Enchanting Escapes: Enchanting Escapes

By R. L. Stedman

ESCAPE INTO ENCHANTMENT -- IN THIS TWO BOOK COLLECTION

UPON A TIME

Fairytales Reborn!

"An enchanting escape into a world of well-told fairytales"

Inside this spellbinding collection of retold tales, you'll find stories that are not-quite familiar. An assassin with a midnight deadline; a shoe store owned by Princeton Charming and a sleeping, ever-so-enchanted beast. You'll read about two children, following the scent of gingerbread, and the hunter who watches them. And of course, there's a magic mirror — how do you define "fairest" anyway? But be warned: just like magic, some stories are dark, others are funny, and a few might suck you dry...

These are stories you've read a hundred times — but never quite like this.

Upon a Time — tales of fantasy and romance, mixed with just a hint of magic.

 

***
DREAMSCAPES

Paranormal Romance!

'Scott's a crazy ice diver; he makes movies in Antarctica. A lone wolf, as the saying goes. I never intended to fall for him. But now, I've developed a craving for blood…'

'Never make music near a fairy mound, they said. But Tomas wanted somewhere warm and dry. Turns out, he had an audience. Will Tomas' life ever be the same?',

In this short story collection, you'll find a ghostly lover and a woman with magical tattoos; a floating man, and a missing store, an ice-cold scientist, and a vengeful mother-in-law.

DreamScapes contains romance and lust, passion and loss. Some tales are long, while others are bite-sized. But take care, because magic is wild and dangerous, and who knows where such fables may lead?

 

DreamScapes. Stories of fantasy and romance, mixed with just a hint of magic. Read them if you dare.
 

Welcome to DreamScapes, a spell-binding story collection.
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wild Rose Press
• Release date: Dec 5, 2021
• ISBN: 9780473598754

Book preview

Upon A Time

Upon A Time

Part One

The Stories Start

Rose

Chapter One

Transformation

Crack!

The coach tumbled and rolled, over and over, while Cynders and the Godfather scrambled about, trying to find something to hold onto: a strap, a bag. Thrown against the Godfather’s bulk, Cynders tried to keep his nose and mouth free. He could get crushed in here. Squashed into tiny pieces, and they’d have to pick him off the floor.

Thump!

The coach stopped its rolling. It lay on its side, wheels in the air, and one door in a ditch.

Damned drivers. Always unreliable, grunted the Godfather.

So now Cynders’ door was in the roof. Reaching up, the Godfather opened it and, setting his feet on Cynders’ back, scrambled out. Cynders, feeling queasy, hesitated; the cold, stormy night was not inviting. Awkwardly he pulled himself up onto the side of the coach and jumped into the darkness. Luckily, he landed on something soft. The Godfather.

Sorry, sir.

Beside the ruined coach, the horses clustered, making tiny sounds of fear. The moon flickered behind clouds ringed with silver and the wind was cold. Cynders yelped when a sharp point was thrust into his back.

Now, gents, leered the coach driver, a woman with foul breath and an eyepatch, this ain’t a hold up. It’s a fair exchange. You’ve got something I want, and me? She raised her pistol. I ’as something for you.

Scum! roared the Godfather. Ungrateful villain! After all I’ve done for you!

Oh, scum is it? hissed the coach-woman. Scum! Look at him. She turned to Cynders as though seeking an audience. And what is it he says he’s done for me? Naught but take me from me and mine. Here’s a new life for you, mistress, is what he says, and bam! There I am driving a coach and four, when I could be curled up nice and warm at home, with a place by the fire to call me own. The trouble with men like you, she turned to the Godfather, you’re only after the main chance. Not a thought for anyone else.

What do you want? asked the Godfather, quietly. Too quietly. In the dim light of the moon his hand swiveled on his cane. Cynders ducked. No ordinary cane, this. When the Godfather waved it, stuff happened.

Stow it! She hit the old man with the pistol-butt.

Owf! Dropping his stick, the Godfather cradled his hand against his chest.

Cynders had himself under control. Or he hoped he did. H-h-here, he handed her the old man’s cane. Take it.

She looked at him, seemingly surprised at his movement, and for a moment Cynders had the uncomfortable feeling of seeing himself as other people saw him; a decorative youth, good for nothing but dancing. He felt curiously small.

It is what you want, isn’t it? he asked.

Ta. She gave a quick bow.

Without his stick the Godfather seemed less threatening. One day, the old man said, I’ll find you. And when I do, it’ll be back to the alley with you. Where you belong.

The coach-woman smiled, her teeth gray in the moonlight. Her one eye gleamed. An’ where, she asked, do you think I’m going? She turned the top of the cane, click click clack. Never been happy here.

Cynders thought she was talking to herself, but then she looked at him. Want to come, lad?

He thought of his old life. Back before the Godfather had come, he’d been busy. Happy. Cleaning chimneys might not be the most respected profession, but still, he’d been proud of his craft. It had felt good to know he’d done his job well. Folk could sit by the fire, and be warm and comfortable. He’d been cleaning chimneys until that meddling Godfather had waved his cane. And now it was parties and fine clothes and handsome princesses and out every night until midnight. He was tired of it all.

You can’t go back, darling boy, pleaded the Godfather. "I made you."

Cynders looked down at his shoes. In the moonlight they twinkled, two startling stars that slid and danced when he moved. Dancing with the stars, he thought. That’s me. In shoes made of glass.

He slipped the stupid things off his feet, reached out and grabbed the driver’s hand. I’m with you.

She smiled, showing blackened teeth. Rightio. Best look out then.

She thumped the Godfather’s cane down hard, onto the rough stone road. Steam swam from its base, enveloping the coach driver, the coach and Cynders in a warm cloud that pierced the skin, making it tingle. The world seemed to shift.

See you later, she called to the Godfather as she shimmered and shrank.

The night cleared, the clouds parted. Four horses, freed from their harnesses by the transformation, squealed wildly and ran down the muddy road, dwindling until they disappeared into the darkness. The white light from the full moon showed a young man carrying a cat and a staff, fleeing to freedom.

And in the middle of the road stood an old man, staring at a ruined pumpkin.

Chapter Two

A Charming Man

You’re the new girl, ain’t ya? She chewed her gum slowly.

Hi! I held out my hand. I’m Ashley.

Ashley, is it? Looking at my hand, she moved the gum to the other cheek. Think I’ll call you Ash. It’s shorter. Hey, Zelda. It’s the new girl.

Out from the back came another shop assistant, pushing the curtains apart with a white shoulder. Hello.

Hi. I’m Ashley.

We’ll call her Ash, though, said Gum-chewer.

Zelda stared at me intently. Tall and skinny, with her white skin and black hair, she looked kind of like a zombie. An alive zombie, that doesn’t shamble and eat flesh. Like an extra in a zombie movie.

I realized I was staring back.

So, Ash, said the first girl. I’m Bernice. This here’s the shop. We sell shoes, okay? That’s what we do. We put shoes on people’s feet. We get shoes from out the back, put them on display. When we run out, we order more. Okay?

I nodded.

The shop was called Charming and the dot above the i was a crown. You’ve probably heard of us; we’re in most high-end shopping malls. And not just shoes, there’s Charming Furniture, Charming Fragrance, even Charming Travel, which specializes in travel to romantic destinations, generally places with rivers, woods, and big stone castles. There’s a feel to the Charming Brands – kind of old-fashioned, almost fairytale, but with an edge of technology and glamor. They don’t do appliances or electronics. There’s nothing fairytale about a fridge.

This was my first job on leaving school. I’d been desperate to get away from my teachers for two years, but Mom had done a deal – stay at school until I was sixteen and she’d buy me a car. On my sixteenth birthday she handed me the keys and I started looking for jobs.

I hadn’t realized how hard it would be to find work. The only thing I could find was dead-end jobs – waitressing in grotty burger bars and delivering pizzas. So when I’d seen the advertisement for a shoe store I was kind of excited.

Excited, until I met my colleagues. Zombie-fied Zelda and gum-chewing Bernice. Bernice chewed gum all the time. I never saw her putting a fresh stick in her mouth. Just chew, chew, chew on the same old piece. I think Bernice felt she was the queen of the Charming Shoe store and Zelda was her sidekick. Which left me as the maid.

I did the vacuuming, the dusting, washed the dishes, and sold the shoes. The other girls watched, commented, and told me what I was doing wrong.

---

We were out the back. I was eating lunch and Bernice was poring over photos of models on a red carpet. Her horrible feet were up on a stool. She wore stilettos to work, but she had a bunion and rock-star shoes hurt her feet.

Ash! Bernice jerked her head at the store. Customers! Go!

It was my break time, not hers. Can’t Zelda?

She’s doing the stock-take.

Zelda was always doing a stock-take. I sighed, put down the magazine and went into the store. An older woman with white-blond hair and a leopard-skin suit was eyeing the merchandise.

Can I help you, ma’am?

She smiled at me, her smooth forehead barely moving. What a pretty child you are!

Um. Thanks. I guess. Are you looking for anything special?

No, not really. I’m just … looking. She studied me carefully. You’re new here, aren’t you?

I nodded. I started last month.

Ah. I thought there was something different. She ran a finger over a glass shelf. Look! It’s clean!

I smiled.

I’m going to a dance. The store lights glinted on the stones on her wrist, her fingers. Were they real diamonds? "There’s a man. Much younger than I. Much younger. Quite lovely, in fact. I’m looking for something to wear."

Heels, I said. But not too high, or you might twist your ankle. That’s not a good look.

No. Not smart at all.

And sparkly. I looked at her jewelry. Something with rhinestones, maybe? Or sequins?

Sequins! Oh yes.

Please, have a seat. I’ll measure you up, then see what we have.

This woman looked about the same age as Mom, but much better maintained. Not a nice thing to think about your mom, but it’s true. I was always nagging Mom to put more make-up on, to get her hair cut and wear nicer clothes. But she’d just smile and shake her head and say she had other things she needed to spend her money on. There’s no reasoning with Mom. She’s more stubborn than me.

Still, this cougar-woman looked pleasant enough, and she seemed real polite. Maybe I could sell her something expensive, make my sales target for the month; she looked like she had plenty of money. We all have sales targets. I’m the only one that makes mine – the others can’t be bothered.

You’re a size nine, I said.

I took a few boxes of sparkly high heels over to her, but she shook her head. She was looking for something special. Something that sang.

I sat back on my little stool, stared up the customer. What are you going to wear to the dance?

She pulled at her skirt, looking suddenly nervous. I was thinking, this.

A suit? I said. Oh no.

I always wear leopard print.

Tell me about the dance. Where is it?

At the castle.

I nearly choked. At the castle? Are you talking about the Charming Ball?

Why, yes. Have you heard of it?

Have I heard of the Charming Ball? Well, who hasn’t? Every year the Charming Stores have a full-on ball: long dresses, candles, and an orchestra. The works. All the rich and famous go to it. And every year the top franchisees and sales staff are invited. Zelda and Bernice were hoping for an invitation. They were dreaming.

"You can’t wear leopard print to a ball."

Why not?

Stay there, I said. I’ll be right back.

I barged out the back, grabbed Zelda’s magazine – it was our store one, called A Charming Life – from her fingers. She hissed at me but I ignored her.

I passed the Life to the customer. There are photos of the ball in here. Have a look.

Another customer – a mother and a whining daughter – came into the store. I went to serve them, while my cougar-customer looked through the photographs. The whining daughter seemed happy enough with the designer sneakers (the same as the ones from the discount store, but with an extra logo added) and Mom and daughter went away happy.

I went back to cougar lady. What do you think?

I think, she said seriously, that I need to go shopping.

Tell you what, I looked around quickly to see if Zelda or Bernice was watching. Take the magazine.

Are you sure?

Quick. Pop it your bag. I rolled it up into a tube and pushed it into her velvet bag. You can show the photos to the store assistant.

Thank you. You’ve been very kind.

You’re very welcome. Come back when you’ve decided on a dress. The shoes should always match the dress, shouldn’t they? I stopped. Thought about that for a moment. Although, I added carefully, there’s some new stock just in. And they just might work for you. I’ll have a look out the back.

In the storeroom, Zelda was smoking. She ignored me and stared up at the cigarette smoke, watching it twist and curl into the air. Was she on drugs? Or just really bored? I found the new shoes tucked right at the back of a shelf. They were hideously expensive. I mean, hideously. And we are a high-end store, so hideously means lots and lots of money. But they really would go with anything. And they sparkled, glittered, and looked fabulous. Their heels were not too high, but high enough. The person wearing these shoes could dance on forever.

I took them out to the store. Zelda watched me leave.

Here they are. I removed the box lid with a flourish. Aren’t they fabulous? They’re made of a new bio-illuminate. There’s an article about them in that magazine I gave you. They conform to your feet, so they grow more comfortable the more you wear them. I took one from the box and held it to the light. What do you think? I turned it; light sparked, refracting into rainbows. They are pretty, aren’t they?

Oh yes! They’re beautiful! And you’re right. They would go with anything. Please. Can I try them on?

Of course. We have them in just your size.

It’s a wonderful moment when a hard-to-please customer finds exactly what they want. It’s a relief, of course, for the shop assistant, but it’s also a satisfaction; like helping someone achieve a goal.

My cougar lady slipped her feet into the glass slipper and smiled. She glowed. Oh, my! I could dance to heaven and back in these! How much are they?

Ah, they are quite expensive, I said.

You can’t sell those. Zelda emerged from the curtain like something from the Addams Family. Bernice wants them.

Hearing her name, Bernice came storming out. You can’t sell the glass shoes. They’re mine.

My poor customer stood there, while the other staff yelled at me. You’re hopeless! Never thinking of others! Don’t know why we put up with you!

Finally the customer cleared her throat. The diamonds on her wrist and fingers gleamed. My dears, far be it from me to take away your toys. She slipped her feet from the shoes, passed them to me. There are other stores, and other shoes. I’m sure I can find a suitable pair somewhere else.

She put on her own shoes and walked away. I’ve never felt as sad as at that moment. How stupid is that? They’re only shoes. It’s not as though she’d had food taken from her, or something important. But when she’d tried on the glass slippers, she’d looked so happy. For a moment it seemed she’d found something that was absolutely right. It’s not often you have those moments. You need to hold onto them.

Zelda and Bernice watched her go. Then Bernice gathered up the shoes and stuffed them back in the box, scattering wrapping paper and packaging. There’s a real mess here now. You’d better clean up, Ash. And where’s my magazine?

I gave it away, I said. And do your own damn cleaning. I’m on my break.

---

The next month was horrible. I got the silent treatment. Zelda smoked out the back; Bernice chewed gum and stared at me with those unblinking eyes. I took to having coffee with the hairdressers from the store next door. At least they’d talk to me. I thought about leaving, but what would I do? I’d have to find another job, or return to school. No. I couldn’t go back there – all the teachers telling me what to do, the other smart-ass kids whispering behind their hands (she couldn’t handle a job, you know). So I ignored them and tried to sell shoes.

A shopping mall is a strange place to work. It’s always bright – the lights are super-strong and the temperature never changes. There are no windows, so you have absolutely no idea what the weather outside is like, unless a customer tells you. At school, there were sports days and cultural days. There would be concerts, with visiting groups coming. There might be a competition against another school. At school, you kind of felt the seasons. But in a shopping mall each day is almost exactly the same as the day before.

The next issue of A Charming Life had a full-page spread on the Charming Ball. This year the ball would be bigger and better than ever. The Charming Brands had had a record profit. There was an article about the number of candles and another about the special soloist who had been flown in from Italy to sing at the ball. The son of the founder, Princeton Charming, would be there in person! Bernice and Zelda sat in the coffee room, whispering together. Princeton was tall, handsome, dark-haired. And of course, fabulously rich.

The following month’s issue had another announcement. Charming Brands wanted to thank the staff who had helped achieve such a wonderful result. Five staff would be selected to attend the ball! All expenses would be paid — their clothing, accessories. They would stay overnight at Craythorne Castle, where the ball was being held. They’d even meet Princeton Charming himself! Bernice bragged that she would be invited.

It was ball season at the schools, too, so the shop was crazy. Some of the rich girls from my old school came in. Of course, I was the only one serving. They’d see me and try and pretend they didn’t know who I was; I played along. I preferred to be unknown.

So I was busy serving, and for a while I didn’t notice her. But when the crowd around the counter cleared, I saw the woman with the jewelry, waving at me. She was still wearing leopard skin.

Hello. Do you remember me?

Of course. I smiled, and hoped she hadn’t returned to complain.

I got a dress, she whispered. It cost a fortune, but it’s worth it. I hope. She peered behind me. Are those other, um, ladies, here?

They’re out the back.

Do you still have any of those glass shoes? I’ve looked everywhere for something as nice, but I can’t find anything. I don’t want to get you into trouble. But those shoes were just so comfortable.

Suddenly I felt immensely angry at Bernice and Zelda. They were so selfish! I’ll go and look.

I barged past Zelda. I grabbed a few boxes so she wouldn’t realize I was after one item in particular, and returned to the store, where my customer was standing just where I’d left her. Except now there was someone beside her – a tall, dark-haired man. Was this the younger date? He was good-looking. No wonder she wanted her dress and shoes to be just right.

Here you are. I put the other boxes on the seat like a barricade, so that if Zelda or Bernice came out they wouldn’t see what I was doing. Sit down, I said. We had better check they still fit.

Oh, they will, she said. I’m sure of it. It was just like magic!

It’s the new technology. Amazing, isn’t it? I pulled them from the box, put them on the floor and she slipped her feet into them. Look, they fit perfectly! I laughed. "You shall go to the ball!"

The man smiled. You happy, Aunt?

She pouted. Oh don’t call me ‘Aunt’, darling. You know it makes me feel so old.

You’re his aunt? I asked, stupidly. Like it was any of my business. My face grew hot.

But the man laughed. You were right. She is pretty, isn’t she? He helped me to my feet. His eyes were intensely blue and, weirdly, he looked familiar. What do you think, Ashley? Would you like to come to the ball?

Me? How do you know my name?

When my aunt told me about her experience–

"Don’t call me Aunt."

… in this store, I looked up the staff records.

How could you do that? Only the head office had access. Perhaps a computer hacker might get in, but the Charming Brands were known for their security. Anyway, he didn’t look like a hacker. He looked like …

Well, he half-smiled, actually, I own the store.

Oh my gosh! You’re Princeton Charming!

Princeton Charming, himself! In this store! He was much more handsome in real life than the photos. I was going to hyperventilate!

Princeton calls me Aunt, said Cougar Lady, but I’m not related to him at all. I’m Flora, his godmother.

So you’re not going with him? To the ball?

Flora looked at Princeton. Began to laugh. Oh, my dear! Oh, no! No. The man I’m going with is much, much, better looking.

Thank you very much, said Princeton.

And younger, added Flora.

I tried not to make a face, but Princeton did.

Zelda and Bernice came into the store. There were red spots on Bernice’s cheeks.

See, I told you, said Zelda. "She’s trying to sell them again."

Ash, said Bernice, stop it. They’re …

She stopped. Zelda stopped. For a moment, the world seemed to pause.

Ah, yes, said Princeton, charmingly. These must be the other staff you mentioned, Aunt. I’m sorry to have to tell you this, ladies, but … you’re fired. I was going to send a letter, but then I thought – since my Aunt –

"Don’t call me that," hissed Flora.

"Sorry. Since Flora told me about her experiences here, I thought I’d like to meet you personally."

Zelda and Bernice stared at him, their mouths wide open. They looked like two stuffed fishes.

And Ashley, said Princeton, I’m giving you the afternoon off. Flora would like to take you shopping. For the ball.

For the ball? whispered Bernice.

You’re taking her? said Zelda.

Of course. Princeton took my hand. His fingers were warm and very gentle. I look forward to dancing with you. You’ll have to wear the new glass slippers, Ashley. I know they’ll fit you perfectly.

Chapter Three

Beauty is a Subjective Term

Define: Fairest

---

The Queen tapped her fingers on the marble dressing table. Click click click. Nails filed to a killing point.

Stupid Mirror. ‘Fair’ means ‘beauty’.

---

– Define: Beauty

---

The last mirror had done what she’d asked. But oh no, the dwarves had talked her into this new one, saying magic words like memory and voice activation and ram and she hadn’t wanted to look stupid, not in front of a bunch of dwarves. And now look at this super-sleek mirror; so beautiful on the wall and yet so, so useless. How was she supposed to find Snow White without a working mirror? An upgrade, they’d said, as if an upgrade was a good thing.

The Queen threw a crystal jar across her chamber. It shattered on the stone tiles, spilling musk-scented perfume. A serving girl scurried to clean it up, ducking low to avoid any other stray objects the Queen might throw.

I mean, you stupid mirror, is there anyone else in this kingdom more beautiful than I?

---

– Define: More beautiful

---

The Queen paused. How does one define beautiful, anyway?

Girl? she said over her shoulder.

The maid paused in her cleaning. Yes, My Lady?

What makes someone beautiful?

Kneeling on the floor, the maid carefully placed shards of glass onto a folded piece of paper. Like you, My Lady?

The Queen smiled. This girl was intelligent. Exactly, she purred. Like me.

The girl scrambled to her feet, bending her head. Beauty, My Lady? Ah, maybe something like clear skin. Red lips.

Is that all? The Queen was disappointed. "Why, you have red lips."

Thank you, My Lady.

There you are, mirror. The Queen turned her back on the servant. I want you to find out for me if there is anyone in the Kingdom with clearer skin and redder lips than I.

Behind her, the girl went to get a mop and bucket.

---

– Subjective terms. Reframe your search parameters

---

Servant, called the Queen.

The girl was folding the paper into a funnel, ready to pour the glass into a small tumbler. Yes, My Lady?

What does it mean now?

The girl ducked her head. I think, My Lady, it does not understand your question.

Why not? I am perfectly clear.

Tap tap went the nails. The Queen’s hand twitched toward another glass bottle.

The girl added quickly, "It’s a dwarf mirror. My ma works for them. They’re scientific. You need to use very specific terms to get their magic working."

Specific terms? asked the Queen grimly. I’ll show them how specific I can be. With my wand, I can be very specific. She sighed. So. What should I ask this wretched mirror?

May I, My Lady? The girl indicated the space beside the Queen.

The Queen nodded, and the servant stepped beside her. She smelt of musk perfume and bleach. Her face, what the Queen could see of it behind the fall of grubby hair, seemed pale. She was right to be nervous, thought the Queen grimly. Persons that got too close to her were apt to have a significantly shortened lifespan.

Mirror mirror, said the girl softly.

I said that. Didn’t I say that?

That’s just the start command.

Oh, said the Queen. I knew that.

The girl cleared her throat. Definition input.

---

– Inputting

---

Beauty = Fair. Beauty: blemish-free skin.

Amazing, thought the Queen. How does she make that noise in her throat? It sounds just like someone choking. She frowned, remembering: red apple, blood falling on snow.

---

– Define: blemish

---

Definition input: crease, line, or wrinkles.

Freckles, whispered the Queen.

The girl nodded. Definition continues: moles, warts, lentigines, skin tags.

---

– Definition received

---

What is a lentigine? asked the Queen

Like a freckle. The girl pointed at a sunspot on the Queen’s hand.

The Queen moved her hand quickly, hiding the imperfection.

So now, if you ask it to tell you who is the most beautiful in the land, it will tell you who has the clearest skin.

Well, said the Queen, looking pleased, that’s very clever. Back you go, girl, clean up that mess. The perfume is giving me a headache.

The girl crept back to the floor and the scrubbing brush.

The Queen stared up at the mirror’s silver screen, tapped her finger and asked: Mirror mirror, who is the most beautiful in the land?

Faces appeared on the screen. They flickered in and out, changing too rapidly to recognize any individual. A montage of faces, from happy to sad, from fat to thin, in a rainbow of skin tones. All clear-skinned, all beautiful.

All of them children.

The Queen screamed, stood up, backed away from the mirror. She stumbled over the servant, still scrubbing the floor.

Your Majesty. What is it?

The Queen pointed at the mirror. The menagerie of children floated past. But never her own face, never her own!

Girl! Make it stop!

The servant sat back on her heels, called out: Mirror. End query.

The screen faltered, the faces disappeared. The Queen slowly straightened.

Beauty, she said crisply, "is in the eye of the beholder. And I behold my face, and I say I am beautiful. I do not need to