Category: Fiction Friday

A Masked Man Walked Into a Bar…

On By cherylmahoneyIn Fiction Friday2 Comments

Several weeks ago, the Blog Hop topic centered on characters from different origins meeting each other.  A fascinating subject–and one I’ve played with before, as I once wrote a few friends short stories for their birthdays, centered around the idea of a group of their favorite characters hanging out in a tavern together.

Just for fun, I thought I’d share the opening of one of those stories, “Masked Men and Zombies.”  I’m not sure if it will make sense to anyone but my friends, but if people are amused, perhaps I’ll share more another day.  🙂

I don’t own any of the characters in the story (except the squirrel), no copyright infringement intended, etc., etc.  And by the way, this will make a lot more sense if you’ve seen this video from Eddie Izzard.

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The date was March 24th.  The year was absolutely impossible to determine based on the people present.  But it was definitely March 24th, in a tavern whose location is also somewhat vague.  From whatever street it fronted on, in a city unknown, a man was entering.  He was tall, dressed all in black, and had a vaguely menacing air.  Considering this tavern, and considering the inspiration behind its population, from this description there were at least four distinct individuals this could have been.  The fact that he was wearing a mask did not narrow things down.

The unidentified masked man (hereafter UMM, until we latch onto a name) strode into the tavern and crossed through the crowded room to the bar.  To all appearances, there was no one at said-bar.  Said-UMM slammed one black-gloved fist on the countertop and demanded, “Bartender!”

A slightly drunken pirate popped up from behind the bar.  “You rang?” Continue reading “A Masked Man Walked Into a Bar…” →

The Boy on the Corner

On By cherylmahoneyIn Fiction Friday3 Comments

This is one of my favorites among the short stories I’ve written.  I posted it here somewhere back at the beginning of the blog, but I thought I’d share it again.

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           When he shut his eyes, he could almost forget he was cold.  February 1882 in Paris, and in all his long experience of nine years the boy couldn’t remember a colder winter.  The wind howled down the street, past the shabby buildings and across the boy’s thin cheek.  He kept his eyes shut and concentrated on the music.

The violin played in counterpoint to the wind, neither quite strong enough to defeat the other.  The boy ignored the constant trudge of footsteps, the mutter of voices, the whistle of the wind, and tried very, very hard to hear only the music.  He opened his eyes only at the sound of coins clinking together.  He looked down at the violin case open on the ground at his feet, and easily identified the one that had been added.  There weren’t very many coins there.  He looked up to see a tall man wrapped in a long black cloak, hat pulled low over his forehead, casting his face in shadows.

“Merci, monsieur,” the boy murmured.  His eyes dropped and he continued playing his violin.

The man didn’t move, and as the moments passed the boy became perplexed.  People stood and listened, once in a while, in warm weather.  In the cold and the dim of a winter twilight people wrapped their coats tight around them and hurried on, heads down, intent on whatever warm fireside was waiting before them.  If they dropped a coin at all it was without stopping, often without even looking, certainly without waiting for the boy’s whispered “merci.”

The moments slipped past.  The violin music didn’t falter but neither did the man move and finally the boy’s eyes stole up to his face again.

Continue reading “The Boy on the Corner” →

Visiting Stonehenge

On By cherylmahoneyIn Fiction Friday10 Comments

With my trip to England this month, I thought it would be fun to share again my reflection on a past visit–specifically, to Stonehenge.  I don’t plan to head out that way this time, but here’s a story about the last time I was there.

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I swear Stonehenge was laughing at us.

Not literally, of course, I don’t mean it like that.  But in a metaphorical, immense, stony kind of way, Stonehenge was definitely laughing.

I think Stonehenge is maybe about an hour or two bus ride outside of London.  I say “bus ride” because I think tour buses are all that go there; tour buses and druids, maybe.  I was on a tour bus when I went there.  Tour buses usually make me sleepy, which is why I’m not so sure about the time length to get there.  I woke up quick when we got there though.  Stonehenge is not something to be slept through.

Continue reading “Visiting Stonehenge” →

A Retelling of Cinderella

On By cherylmahoneyIn Fiction Friday2 Comments

Because it’s spring and I’m greatly enjoying the Once Upon a Time Challenge, I thought I’d post a fairy tale Fiction Friday this week.  This is a short retelling of Cinderella, which I posted about a year ago but thought I’d share again.  This started out as a Spanish class assignment, which I rewrote and expanded in English.  It has much of the same mentality that eventually led me to write novel-length retellings of fairy tales…

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Once upon a time in a far off kingdom there lived a maiden who was very beautiful and very kind.  Fairy tales always begin the same way, and the maidens are always very beautiful and very kind.  Often their name is Ella, as was the case for the maiden we’re talking about.  This particular maiden, as do most of them, had long blond hair, very fair skin and eyes of the deepest blue.  She didn’t have any initiative, spirit or goals for her life.

Continue reading “A Retelling of Cinderella” →

The Witch’s Daughter

On By cherylmahoneyIn Fiction Friday5 Comments

Today’s short story is another one from my NaNo novel, told by my storytelling main character, Lyra.  You don’t have to know any background, except perhaps that her stories are heavily influenced by the Brothers Grimm, so feel free to skip on down to the story if you like.  There is a little context that may be interesting though.

The non-NaNo novel draft I’m working on is about Jasper, a wandering adventurer, and Julie, a girl he rescues who ends up traveling with him.  There’s also Tom, a talking cat.  In one chapter, they go to the castle of the Twelve Dancing Princesses, which then became the basis for my NaNo novel, telling the story from one princess’ point of view.  Lyra spends some time talking to Julie, and learns a little about her–her mother was a witch, her father taught her to read, she has a conceited orange cat and Jasper can’t read.  Lyra goes on to make up a story about Julie and Jasper to tell her sisters.  Because she doesn’t know much, it bears only slight resemblance to the story in my other novel.  But it was fun to take several of the same elements, and throw them together into a new story.

So here is Lyra’s mostly untrue story about a witch’s daughter and a wandering adventurer.

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The Witch’s Daughter

I told a tale that began once upon a time not too long ago, about a girl whose father taught her to read.  The girl’s father died when she was still quite young, which left her alone with her mother.  This was doubly sad, because her mother, it turns out, was a witch, in every sense of the word.  She was far more interested in her magic and her spells than in her daughter, and the girl was mostly left to herself.  She explored the crumbly old castle they lived in, and read every one of her father’s books.

In due time, the girl grew up into a young woman, one who dreamed of escaping her mother and finding her own path through the world.  Since she had never been beyond the castle and knew no one else, she was afraid to run away alone.  She was also afraid that her mother would catch her, as a witch has many resources to hand.  And if she caught her, there were far too many horrible things she could do.  But the girl was smart, and patient, and so she waited for her opportunity to escape.

One dark night there was a terrible storm, and out of the midst of the storm there came a man on horseback who had lost his way.  He came to the castle to ask for shelter.  The witch saw that he was young and strong and there were many uses she could find for one such as him.  The girl saw that he was handsome, with hazel eyes.  The witch invited the young man in, and told him he must stay until the storm was gone. Continue reading “The Witch’s Daughter” →