust it enough. 

Sigh. And I thought this one would put and end to it. She had thought to herself.

So, that morning, she put her plan to work.

It was simple. Childishly simple.

A tiny bullet in the brain. While he slept.

Disposing the body, wasn’t much of an issue. She wrapped him in tarpaulin and handed him over to a guy who owes her a favor. Co-incidently, he worked in a Dakhma.

The attempted robbery wasn’t a part of her plans. She walked into a house swarming with cops just after she had disposed of a dead body and five humongous crates of his stuff. Not for the faint-hearted, that.

All that remained was to find the sonofawhore who sent that email, the bastard who ruined her life…the bastard who made her kill the man she thought she would finally settle down with…

And she did find him. He was the younger brother of her fourth.

He owns the bakery she walked out of. Sorry, owned. 

She didn’t go in there intending to kill him. She wanted to talk, or maybe maim him for life. But she was forced to kill him. Because he had called her a failure. He called her a bad wife.

She wasn’t a bad wife. She maintained all her vows. Honest.

I dream. Sitting on a highway, overlooking the sea.

I dream of all that I might be.