The Forgotten Fairytales

The Forgotten Fairytales

Angela Parkhurst

Copyright © 2014 by Angela Parkhurst

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. Copyright under Berne Copyright Convention, Universal Copyright Convention, and Pan-American Copyright Convention. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission of the author.

Cover Art by Tom Barnes

Formatting by Caitlin Greer

www.angelaparkhurstbooks.com

ISBN-13: 978-1494942977

ISBN-10: 1494942976

To Joshua, my real-life Prince Charming

And also to Kevin Hettinger, Sr. may your memory live on forever.

H
eavy mist billowed around the giant trees and hills bordering us on all sides, offering the appeal of a castle hidden amongst the foothills of Germany. Snow capped mountains, wildlife, a place full of possibilities and wonder. To some, it’d be considered a dream.

As the carriage hobbled across the long bridge leading to the monstrosity—seriously, who rode in carriages anymore?—I felt anything but joy. Terror. Worry. Loathing. Trepidation. Those were viable emotions. Admiration? Not one bit.

The weight of my father’s hand on my shoulder induced a cold shiver. “Can you believe it, kiddos?” he beamed, peering out the glass to soak in the countryside. Thick auburn hair curled over his forehead, hiding the newly formed wrinkles. “Must be fate.” Or bad luck. I’d go with bad luck. “You sure you brought enough until your luggage arrives?”

Unable to speak, I nodded and my attention flickered to April, my younger sister. Translucent skin hung heavy around her dark, baggy eyes. She and Dad shared the same pale skin and auburn waves. She tugged at the sleeves of her charcoal sweater, hiding the now-fading marks on her wrists.

Though weeks had passed, it seemed like only hours ago Dad dropped the bomb—he’d accepted a teaching job in Moscow. Instead of going with him, like usual, he’d surprised us by sending us to a boarding school, where we could be around “
people our own age.
”

“We could still go with you.” Desperation crept through my bones. “Moscow would be an awesome learning experience.”

“Nonsense.” He tightened the plaid tie hidden by a hideous gray and yellow argyle sweater vest. The tips of his fingers were permanently stained from writing. He didn’t believe in using a computer to write his stories, only ink and paper. “Your mother went here, Norah. It’s only fitting you receive the same education. Plus, it’ll be fun to be on her old stompin’ grounds. Oh, the stories a castle like this could tell…”

Yeah, because she turned out to be such a gem. I rolled my eyes and curled a sandy brown strand of hair around my index finger.

“Don’t roll your eyes, Norah. She’s an amazing woman.”

So amazing she chose not to share her life with us.

My fingers trailed the N charm dangling from my necklace. Dad prattled on and on, his hands flailing about as he spoke of the beauty of the castle and its neo-gothic style. The structure dated back to some old king he studied in college. Then he moved on to jotting notes in his note pad, saying how inspiring he found the place. Once more my attention flickered to April. Her gaze was far away, in her own little world, as she’d been since the accident. Since our lives changed for the worse. Since my little sister turned into a zombie.

Seconds later, the carriage jolted to a stop and the door swung open. A man, no older than his mid-thirties, held his hand out and helped me down. Maybe chivalry wasn’t dead for people who lived in castles.

The entrance of the castle stood at least two stories high and so wide I was like a munchkin entering the home of the giant. There were no windows until what I assumed was the third floor. At the top of each peak, the stone gray coloring turned to golds and muted blues. It looked more like Cinderella’s castle than a school.

April seemed as consumed by the monstrosity as me. Her arms were twigs, thin and frail as she held herself tight. I wanted to reach forward, throw my arm around her shoulders and crack a joke. Anything to see her smile.

“We’re going to be okay,” I assured her and myself. “Starting over will be good for us.”

April sat on one of the benches, stared at the ground and muttered, “Whatever.”

Pebbles molded against the soles of my black ballet flats as I meandered toward the ledge, which overlooked a lagoon. Cold bricks scratched my palms as I soaked in the darkness below. The silent waves rocked against the pillars. A bell rang in the distance and the clatter of students rushing to their next class faintly met my ears.

My heart sank as the realization struck me. Dad and I were going to be separated for the first time. We were never apart, ever. I mean, I went to camp once, but that pretty much sucked and hardly counts.

We’ve been on the road my entire life, jumping from country to country, city to city, wherever the stories took him (and to whoever would pay him to work). I didn’t mind traveling. In fact, I enjoyed the change of scenery as much as Dad did. Unfortunately, April hadn’t.

For the last few weeks, I tried understanding my dad’s perspective. Settling permanently helped April. The doctors said stability and friends were what she needed to recover. Living like a nomad wasn’t for everyone.

“Ready, chickadees?”

I met his bright hazel eyes. While my job was to care for April here, I wondered who’d care for him. Who’d cook him breakfast and dinner? Who’d ensure he ate right and not the greasy crap he loved binging on? Dad avoided washing dishes like the plague. If he ate junk every night, he’d die of some kind of grease build-up in his arteries and where would that leave us? Parentless. We only had one to begin with; losing him was out of the question.

His hand rested heavily on my shoulder, as if sensing the terror building inside me. “Relax. Everything will be alright.” I nodded, though I felt as if nothing would ever be alright ever again. This was the beginning. The beginning of our separation. Once apart from us he’d be freed from all his fatherly duties, only needing to check in to see how we were.
No, dad isn’t like that. It’ll be fine. Everything will be fine.
Still a voice whispered the opposite.

“Plus, I promised your mom you’d attend school here after your seventeenth birthday.”

What she wanted for me didn’t matter. She had no part in my life. As far as I was concerned she could be rotting in hell and I wouldn’t think anything of it. I hated how he kept bringing her up!

Dad frowned and drew me in for a bear hug.

“You know me, kid. I can’t break promises even when I try.” The tears were desperate for an escape, but I wouldn’t cry—not in the middle of some castle entrance with weird guard dudes studying our every move. “Please take care of your sister.”

“I will. I love you.” His thick burgundy coat smelled of pine and moth balls.

“You, too.”

After saying goodbye to April, Dad was back in the carriage and down the long bridge far, far away from here. From me. My lashes batted the moisture away as I peered over the ledge, already praying for a way out. What if I sent Dad a fake letter from my mom, saying she didn’t want me here after all? Or I could always get suspended. But that wouldn’t do any good for April. If I misbehaved and left her alone, the chances of her sickness coming back could increase.

The cattails near the water below rustled. The fog lifted only enough for me to make out a figure collapsing onto the shore. I sucked in a breath and waited for the person to move. They didn’t.

“Um, excuse me?” I turned to the guards. “I think there’s a person down there.” I pointed below, but they ignored me and continued speaking in German. “There is a person down there. I think they’re in trouble.”

I hurried to look for April. She was fine, her nose covered by her sweater to stay warm, an ink pen in hand, unaware of the world as she drew designs on her flesh. Whatever, I’d handle it myself. At the end of the walkway was an opening, barely wide enough for me to shimmy through.

The run downhill was steeper than I’d imagined, the grass slippery with dew. I faced sideways in fear of losing my balance and falling down. Strands of hair blocked my vision. I swatted them away and ran faster, praying I’d reach the person in time. Praying they weren’t already dead.

The shore came into view and my heart hammered against my chest. I slid beside the body, like a baseball player sliding into home base. Placing my hands on his shoulder, I rocked him back and forth. He didn’t budge. Using all my strength, I rolled him over and placed my head to his chest. I should’ve paid attention in CPR class last year. Dad told me to learn in case of an emergency. I had retorted with a smart ass comment about someone else always being around who knew that crap. Whatever I said didn’t help me now.

With short bluish-black hair and a fading tan, I bet he was attractive when he wasn’t lifeless and paling. Desperate to try something, I tugged his arm, lifting him into an upright position—which was no easy feat because, although lean, he had to be at least six feet tall—and smacked his back hard. The sound echoed through the hills.

Seconds later, liquid splashed my hand as water sprung from his mouth in a fit of coughing. He leaned forward and spit into the dead foliage before falling back and closing his eyes. The smell of liquor drifted into my senses. Great, he’d been drinking. What kind of school was this?

“Please let me be dead,” he croaked.

“Not this time,” I said.

At the sound of my voice, his eyes jerked open. His striking jade irises bore into mine with such intensity I thought my heart stopped. The rims were dark, as if lined with kohl. We were too close, inches separating our bodies from touching. A breeze scattered through the trees, rustling the reeds and filling the air with a strange exotic language.

His lips curled into a smile, exposing two dimples. “It’s you.” I shook my head, knowing I’d never met him in my life. If I had, I certainly would have remembered dimples like his. “Eyes like a glimmering sunshine. The ripple in a stagnant sea.” He reached forward, hand dripping with water and paused right before touching my face. “I’ll know it’s her by her shine. The one whose heart beats with mine.”

There was something distant in his bloodshot eyes as he stared back at me. Like he wasn’t actually present in the moment, but somewhere else completely. His words were like lines from a poem he’d memorized and recited over and over but didn’t have meaning till now.

“What?”

“Come set me free,” was the last thing he said before his eyelids shut and he exhaled another liquor-scented breath. I wanted to wake him, but ten men bombarded us, followed by a girl with firecracker red hair. I jumped to my feet, my shoes and pants decorated with mud.

“Finn!” she shouted, her voice crackly and dry.