Tag: Story

Posted in Fiction, Published, Twisted fairytales

Doors: Part 2 of 2

Posted on by Shaily Agrawal

Author’s note: This is second and final installment of a Twisted Fairytale from my fifth short story compilation, Ugly: Twisted fairytales.

Tonight, on Halloween, we came to this village to collect the last tooth for the next five years. The next kid in line is just one year old, so it will be some time before he loses his teeth. All day long, Nui had been alternating between being lost, excited and jumpy. Every time I asked, she behaved too innocently. So, of course, I told her, “I won’t let you enter those magical doors. We have no idea where they lead and whether they let you return.”

Her reply was, “What doors?” Obviously, I never let her out of my sight all day.

When we finally reached this kid’s house, there was a storm outside. We entered the house through a crack in the window. I started the process of retrieving the tooth, while Nui stood guard at the windowsill. A newly acquired cat jumped on me. For a quarter of an hour, I hide inside a closet worried out of my head about this girl until I realised the truth. There was no way the cat could outwit her. She left before the cat came in…

…which means she entered one of the doors.

So, after I managed to dodge the cat, I now stand in front of all these doors, trying to guess which one she took and come up blank. Her spell‑phone is not reachable. I have called out her name several times but, I’m afraid, she can’t hear me. I have called her boyfriend to check if she had discussed the door that she’d prefer…But he’s as dumb as ever, “You let that vile cat eat her!” As if a cat could ever catch her. She would tie its hands and legs and roast it on a spit before it could blink. She’s my guard for that very reason—she’s a Fighter!

When I tell him about the magical doors, he comes up blank. Did she never talk to him about them? All he has to say is, “You are trying to frame her for breaking the magical rules!”

Seriously! I understand he disbelieves me, but does he even know her? She never follows rules. “I’m going after her. Do you want to join me? Together we can cover more doors.”

Suddenly, his voice changes, guarded, “We aren’t sure where those doors lead. It is too dangerous for us…”.

After a few seconds’ hesitation, he sounds braver, “Anyway, we aren’t sure that she took the doors at all. Even if she did, we don’t know which one. You just said, there are too many doors, right? What if she isn’t in the door either of us take? We’ll never find her that way. I guess, we should report her to the authorities. They will send a search party. Meanwhile, we should just wait here for her to return.”

“Come on! Authorities will wait for twenty‑four hours. That could be too late.”

“It’s probably already too late. She could already be de…” He could not complete his sentence though—because I hexed his spell‑phone to shove up his ass. He will stay busy with it until another Spellman creates a counter‑spell.

But now, he can’t help me. So, I have to take a wild guess at the door she took. In my mind, I picture her fighting fantastic creatures and living her dreams. I’m scared. I am no Fighter, just a Spellman who knows a few magic tricks. But I want to be by her side when she wins the world. Most of all, I just want to be with her. I can’t stand the thought of never seeing her smile again.

I have only one chance to guess the right door. There is no guarantee that once I am in, it will ever let me out. If I choose the wrong one, I might be stuck without her forever. The thought scares me even more. So, I try my hardest to guess.

I decide to guess the doors she’ll never take—she hates the red‑, purple‑ and yellow‑coloured doors. She finds them too girly. She’ll never take the green one—it’s too small. If she wants to break the rules, she’ll do something grand. This leaves the two huge blue doors. I approach the bigger one with burns and scratches the size of a dragon’s nails. My hands shake at the thought of facing whatever is on the other side…

She could be fighting it alone!

With that scary thought, I gather all my courage, wave my wand and pull the door with all my magic. The door wouldn’t budge. I can’t even create a crack to peep in and see if I can spot Nui anywhere. The thought of losing her forever is driving me crazy. I move in front of the next door to see if I can find her there.

But before I can do anything, a small crevice opens in the first door and Nui falls out. My heart jumps into my throat as I fly to her, worried that I am too late. But she pulls me in a bear hug instead! “What took you so long?”

“Well, you didn’t exactly leave a forwarding address. Did you?” I’m too relieved to care that I’m shouting at her.

Ideally, this is when she kicks me, but she just smiles and says, “I knew you’d know where to find me.”

I don’t want to be placated. But how could I not be? She’s fine and back, speaking of which, “Why did you come back out? You could have just pulled me in. Now I have to try opening the damned door again.”

“Naah! They left without us. Anyway, I’m not sure I’m welcome anymore—I hit the doorman,” she shrugs. My brows rise up to my hairline, so she adds, “Well! I entered the door and was waiting for you in the lobby on the other side and heard you call my name. I shouted back but I guess you couldn’t hear me from the inside. Then I heard you call my guy. I was afraid he would want to come too, so I stayed quiet. I was cheering when you hexed him, when the doorman announced that we were leaving and the next flight would not be until Halloween next year.

So, I tried reopening the door to call you in, but he stopped me, quoting some guideline that the door mustn’t be opened from the inside. I could hear you trying to open the door with magic. You could have just pulled the handle, you know! I was worried that we’d leave you behind and the doorman still won’t let me open the door.

I decided it wasn’t worth it without you. So, I punched him and let myself out.” Blushing furiously, she entwined our fingers as we flew away to our next assignment.

Author’s note: To be continued…

If you would rather read it all together in the book, Ugly: Twisted fairytales is available for free download here: Link

Photo by Ranurte on Unsplash

Posted in Fiction, Published, Twisted fairytales

Doors: Part 1 of 2

Posted on by Shaily Agrawal

Author’s note: This is first installment of a Twisted Fairytale from my fifth short story compilation, Ugly: Twisted fairytales.

Not sure which one she took—there are too many doors on this wall. Ever since the day we found this little nook in this village a couple of years back, Nui had been burning with curiosity. We come here often to collect the occasional teeth from under the pillow and look at these doors, but not as often as Nui would like to. With people having fewer children, there are fewer teeth to collect.

Okay, just in case you are confused, we are tooth faeries. She is a four‑and‑a‑quarter‑inch Fighter and I am a five‑inch Spellman. We are a team and we collect teeth together. Why?

Because, to pry out broken teeth from under the pillow, I have to cast the spells to prop up the child, move the pillow, place the coin and grab the tooth and then place the pillow and child back in place. (Not sure why they don’t just keep the tooth on the side‑table. It would be so convenient for us.) So, while I am using all my concentration for the spells, Nui stands guard to look out for any pet animals and keep them at bay.

Cats are especially nasty—stealthy, vicious and quick. Once, when my partner was out sick (a serious case of bird flu—her wings kept twitching like hummingbird’s and her voice sounded like a crow’s), a cat sneaked up on me. I found myself inside the cat’s stomach and it’s not a pretty sight. I had to tickle its intestine so that it would spit me out. Later, I had to shower for almost an hour to take off the muck from my hair. So, you get the drift…

So, all tooth fairies work in pairs to avoid such situations.

Between her and me, we have fifty‑seven villages to cover. You would think that we would be dying of overwork. But children are getting so rare now that there aren’t enough teeth to go around. In fact, most of the tooth fairies are forced to take up smithery or animal‑guard roles for smaller beings, like rats (desperate times!). Most of the teeth forges are now going out of commission too.

For any novices out there, teeth forges are where new human teeth are forged on order. Every end of the day, we submit the acquired teeth at the teeth forge. The teeth smith takes the measurements and DNA print and then forges new teeth to replace the old ones. The old teeth are recycled, of course. A delivery elf, then, submits the new teeth to the Great Guy on the seventh cloud to be dispersed as needed. All that is beyond our job role, of course.

Anyway, Nui and I are best friends, even though it is rather difficult. She has an adventurous spirit and a knack for getting into dangerous situations—like the day she decided to adopt a lost pup. He’s a Great Dane who loves catching anything that flies too close. It took us a couple of weeks and several trips to its stomach before it learnt not to catch faeries.

Her boyfriend—another Fighter fairy—doesn’t approve of the Dane. On second thought, he doesn’t approve of me either. He thinks I’m hitting on her. Initially, I told him, “Mate, I gave up on the day we became partners 93 years back.”

I had made a move on her on the first day at work and she gave me a black eye. Ever since then, I’ve stuck to being friends. But I keep that piece of information to myself. No need to humiliate myself when he doesn’t believe me anyway.

Well, his loss! Every now and then, he tells her to dump me, and she gives him the black eye instead.

Nui is the reason for being a tooth fairy worth it—it gives us an excuse to stick together all day. I think the Great Guy on the seventh cloud knows about it too and, hence, he hasn’t changed our pairing in all these 93 years—a rarity in our field.

That’s why, I let her drag me to look at these doors every time we’re in the village. They are inside an old building that belonged to a bunch of humans named ‘Karpenters’ once upon a time. They used to build things out of wood here. But a couple of decades ago, when a fire crashed a couple of walls and the roof, they deserted the place. Now, they say the place is haunted and no one visits it anymore, which suits us just fine. Every time we have an assignment in this village, we sit here for hours and look at these magical wooden doors.

How are we so sure they are magical?

Well, why would anyone place so many doors on the same wall, unless they all lead to different places? Deductive reasoning, you see.

Also, they are all different colours and sizes—some of them too small for grown up humans—and all of them are well‑worn. Some of them have claw marks all over them (Werewolves?) while one looks severely burnt (Dragons?). Nui loves to contemplate about where each door would lead us. Many times, she has asked me to come with her so that we could enter them together. I’m curious too but not crazy enough to try. With magic, you could never be sure where they would take us.

Author’s note: To be continued…

If you would rather read it all together in the book, Ugly: Twisted fairytales is available for free download here: Link

Photo by Ranurte on Unsplash

Posted in Fiction, Published, Twisted fairytales

Barred

Posted on by Shaily Agrawal

Author’s note: This is a Twisted Fairytale from my fifth short story compilation, Ugly: Twisted Fairytales.

I stand staring at the bull’s head that guards the door for almost a minute before it acknowledges me, “You are not welcome here. You do not buy drinks or food. You do not pay. You just occupy a table to stare at the barmaid. So, I’ve been instructed to keep you out.” With those words, it goes silent and begins chewing the non‑existent cud—an old habit that is hard to die even after being mounted on a wall for centuries.

I’m rather crushed. I’ve been a regular for almost 56 years, and nobody has ever said a thing. It is the biggest bar on this side of the world. There are more tables than I can count. It’s not like my occupying a table would hurt their business…

I love the place.

It’s ancient in the literal sense of the word. It was probably built before the first human (What’s‑his‑name again?) was born. Anyone who ever sat with the owner for two minutes would know that his great‑great‑great‑grandfather had paid Irish pixies in emeralds for the intricate woodwork cabinets that hold hundreds of crystal bottles of finest witch‑brewed potions from around the underworld. The rustic urn sitting quietly on the side holds never‑ending fires from the depth of Tartarus as a payment by an escaping titan. The chiller next to the sea‑side window contains glacier ice from the Arctic Sea—investment by a mermaid who holds ten percent interest in the establishment. The colourful murals across the walls speak of the beauty across realms. Portraits of banshees, goblins, dwarves, ogres, trolls, will‑o’‑wisps and fairies adorn the bar walls. And the bewitched guardian bull’s head was a gift from my forefathers for harbouring and feeding numerous wizarding families like mine during witch trials.

*****

But that is not why I love this place so much that I have visited it every evening of my life, except the last month.

I look longingly through the window at the barmaid—my Luni, as I like to call her in my mind. I’m careful not call her that in the face though; she’s not the lovey‑dovey kind. It’s her first day at work after a month’s leave. How I miss her…

I sigh. She’s the prettiest ogress ever; and she looks even prettier when she mixes potions—her luscious grey lips pinched together tight in extreme concentration as she focuses on the exact quantities of the ingredients. Even one extra pinch of the volcanic ash can burn down the ancient wooden bar table; a drop of elixir less and the drink would become poison. She walks a tight rope all day, I’d say, but she never complains.

Hades! How I miss being inside the bar. I look at the guardian bull’s head again as he continues to ignore me. I know it is pointless to force my way in. Nobody can cross the threshold without its permission. My ancestors ensured that. Of course, I can watch her through the window from here too. But she is even prettier up close. Her skin is the colour of fresh cut grass; a sweet little pug nose is set between large onyx eyes that pull me in.

I love her!

Of course, my mother doesn’t approve. According to her, “What you need is a witch who can set her own cauldron and brew her own love potion; not someone who mixes readymade potions from the market. And she should be light enough to ride the broom with grace and not weigh it down!”

As if my Luni is heavy! In fact, she’s not as tall or curvy as other ogresses. Her petite frame barely reaches 8 feet and she’s well below the normal 500+ pounds. And she’s not a hare‑brained husband‑hunter. She always held her own without a man in her life.

*****

She looks up at the window, sees me and looks away smiling her secret smile. Suddenly, the truth dawns upon me—she’s the one who forbade me from entering. Now, I wasn’t taking any of that. So, I look back at the bull’s head. “I think, there’s a slight misunderstanding. The owner never had any problems with me before. Why would he forbid my entrance now?”

“He didn’t. The barmaid did.”

Ah, so I’m right. “Would you please ask her exactly why she forbade me from entering the bar?”

The bull’s head disappears from the mount behind him. I know from 56 years of experience that he has reappeared on the empty mount inside the bar directly behind this wall. He will announce the question. Once he has the answer, he’ll reappear outside. So, I wait patiently.

Soon, my patience is rewarded with an answer, “She said that you distract her. So, you are bad for business.”

“And how exactly do I distract her? I barely speak at the bar.”

The bull’s head rolls its eyes and disappears again. As he announces the question, I can see the customers stirring, looking at me through the windows, trying to understand the cause of the confusion. The cyclops winks at me—

Or maybe, she was just blinking. With only one eye on her head, I can’t be sure, of course. The server elf gives me a meaningful smile and continues serving her table. The owner, a troll twice my size, gives me a thumbs‑up and goes back to his ledger.

The bull’s head reappears after some seconds. “You ogle at her from the table. It makes her itchy.”

“And how is that bad for business?”

The head gives a look of exasperation. It disappears with a dramatic sigh and reappears after some seconds with the reply.

“If she’s itchy, she gets distracted. What if she mixed the wrong potions? It would burn down the bar. She said that the bar table has enough scorch marks as a proof.”

“Well, I have been ogling at her for 56 years now. Could you please ask her what changed all of a sudden? Did she meet someone special during her month-long leave?”

The bull’s head is now close to tears, as expected. It disappears with exaggerated slowness and returns with a reply almost unwillingly. It probably knows that this one wouldn’t be the last, “She says, you know already.”

Of course, I do. She spent the leave with me. That’s why I miss her so fiercely. “Please ask her what she does not like—the ogling from the table or the ogling from the table? I mean, even if I stay out, I can ogle at her from the window too. Is it okay if I ogle at her from this distance?”

The dwarf on table 45 is now laughing so hard that he is in the danger of spilling his tarantula juice all over himself and his oracle date has napkins ready for the impending future.

If it wasn’t mounted, the bull would have gored me with its horns. Nose flaring with frustration, it snarled, “Look! I think, you two have mistaken me for a postal pigeon. I’m pretty tired with all this hanging around and I’m too old to be stuck between a newly married couple returning from honeymoon. Why don’t you sort this out with your wife directly?”

As expected, with those words, the door unlatches itself and hangs open so that I can enter. The pretty barmaid gives me her naughtiest smile as I take a table close to the bar a little later than usual and go back to gazing at my Luni.

END

Author’s note: If you would rather read it all together in the book, Ugly: Twisted fairytales is available for free download here: Link

Photo by Kathya Meza on Unsplash

Posted in Fiction, Published, Twisted fairytales

Captivated

Posted on by Shaily Agrawal

Author’s note: This is a Twisted Fairytale from my fifth short story compilation, Ugly: Twisted fairytales. It is a twisted version of the original Grimm’s fairytale, Rapunzel.

For somebody who had spent her entire life on the top of a tower, this entire fiasco is nothing short of earth‑shattering. I only had a few dreams…a little grass beneath my feet and the freedom to walk away. Mother had never allowed me to set a foot outside this sad place. There was no one but occasional birds for company. She said she was afraid I would leave her. She was probably right.

I would often sit at the single open window, singing to myself. One day, when this man came calling and said, “Lady! You have an angel’s voice,” I wondered who this ‘Angel’ is. So, I asked him to come in…the usual way, of course—grab the hair; I pull up! He seemed impressed. He said he never saw a woman with such long hair and unbelievable upper‑arm strength.

Then, of course, I was curious what a ‘Woman’ is? At first, he was amused by my questions. And then, he told me about women and men…and babies that look like angels. And then, of course he told me what a ‘Baby’ is. Being stuck inside the tower forever, my knowledge of outside world is quite inadequate.

He was patient with me. He showed me how babies were made—seems like lots of jostling and biting is involved, but the nice kind that makes you look forward to making babies all the time.

He kept getting tangled up with my hair, which was kind of funny to see. He asked whether I would mind if he cut them short. I told him Mother might not appreciate having to wait outside until I grow them back. He was curious about her—what she did, where she went during the day and why she lived in a tower without stairs. He went snooping around the floor. I’m sure, he would have loved to check the lower floors too but there was no door.

He was rather suspicious of our broom that stood solemnly in a corner. He asked me what it was for. Seriously! Didn’t he know what brooms did? They flew, of course. How else did Mother manage to bring me up here in the first place before my hair grew long? And of course, they cleaned the floor if you asked nicely and swatted the occasional rats and spiders that infested the place. This one, however, was a piece of scrap now—too old and out of juice.

The way he looked at the cauldron, I wondered if he is expecting something to jump out at him. I told him it wasn’t happening. Mother quit all such endeavours ever since the last undead experiment—nothing freaks you out more than a half‑built, recently‑dead man running out of the cauldron, deluded that you are his still‑alive wife. The moaning, groping of hands, chasing around to declare undying love, the smell of hot flesh still fresh from the fire…He didn’t quit howling and asking for forgiveness until he timed out at dawn. Mother decided against ‘building’ anyone out of the cauldron after that.

Somehow, that lead him to believe that I was a ‘captive’ of a ‘witch’. I told him she was my Mother but, still, he insisted on leaving before she arrived. He also made me promise not to rat him out. In turn, I made him promise to return the next day and teach me more about other good stuff. So, he came.

For many days, we tried but I didn’t see any baby arrive. Realizing that he was getting the process wrong somehow, I suggested that we try throwing some herbs in the cauldron like Mother did the other day to create a baby. But he insisted to continue trying his way.

So, we kept up to it until the day Mother came home quite earlier than usual.

She soared in right through the open window on a cool broom with a pretty pink handle, a fitted double‑seater pink seat and pink dyed twigs at the other end. She was super‑excited when she called me to get on the backseat, so I could fly with her outside everyday.

Then, she saw him…and me…together…

Something snapped inside her. She started hollering about not trusting kids ever again; nowhere being safe enough to raise a pretty daughter; and of men who deceived innocent girls into giving up their chastity (whatever that means). And then, she started shouting swear words. Most didn’t any make sense, but when she called the prince a ‘son of a bitch’, he turned into one (at least that is what Mother says).

When Mother cooled down enough, I asked if I should turn him back into a human. But, apparently, swear‑magic cannot be undone. So, I just kept him as a pet. He is cuddly and sweet. Sometimes he sulks around the tower looking for exits but he is mostly quiet and only barks to intimidate the occasional princes that happen to visit.

Honestly, he is a much better company this way.

END

Author’s note: If you would rather read it all together in the book, Ugly: Twisted fairytales is available for free download here: Link

Photo by Karsten Würth on Unsplash

Posted in Fiction, Published, Twisted fairytales

Ugly: Part 2 of 2

Posted on by Shaily Agrawal

Author’s note: This is second installment of a Twisted Fairytale from my fifth short story compilation, Ugly: Twisted fairytales. It is a twisted version of the original Grimm’s fairytale, The Frog Prince. You can find the first installment here: Ugly: Part 1

“Oh! Thank you! I promise it will only be for a few days; until my ‘other arrangement’ returns.”

“That’s alright! You can stay there as long as I do.” With a wide smile, she opens her apron pocket, and I hop in to spend the rest of the day accompanying her while she works. She carries me around to show me her life as a maid in the royal household. It is something I had never experienced before—loads of hard work and open laughter.

I kind‑of like it.

She listens to me whine about my life as a toad and other mundane things. For breakfast and lunch, she takes me to the pond and doesn’t get disgusted when I eat flies—after all, I am a toad now. It tastes good, probably because of the company. I tell her about the lily pond from my ‘place’ and she gapes open‑mouthed. I tell her about the books I have read, and she listens with a sigh, for she never learnt her letters. Then, we talk about her home and beloved late parents. I itch to tell her about mine, not to brag but to share. But I hold back. It is nice to be liked for who I am…apart from a prince.

*****

Her quarter is small, but I feel welcomed.

I sleep on her pillow. She says she doesn’t use it. I know she’s lying because it smells like her—hard work—a foreign concept I am just beginning to understand. She’s a princess in her own stead, generous in sharing her blessings with a toad.

Maybe, I should have just stayed in her room right from the beginning. Then, the whole thing would have been fun rather than a torture. And she, surely, wouldn’t have tossed me out.

*****

A week has passed since I moved in with Maggie. The castle is preparing for a royal entourage from the neighbouring kingdom—my parents, of course. They haven’t announced my situation because, I guess, they assumed I would have announced myself a week ago after becoming fully functional human as per the plan. They will be crushed to find out that I didn’t make it. The local royal family is all aflutter as they plan to get one of the six princesses married to their neighbours’ crown prince. Fat chances!

But at least, I will be able to go back home. The thought should make me happy, but something feels off—going back home…without Maggie…

I turn to look at the only person who genuinely likes me for who I am.

Moonlight is falling on her hands that bear the calluses and burns from the royal kitchen. I will never be able to look down upon a maid again.

A few hours back, by the fireside, I had told her about my parentage and the curse. I had asked her to come with me. She had turned down the offer saying she wouldn’t be a tag‑along. “Once you become a human again, you will be ashamed to be associated with a maid.” With those words, she had closed the argument.

The words had wrapped themselves tightly around my throat making it difficult to breath. Can I ever be ashamed of her? The old prince who had laughed on the witch with a wart would surely be. Once I am a human, if I am ever a human again, will I become the same person? Will I be ashamed of my sole source of comfort?

I look at her with renewed sight. She isn’t pretty in the strict sense of the word…round face with freckles, pimples, large eyes, a wide smile and an ample girth. But she is the most beautiful woman in my world—the warm sunshine to my cloudy moods. The thought of leaving without her feels so wrong…as if I would never smile again.

Will she miss me too?

As if on the cue, she turns to my side, wide awake, looking at my face with tear‑filled eyes. I kiss her warm cheeks, and she smiles a sad smile. I hug her face with my tiny arms and drift away to sleep.

Morning has returned with her in my arms. She is now small and green—a rather pretty toad herself, looking a little baffled but not displeased. She probably understands what this change means.

I’m hoping, she’ll agree to marry me.

END

If you would rather read it all together in the book, Ugly: Twisted fairytales, is available for free download here: Link

Posted in Fiction, Published, Twisted fairytales

Ugly: Part 1 of 2

Posted on by Shaily Agrawal

Author’s note: This is first installment of a Twisted Fairytale from my fifth short story compilation, Ugly: Twisted fairytales. It is a twisted version of the original Grimm’s fairytale, The Frog Prince.

“Why the long face, handsome?”

My world is spinning in front of my eyes and Maggie is teasing me. I want to snarl in response, but she wears a genuine smile, as if she’s trying to cheer me up. Well, she doesn’t need to humour me. I’m a nobody…

Lower than a nobody—I’m a toad…

And it seems like I’m going to be one forever!

Why did I insult that witch? Loads of people have warts on their noses, but out of all those ugly faces, I had to pick a witch to call a toad! And now I’m one!

I should probably have begged her for mercy or something. But I was naive enough to believe that, as the crown prince, my command was enough to force her hand. So, I had just ordered her to take away the curse, expecting her to relent. And she did!

Her ‘cure’ was too simple—True Love’s first kiss. Since that was impossible, considering nobody loves toads, (except toads, of course) she gave another cure. I had to eat dinner with a princess from her plate and sleep in her bed for three nights without telling her (or anybody she knew) about my reality or the curse. Then, I would become myself again. Simple!

How stupid of me to believe her! She was simply trying to shake me off. Which princess would ever let a toad within a mile’s radius? I should have understood when the witch went missing the very next day. Then, I wouldn’t have embarked on this fool’s errand alone. I had begged my parents to let me travel alone in my carriage to this far‑away palace with only a carriage driver for company. The idea was that there were six pretty princesses around my age here and I believed that it would increase my chances several times.

*****

For three long months, I hid inside the castle garden pond, waiting for a chance to speak to one of them. All the while, I risked being eaten by this vile cat they own. And then, they had these goldfishes in the pond who would ask me who I was and then promptly forget—every three seconds!

I was beginning to wonder when this torture would end when, on a fateful day, a stork decided that I was a good change of taste. So, he gulped me in. As expected, he gagged on the taste and spat me out. Then, he had the audacity to curse me for ‘luring’ him into believing that I was a delicious frog! I should have felt insulted, I guess, but I was just too glad to be alive.

I made a deal with him. I offered him a month‑long free supply of frogs if he would draw one of those princesses close to the pond. So, finally, three days back, one of the pricesses was playing with a gold ball in the garden when he caught it in the air and dropped it in the pond. It worked. She started crying. I offered to bring it back if she would let me eat from her plate and sleep in her bed for three nights. She was distraught enough to promise me ‘anything in return’. So, I fished it out and became entitled to the royal treatment once again, briefly. I instantly sent away my carriage to give my parents the ‘good news’.

For three nights, I ate from the princess’s plate and slept in her bed as her eyes threw daggers at me—now that she had the gold ball, she wasn’t feeling so grateful anymore! I don’t think she would have gone through her promise if her father hadn’t insisted she kept her word.

The princess left the room at the crack of dawn and never returned until it was time for dinner when she was obliged to eat with me. So long, I used to like her from afar and hoped that on the dawn of the fourth day, once I become myself again, she would agree to marry me. But I’m not sure I like her anymore. It could be because she treats me like I’m something stuck to the bottom of her elegant shoes.

And today is the morning of the fourth day. Not even a single wart has disappeared from my body. And the princess has ordered me to get out of her castle, or she’d have toad’s legs for breakfast. Unfortunately, my carriage would take at least seven more days to return and, if I leave now, the carriage driver would never be able find me. So, here I sit, wondering what to do.

And Maggie here is trying to chat with me as if I’m her friend. She is a maid—the only woman in the castle who does not shriek at my sight, and hence, she has been managing the work in the princess’s room ever since I have shifted here. So, I guess, some respect is due. “I’m leaving. Thank you for the hospitality.”

She smiles understandingly, “The princess is not fond of toads, I guess. Look, if you still need a place to live in, my quarter is close by. It’s not as comfortable as the main castle, but it has enough room for you. And I can fix you a comfortable bed.”

Author’s note: To be continued…

If you would rather read it all together in the book, Ugly: Twisted fairytales is available for free download here: Link

Posted in Random Thoughts, Published

Fifth Book | Ugly: Twisted Fairytales

Posted on by Shaily Agrawal

Hi Everyone,

I have published my fifth book, Ugly: Twisted fairytales. It is a compilation of fairytales with imperfect toads, witchy mothers, fighter fairies and mounted bull’s head that still chew the cud.

Some of them are Grimms’ offshoot. Others are original.

Genre: Fiction, Fantasy, Fairytales

I will post the individual stories right here on my blog. But if you are interested in the book itself, the PDF is available for free download here: Free Books by Shaily

Go ahead and enjoy!

Posted in Fiction, Published, Science Fiction

The Phlebologist: Part 3 of 3

Posted on by Shaily Agrawal

Author’s note: This is third installment of a Science Fiction story from my fourth book, 7D: Tales from the Future. You can find the other installments here: The Phlebologist: Part 1 and Part 2

Day 6

Now that I had tried everything else, I moved to Plan C—entering the facility. In theory, the plan was simple. Get inside a busy facility close to the closing time, hide behind something until the place closes for the day and spy around once it is empty of people.

Simple…in theory.

In reality, it is too difficult to hide my five-foot eight-inches frame in a lab. Huge head offices are simpler with too many unused rooms to hide in, but labs are quite small with less rooms and usually no cover. I had seen it before. At that time, I had walked back out pretending I was looking for a restroom, because Trespassing is a crime. If I am caught, I will have to serve jail time, and my pictures in the news could kill my anonymity and career as an Industrial Spy.

So, I saved Trespassing for the most difficult and most paying cases. This one qualified as both.

I had deliberately waited till Sunday, a public holiday, and chose the busiest close of the day hours to ensure that the facility was packed with people to give me the much‑needed cover and more time to hunt for information if I didn’t get a space to hide.

Three technicians were collecting samples of fifteen patients at a time with three to four minutes between batches. With seventy-five patients ahead of me, I had a maximum of twelve to fifteen minutes if I did not get a cover (which seemed highly probable at the time). The hidden cameras in my earrings were already capturing footage. As soon as the technicians took samples from the people at the front, I quietly left my place.

I pretended as if I was looking for the toilet and, stealthily, slipped inside the door with the “Employees only” sign. The short lobby ended in a busy hall—no cover. I had a couple of minutes at the most before a technician came out for more samples and discovered me standing in the lobby. I should have turned back right then but the lure was too strong. For the moment, I was a bat—blind and focused on the target alone.

I peeped in the hall. It looked like all offices. The room was bustling with activity and sounds of chit‑chat. Several employees sat on comfortable chairs with the latest Palmtops. Some of them used huge Wall Screens with virtual keypad holograms floating close to their fingers. Small racks of labelled blood vials sat atop a drinks table in the middle. There was no microscope in the sight to test the blood. The grey‑haired man closest to me had just finished filling a blood report form on his Wall screen and sent it to the patient’s email.

I focused on him as he picked a vial, excited to finally know the trade secret of Sangue Heder Labs.

He took a long swig of the blood, swirled it in his mouth and started filling the blood report form.

I let out a tiny gasp.

Suddenly, all the eyes in the room zeroed on me. The grey‑haired man I had been concentrating on was suddenly behind me and had blocked my retreat. His canines grew. I think, I fainted.

I remember hearing a voice from afar. “Set her aside for dinner, Luke. We are trying to concentrate on work here.” Now I lay inside a coffin, probably six feet underground, complete with fangs and all. Having tried unsuccessfully to claw my way out for a couple of hours, I now wait for them to come back for me.

I’m hungry. I hope they will give me a job as a Phlebologist.

END

Author’s note: If you would rather read it all together in the book, 7D: Tales from the Future is available for free download here: Link

Photo by Akram Huseyn on Unsplash

Posted in Fiction, Published, Science Fiction

The Phlebologist: Part 2 of 3

Posted on by Shaily Agrawal

Author’s note: This is second installment of a Science Fiction story from my fourth book, 7D: Tales from the Future. You can find the first installment here: The Phlebologist: Part 1

Day 3

I decided to catch an employee during a lunch break and strike a conversation. A couple of drinks and an attentive listener can loosen a tongue easily. Usually, they begin with the rant about too much workload, bad manager and difficult clients, and, with careful steering, can easily overstep the line of discretion and divulge confidential information without really knowing.

So, I donned a brunette wig and boarded my trusted faded‑grey copter—both common and anonymous. Stylish rides draw attention and blending in with the crowd was imperative for my job. I flew to the biggest Sangue Heder Lab and parked in the overcrowded rooftop parking of the Food Court next door. I sat down next to the biggest window from where I could see the reception of the lab through the glass wall as I pretended to work on my palmtop.

The receptionist was a tall, gorgeous man with red hair, and suddenly I wanted to visit the lab just so that I could look at him closely. I shook my head to clear it. Where did that come from? A couple of lab technicians—different races but just as breath‑taking—were collecting blood samples. Are all Proxima natives like that? Does fresh air and unprocessed food make you look like Roman Gods?

I waited at the cafeteria all afternoon. The Food court was busy but none of its clients were Lab employees—only the Lab patrons nursing their pinpricks and their attendants. The closest couple was discussing the blood results they had received via email within a couple of minutes of tests. The stream of patients coming for tests never ceased, and none of the employees came out for lunch. The organisation was probably ordering food and drinks for its employees to stop them from leaving their desk to eat. I gave up at midnight.

The facility was the biggest and, hence, the busiest, so I decided to try at a smaller facility the next day.

Something wasn’t feeling right about this assignment—the constant failure felt like a sign. Most of the lab’s clientele belonged to low‑income societies who wouldn’t have been able to afford these tests. If it wasn’t for the unbelievably low rates of Sangue Heder Labs, they all could have died without a diagnosis.

Conscience pricked me for a brief moment.

Then it passed. I could see myself luxuriating at the Proxima resorts, looking like a Goddess, with fresh air and unprocessed food, and preferably with a boyfriend from the same planet.

*****

Day 4

On day four, I took the Airbus to a different city and haunted the streets outside a smaller facility of the Sangue Heder Labs on my uber‑expensive featherweight eco‑bike. It was ideal for following people. When needed, I could simply fish it out of my purse, unfold it and get going at a moment’s notice. It removed the need to switch between following on foot and rushing to the air parking area to retrieve my copter first.

I had planned to follow any employees out for a coffee or stroll and meet them ‘by chance’. It was a long wait, and I was exhausted by the time a female receptionist finally ventured out alone in late evening. I saw an opening, but as I drew closer, I had an urge to walk over and touch her skin—it was so flawless that it glowed in the moonlight. Considering I am straight…

By the time I had collected my wits, she was gone. The opportunity to strike a conversation had passed. When she returned shortly, she was carrying an icebox, which meant she wouldn’t stay long enough to talk.

*****

Day 5

Next day, I tried another facility. While I waited for the employees to walk out to a close‑by cafe for a break, I searched the employees online by uploading the pictures I had taken the day before.

Nothing.

One of the pictures strikingly resembled one of the war prisoners from the Second World War, but I wasn’t interested in History lessons right now.

No employee came out all day. At midnight, they closed the facility and all of them walked out together. I followed them from a distance, hoping to catch one of them once they split‑up at the Airbus station, but I lost them once they all turned into a dark street.

I should have given up then, considering the next move was too risky. But I was nothing if not pig‑headed.

Author’s note: To be continued…

If you would rather read it all together in the book, 7D: Tales from the Future is available for free download here: Link

Photo by Akram Huseyn on Unsplash

Posted in Fiction, Published, Science Fiction

The Phlebologist: Part 1 of 3

Posted on by Shaily Agrawal

Author’s note: This is first installment of a Science Fiction story from my fourth book, 7D: Tales from the Future. You can find the second installment here: The Phlebologist: Part 2

This assignment was a bad idea. The signs were evident right from the beginning—not sure how I missed them all. Maybe, the gold in sight had blinded me with its glare. Now all I could do was freak out inside this dark place, waiting for someone to return for me.

I wish I had missed that call from Mikhael, my employer, six days back. I knew he wanted to call me back from my vacation yet again—fourth time in a row. That day, if I could spit venom, I would have killed his hologram that grew from my watch.

“You better make it worth my time if I have to kill my vacation for you again.”

But he knew exactly how to pacify me. “My dear, the client promises to weigh you in gold.”

With those golden words, he had all my attention. Nothing motivated me better than money. Love I had too much of—being tall and curvy with perfect features. I stopped counting after my tenth boyfriend.

“Can’t tell you their name for privacy but the client is a giant in the Blood Test industry. They own thousands of laboratories across Earth with the annual turnover of several billion dollars. They are looking for information about…”

“…Sangue Heder Labs,” I finished his thought. He nodded.

I continued, “Of course! The fastest‑growing laboratory chain on Earth…I assume, our client is looking for their ground‑breaking technology that diagnoses the complete list of diseases, including Cancer, from a single vial of blood within minutes.”

He nodded again.

The breakthrough was nothing short of a miracle and was all over the news last year. By providing general health check‑ups at unbelievably low rates, they had wiped out the smaller competition in a matter of months. Now, even bigger competitors were struggling to stay open.

 “I’m on it. I’ll have results in a week or less. Keep that gold ready!”

*****

Day 1

My internet search was the first sign that I should have backed out.

In a universe connected tightly through the Universe Wide Web, celebrities can’t sneeze without someone publishing it. Yet hardly any information existed about the most successful lab chain on Earth. All I found was that the Sangue Heder Labs Inc. was owned by Marco De Rossi, the youngest member of a multi‑billionaire family. Two hundred years back, in 2086, his family was the first to move to Proxima Centauri B, the closest habitable planet. They travelled on the legendary Spaceship Noah’s Ark, loaded with seeds of all kinds and DNA of all varieties of animal life in cryopreserved state. They sowed the seeds and established the first biological lab in Proxima to bring the DNAs to life. Most of them survived on Proxima, populating the empty planet in the next two hundred years. They turned the planet into a wildlife preserve and a favoured travel destination for the super‑rich celebrities in the known universe. But the De Rossi family declined to share any pictures of their family members throughout its five-hundred years of history on Earth and Proxima—a practice Marco De Rossi seemed to have kept alive till date.

His company was equally elusive. Sangue Heder Labs’ website stated an address on Proxima as the company headquarter. It had mentioned using an ‘ancient technique’ to diagnose diseases from the blood. But their diagnosis accuracy was correct up to three decimal digits. Was it even possible with anything ancient?

Next, I contacted the patent office—off the record—but found nothing. Sangue Heder Labs hadn’t patented the ‘technique’, or maybe they couldn’t if it really was ancient. To check whether there was any ‘ancient’ technique offering diagnosis through blood, I deep searched medical sites from Earth and Proxima but to no avail. Some Proxima health resorts offered ancient healing through local herbs, animal extracts, and solar heat but there was nothing about diagnosis through blood.

The pictures of Proxima left me wondering how it would be to live on a planet where trees still grew in forests and not pots. Someday, with all the gold I am going to earn soon, I may own a home there.

*****

Day 2

The next day, I moved to Plan B, looking for the employees of Sangue Heder Labs on social media. Employees are a treasure of information. There is always someone complaining about their job and technological challenges. But soon, I realized that they probably had some employee agreement barring them from declaring their job online because I found no one.

With a couple of days gone, I decided to contact them personally. Everybody has a price tag: some talk for money, others for ‘love’. But my contacts from the Earth Employee Benefits organisation could not dig out a single email, address or phone number. Apparently, both the organisation and its employees were ‘alien nationals’ and protected by the inter‑planetary laws.

I should have stopped then, but my reputation as the best Industrial Spy on Earth wasn’t for nothing.

Author’s note: To be continued…

If you would rather read it all together in the book, 7D: Tales from the Future is available for free download here: Link

Photo by Akram Huseyn on Unsplash