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I get so much glee out of writing characters who are impossibly good and kind and innocent. Like, why yes, he does help old ladies across the road and volunteers at homeless shelters and saves lost puppies, and I'm not going to apologize. I love him to bits.

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I've found I love fairy tale mashups. Not mashups where all the fairy tale characters live in Fairy Tale Land, and not ones that stick all the most famous fairy tale objects and tropes into one story. No, I love retellings that mostly retell one fairy tale, but mixes it with other fairy tales in ways that draw out the similarities between the stories, so they blend together and enhance each other.

Like in my "East of the Sun, West of the Moon" retelling. Mashing it up with "Alleleirauh" enhanced and filled in certain spots in the story. Instead of offering three golden gifts to the troll queen, the heroine trades the three sun, moon, and stars dresses from "Alleleirauh". Instead of spending three nights with her lost husband, who doesn't wake up when she tries to speak with him, she goes to three dances with a husband who doesn't remember her. After she betrayed her cursed husband, she was left with nothing but the coat-of-all-furs from "Alleleirauh"--her husband lost his bear form, and she gained an animal pelt.

With a little tweaking, these stories fit together like puzzle pieces. All you have to do is line up the parallel plot points. It offers a new angle on both stories, drawing out new insights about each tale. It's fun and rewarding and I love when I manage to make it work.

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A Guide to the Stories Posted On This Blog in 2024

Retellings

After Midnight

Retelling of: Cinderella (science fiction)

Word Count: 577 words (unfinished)

Premise: A young girl on another world struggles to provide for her stepsisters.

The Beggar's Door

Retelling of: King Thrushbeard

Word Count: 855 words

Premise: After a princess refuses all her suitors, her father vows to marry her to the man of his choice--but forgets to account for an old tradition.

A Daughter's Gift

Retelling of: Beauty and the Beast

Word Count: 660 words

Premise: A young woman learns the truth behind her father's disappearance and his last gift to her.

For Love of the Princess

Retelling of: Sleeping Beauty

Word Count: 2,689 words

Premise: When a curse dooms a princess and all in her palace to sleep for a hundred years, her ladies-in-waiting and a young guard stay and face the curse with her.

A Garden of Wishes

Retelling of: The Twelve Dancing Princesses

Word Count: 8,459 words

Premise: A garden boy falls in love with a princess and works to solve the magical mystery surrounding her and her sisters.

Good Rich Earth

Retelling of: The Secret Garden

Word Count: 894 words

Premise: After a childhood spent on a military space station, Mary is sent to live on a devastated Earth and becomes obsessed with finding the secret garden planted by her guardian's late wife.

Jack and His Wife

Retelling of: Jack and the Beanstalk

Word Count: 967 words

Premise: Jack's wife follows him up the beanstalk, and learns he might not be the hapless fool she'd believed him to be.

Marks of Loyalty

Retelling of: Maid Maleen

Word Count: 4,404 words

Premise: After seven years of imprisonment in a tower, a woman struggles to survive in a war-torn land, and tries to learn what has become of the prince she loved.

The Nightingale Returns

Retelling of: The Nightingale

Word Count: 743 words

Premise: A former opera singer is summoned to the deathbed of the man who once loved and abandoned her.

The Other Option

Retelling of: Rumpelstiltskin

Word Count: 214 words

Premise: When a magical creature demands a woman's firstborn as payment for help, the woman decides to save herself.

Reflection

Retelling of: Snow White and the Seven Dwarves

Word Count: 2,317 words

Premise: An aging, appearance-obsessed queen tries to destroy the beautiful, innocent princess she views as her rival, but may end up destroying herself.

The Unseen Soldier

Retelling of: The Twelve Dancing Princesses

Word Count: 544 words

Premise: A former soldier struggles to find a way to break his curse of invisibility.

A Wise Pair of Fools

Retelling of: The Farmer's Clever Daughter

Word Count: 4,337 words

Premise: A peasant girl outwits and captures the heart of an arrogant, overeducated king.

Original Fantasy

The Return of Queen Emma

Word Count: 933 words

Completion Status: Complete

Genre: Portal fantasy/magical realism

Premise: After ruling as queen of a fantasy world, a girl rejoices to return to an ordinary childhood on Earth.

Daughter of the House of Dreams

Word Count: 755 words

Completion Status: Standalone fragment

Genre: Secondary world fantasy

Premise: Going to the dream shop on Faraway Lane, you'll encounter some fantastical wonders.

Honors from the King

Word Count: 2,172 words

Completion Status: Complete

Genre: Portal fantasy

Premise: After slaying a giant, a young girl plans to ask the king of a fantastical realm to help her get home to Earth, but learns the story is not as simple as she thought.

Queen of the Fairies

Word Count: 1,769 words

Completion Status: Complete

Genre: Historical fantasy

Premise: In Victorian England, a young girl captures a flower fairy and meets a scientist who studies them.

A Feast in the Lanternwood

Word Count: 2,031 words

Completion Status: Complete

Genre: Secondary world non-magical fantasy

Premise: An enemy soldier begs for food at a festival held by a peaceful forest community.

Heartsong

Word Count: 558 words

Completion Status: Complete

Genre: Magical realism

Premise: A woman struggles to find her soulmate in a world where soulmates are identified through song.

Shadowstruck

Word Count: 871 words

Completion status: Incomplete, plans to continue

Genre: Secondary world fantasy

Premise: The death of a girl's mother reveals secrets about her life.

Shadowstruck, Part Two

Word Count: 783 words

Completion Status: Incomplete, plans to continue

Genre: Secondary world fantasy

Premise: While trying to escape the country, a girl receives unexpected help from a mysterious stranger.

Sylvia

Word Count: 398 words

Completion Status: Complete

Genre: Space fantasy

Premise: A woman must decide whether to board a ship and sail to the moon to find the brother who left the family years ago.

The Waters of Time

Word Count: 1,164 words

Completion Status: Complete

Genre: Secondary world fantasy

Premise: A mermaid librarian travels to the past to retrieve a stolen book and finds herself entangled in a web of intrigue.

The Memory Garden

Word Count: 1,091 words

Completion Status: Complete

Genre: Original fairy tale

Premise: The gardens of a castle have a strange relationship with time after dark.

From the Other Side of the End of the World

Word Count: 4,196 words

Completion Status: Complete

Genre: Secondary world fantasy/time travel

Premise: A young woman writes letters to her time-traveling sister who works as a nurse in a historical war zone, and starts a correspondence with one of her patients.

Stolen Moments

Word Count: 745 words

Completion Status: Complete

Genre: Original fairy tale

Premise: At a masquerade ball, a princess encounters the husband who betrayed her.

Instructions

Word Count: 196 words

Completion Status: Complete flash fiction

Genre: Secondary world non-magical fantasy

Premise: In a fantasy kingdom, a rider is sent out with an important message.

Original Science Fiction

Warning Signs

Word Count: 189 words

Completion Status: Complete

Premise: A man having lunch at a seaside cafe receives a strange warning from a time traveler.

Beyond the Legend

Word Count: 1,097 words

Completion Status: Complete, part of Arateph series

Premise: The long-lost prince of an alien world encounters an alternate-history film about his life.

Jules and Vern

Word Count: 456 words

Completion Status: Complete, part of Jules and Vern series

Premise: On a time-travel cruise, a poor academic encounters a world-weary heiress.

A Jules and Vern Christmas

Word Count: 1,543 words

Completion Status: Complete

Premise: A poor academic offers a gift that helps a jaded heiress to appreciate the Christmas season.

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4, 6, and 11 for writeblr asks 💖

4. what is your favourite line you wrote this year?

I don't know about absolute favorite, but here are some lines I like.

I love this ending line (and I should have used it as the very ending line) from "A Daughter's Gift".

I know well the price of love. I pay it gladly.

I like these lines from "Reflection". First, these lines that define Snow White's character.

People often tell the princess she is beautiful. She believes them, for she has never seen an ugly face.

Then, this chilling ending to the queen's story that perfectly weaves the original tale in with my telling of it.

In the confines of her world’s silver surface, she is fairest of all.

These lines, and this situation from "On the Other Side of the End of the World" always amuse me.

“They’re just the kind of thing he likes to read,” she says. Because they’re based on the kind of thing he writes!

I like this description of the secret garden in "Good Rich Earth".

Thousands of plants, tangled, matted and twisted together, but all alive, drawing food from the earth and reaching up, up, up toward the sun.

6. did you make any new writeblr friends? give a shout-out! if not, it's time to praise one of your old besties <3

I always love @isfjmel-phleg's comments, and I love the pieces she published this year.

11. which scene was harder/easier to write than anticipated? why?

Harder to Write: Certain scenes in "From the Other Side of the End of the World" were so hard to write that I essentially wrote a completely different story than I'd planned. It was supposed to be about this soldier crossing a war-torn landscape getting hope from a woman in a peaceful future (and then providing solace when she encountered grief), but it turned into a story about the power of books.

Easier to Write: I had the idea for a "Desdichado"-inspired King Thrushbeard retelling for a long time, but could never figure out how to use it. Once I came up with the concept of the beggar's door in "The Beggar’s Door" the story came together in a single evening--much faster than I ever assumed it could happen. .

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15

15. time for shameless self-promotion! answer with a piece of writing you want others to see/read!

I'm going to promote this piece of "Shadowstruck", one of the stories of my heart. I wanted to finish it this year and didn't get anywhere near that, but the concept means so much to me that I'd love for more people to know about it.

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10, 11, 13

10. which character(s) turned out differently from what you had planned? how so?

Royston in "From the Other Side of the End of the World" was supposed to be dismayed at his war-torn world and in need of the hope that Rachel's future perspective provides. He was also supposed to have more of a sense of humor, maybe some cynical wit. In practice, I couldn't fit in his road trip or his arc. The story became more about Rachel's grief, so he had to be the voice of reason and comfort.

11. which scene was harder/easier to write than anticipated? why?

Harder to Write: The ending of "A Garden of Wishes" was so hard to write that a flash fiction I should have finished last year became a long short story that I posted this year. Part of the problem was that the characters and story became much more detailed than anticipated, so part of me wanted to revamp it so it wasn't in second-person and became a more fleshed-out retelling.

I finally decided to just commit to second-person and finish it, but the scene with Sonatina telling her sisters tripped me up for a long while--I wasn't sure exactly how I wanted Sonatina, her sisters, and Michael to react to different parts of the situation.

I finally figured out a path, so "A Garden of Wishes" became one of the only stories that I abandoned for a significant time, yet still managed to finish.

Easier to Write: Once I had the concept of "Heartsong", I found it was surprisingly easy to weave it into a story.

13. how did you change as a writer? did you learn anything new? started to plan instead of pants? share your wisdom!

I became more willing to see fragments and short scenes as short stories in their own right, rather than thinking of them as the beginnings of longer stories. This was a great way to prevent my pile of WIPs from reaching overwhelming levels--I can just have an idea, do something with it, and satisfy the storytelling urge without spending a lot of time on it--but it did lead to a bunch of stories that feel more like fanfic of an unwritten series rather than full stories.

I also learned that I'm much more of a discovery writer than I ever realized. While I need to plan a basic shape to the story, I also need to keep things loose. I often have a lot of possible things that could be included in the story, and I won't know which ones work until after I start writing it down. Writing concrete story details and putting things in chronological order can help me understand what does and doesn't make sense, and can give me more ideas. Letting the brainstorming happen while writing is a good way to keep me from being upset that my beautiful layered idea doesn't translate into words-on-page.

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5

5. what is your favourite book/story/poem you read this year?

Since I talk about books a lot on my main blog, I'll talk about the other two options.

Favorite short story was either "The Manchester Marriage" by Elizabeth Gaskell for its vividly drawn characters and good romance (despite the sad parts of the ending) or "The Rector" by Margaret Oliphant, for its compassionate exploration of a middle-aged man discovering his vocation.

My favorite poem was "The Barrel-Organ" by Alfred Noyes, because of its lovely portrayal of the rich inner worlds in the most ordinary people and moments.

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6

6. did you make any new writeblr friends? give a shout-out! if not, it's time to praise one of your old besties <3

Well, you came back around this year, which has been a delight! I always love your comments and conversations and just having your personality in the tumblr atmosphere.

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1 and 2 for the writing year ask game

what was your writing-highlight this year? what made it special and how will you reflect on it next year?

"A Wise Pair of Fools" is one of the only things I wrote this year where the fun of writing it outweighs any problems I may have with the final result. I'm maybe a bit too fond of the narrative conceit, but it was just so fun to have the narrators talking to the reader and to each other. I'm allowed some self-indulgent writing techniques once in a while, and that one brings me so much joy.

Also, a highlight of this year was the joy of feedback. I wanted to make use of beta readers this year, and though I only did it a few times, the experience was great every time. People tended to understand what I was going for and helped to make the story better. Getting other people involved in the process was such a joy. I also very much appreciated the feedback I got on my finished works--even if I don't respond as often as I should (I never know when and how much I'm supposed to respond), I treasure every comment.

2. what did not go so well this year? how do you feel about it and what is a positive thing you learnt from it?

While I wrote and posted a lot more writing than I ever have before, that also means that I rushed a lot of spur-of-the-moment pieces out, and I'm less than pleased with a lot of it. There are some pieces I'm actively embarrassed by. More often, I'm okay with it, but I recognize that the writing is barebones, or there's a section that needs reworking.

I learned to be less precious about my writing, to embrace a sense of freedom and play and just write whatever--which is good. I think this year I'm going to have to learn to find a balance. Don't be afraid to write fast and barebones, but maybe sit on it for a while, do another draft or two before releasing.

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11?

11. which scene was harder/easier to write than anticipated? why?

Harder to write: Basically the entirety of "A Jules and Vern Christmas". It was supposed to be an easy flash fiction. A conversation between two characters about some time travel concepts that ends with them spending Christmas together in their own time. But figuring out where and how they have that conversation was a nightmare. I'd initially imagined it on a time travel cruise, but you can't just get off that and go home at will. But how would they run into each other otherwise? They're from different worlds. Initially, Jules showed up at Vern's workplace, then I tried having Vern seek her out with the gift. I tried having her come with the intention of offering the Christmas time travel cruise, but that required her to be uncharacteristically enthusiastic. Later, I tried having their conversation take place inside Juliette's hotel, but I couldn't envision their blocking within that setting. And then once I finished the story, I completely reworked their ending conversation. Every scene of that story was rewritten at least three times, which meant a lot of work resulted in only a very short story.

Easier to write: Most of "Good Rich Earth". Once I came up with the idea, the words just flowed, so I abandoned what I'd intended to write and wrote this instead. The scenes where Mary's searching for the garden took more work, but it was still one of the easiest writing experiences I've ever had.

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The Turning of the Year: A Cinderella Retelling

In a long-ago year, in a faraway land, there lived a girl named Alena. She lived in the house of a cruel stepmother, who hated her because she was so much prettier than her own daughter, and who made Alena do all the work of the house. Though the stepmother let her eat only scraps and wear only rags, Alena grew only more kind and beautiful as the year's went by, while her own daughter, Vanda, grew ever more coarse and cruel.

Now one December, it became known that the king of the land would host a grand ball in the city upon the eve of the New Year. Alena, like all other girls, wished to attend, and asked her stepmother if she could go. Her stepmother promised that she could, in order to convince Alena to work even harder in the weeks before.

But when New Year's Eve arrived, and Alena asked if she could dress for the ball, her stepmother cried, "A ball? When there is so much work to do? We must cast out the old year! You shall attend no ball before the house is cleaned. If there is even a speck of dust left in this house at midnight, you shall bring bad luck upon us all--and it shall be very bad luck for you.”

With that, her stepmother left the house, along with her own daughter, Vanda, to purchase trimmings for their dresses at the ball.

Scarcely had Alena begun to clean the kitchen when she heard footsteps near the back garden gate. When Alena peered outside, she found an old woman walking alone, her back so bent she could not stand without her staff, and her hair so white the snowflakes seemed dark upon it.

“Good mother!” Alena cried, rushing to the woman’s aid. “Come inside to warm yourself! It is no weather for traveling.”

The old woman took a seat by the fire with thanks, and gladly shared the crust of bread that was the only meal Alena’s stepmother had given her.

“You are good to an old woman,” the stranger said. “Yet that is no surprise, for you have been good the whole year through.”

“You do not know me,” Alena said in surprise.

“But I do,” the woman replied, “for I am the Old Year. You have shown me kindness near the end of my journey, so I will be glad to do what I can to help you in yours. What troubles you, child?”

Alena said with sorrow, “My stepmother will not let me attend the prince’s ball until I have cleaned every speck of dust from the house.”

“That is easily done,” the Old Year said, “for April shall reign in this house for the hour.”

With that, though the woman remained old and bent upon her stool, she also seemed somehow to be tall and straight, young and beautiful, with apple blossoms in her golden hair. In the garden outside, the snow clouds cleared away for springtime sun, and warm breezes blew through the house, gathering all the dirt and dust and soot and spreading it neatly in the gardens outside. While spring reigned, Alena gathered blossoming branches from the garden and placed them in jars around the house. Before the hour was over, the house shone. The old woman then lost her youthful aura, and winter returned to the gardens outside.

Alena thanked the Old Year from the bottom of her heart, but at that moment, her stepmother and stepsister returned. Alena, knowing that her stepmother would beat her for letting a ragged stranger into the house, hid the Old Year in the pantry just before her mother entered the kitchen.

“You lazy girl!” Stepmother shouted, when she saw Alena sitting on the stool near the fireplace. “Why are you sitting when the house must be cleaned?”

“It is clean, Stepmother,” Alena replied.

Her stepmother protested, but when she inspected the house, she found not a speck of dust.

She returned to the kitchen filled with rage, for she did not wish Alena to attend the ball and outshine her own daughter in the presence of the prince. When there, she saw the sacks of grain that Alena had moved out of the pantry to make room for the old woman.

“Aha!” her stepmother said. “You have forgotten the grain! We cannot enter the old year with bad grain. You must sift through every kernel so you can throw out the bad and keep the good. If this is not done before midnight, it will be a bad year for you.”

With that, her stepmother and Vanda returned to their rooms to prepare their dresses for the ball. Alena wept by the fireplace, and when she let the old year back into the kitchen, she told her the new task her stepmother had given her.

“That is no trouble,” the Old Year said. “Dry your eyes, child, for July shall reign in this house for the hour.”

Though the woman remained as old as ever, Alena thought she could also see her as a woman of middle age, with roses in hair just beginning to go gray. Through the windows flew every one of summer’s songbirds--warblers, robins, thrushes, vireos, orioles, flycatchers, tanagers, grosbeaks. At the Old Year’s commands, they opened the sacks, and threw the good grain into the barrels and the bad out the back door.

The gardens outside were lush and green, and Alena spent the hour in the sunshine, gathering strawberries, raspberries, and roses by the armful. The birds finished their work before the hour was over, and then flew out the doorway. The sunshine faded, the snow returned, and Alena thanked the Old Year with all her heart.

Just then, her stepmother emerged from her rooms, and Alena hid the Old Year in the pantry once more. Her stepmother and Vanda were fully dressed for the ball, but they had been so absorbed in their own looks that they had not seen even a moment of the summer that had filled the house.

"The grain is sorted, Stepmother," Alena said. "That means I can go to the ball."

With anger in her heart, her stepmother sorted through the grain, but she could not find one bad kernel to blame Alena for.

"You stupid girl!" she said at last. "Just because the grain is sorted, it doesn't mean your work is done. You have forgotten the mattresses! We cannot meet the new year in beds filled with last year's down! You must empty all the mattresses and stuff them all with fresh feathers before you can even think of attending the ball!"

She forced Alena to drag the mattresses to the kitchen, and then she and Vanda returned to their rooms to finish dressing their hair.

With that, Alena fell to weeping once again. The Old Year emerged and asked what troubled her.

"My stepmother demands I restuff the mattresses before I can attend the ball."

"That is no trouble," the Old Year said. "September shall reign in this house for the hour."

The next moment, though the woman remained old and bent, Alena also saw her as a woman not quite so old, with an elegant bearing and iron-gray hair that was woven with autumn leaves. The light outside became golden, while the plants in the garden grew brown and dry, and the trees bore apples among flaming leaves.

The sky grew dark as the air filled with the sound of beating wings, and in a moment, geese and ducks of every kind filled the gardens. The birds filed through the door, and at the Old Year's command, they pulled the old feathers from the mattresses and replaced them with a few feathers pulled from their own wings and tails and breasts. While the birds worked, Alena went to the gardens and gathered sweet apples from the groaning trees.

When the hour was over, the birds flew away, leaving behind mattresses plump with fresh new feathers. Alena thanked the Old Year with all her heart, then flew up the stairs to prepare for the ball.

Her stepmother met her in the hall outside her bedchamber, her hair dressed and ready for the ball.

"I have finished the work, Stepmother," Alena said, "so I will be able to go with you to the ball."

Her stepmother did not believe her, but when Alena brought the mattresses upstairs, she found them so plump and clean and fresh that she could find no fault to blame Alena for.

"You foolish child," her stepmother said at last, so angry she could barely speak. "You cannot possibly attend the ball, for you have nothing suitable to wear."

"I have one dress," Alena said. She flew into her dark, drafty little room and emerged with a gown that had once belonged to her mother. "This dress will fit me, and it is fit to be seen even by a king."

Her stepmother could see that in such a dress, even old as it was, Alena would still far outshine her own daughter in the prince's eyes. She tore the dress from Alena's hands, and with hands made strong by fury, she tore at the seams until the dress tore in two.

"This rag?" Her stepmother cried. "You cannot attend the ball in something so old. I would not have you come and give shame to us all. You must stay here and greet the new year alone."

With that, she and Vanda put on their cloaks, stepped in their carriage, and departed for the ball, leaving Alena weeping in the hallway.

While she wept, the Old Year came to her side and asked what troubled her.

"I am without hope," Alena said. "Though all the work is done, I cannot attend the ball, for I have nothing but rags to wear."

"Nonsense, child," the Old Year said. "You shall be the finest woman there, for you will be clothed in all the bounty of the year."

The Old Year helped Alena to her feet, and through tear-filled eyes, Alena saw the woman change, so she seemed old and young and middle-aged all at once. In the gardens outside, spring blossoms sprouted beside summer's roses, and autumn's leaves blazed over winter's snow. Sun and snow and wind and rain all seemed to fill the little hall where Alena stood. Her limp hair piled high atop her head and was crowned with the blossoms of spring. Her rags became a gown as soft as the petals of summer's roses, and bright with autumn's crimson and gold. A cloak of winter-white feathers stretched from her shoulders to the ground, and her feet were shod in shoes of winter's ice, which through some miracle neither froze her feet nor melted upon the floor.

"Old Mother!" Alena cried in gratitude, throwing her arms around the old woman. "I cannot thank you enough."

"You have earned it," the Old Year said, "but I warn you that I will fade away at midnight's chime, and when I go, my gifts will disappear. You must leave quickly, child, while time lasts."

With that, another wind, warm and icy all at once, wrapped itself around Alena and lifted her through the window. In moments, she found herself before the king's palace, which was all lit up for the festival.

At the ball, her beauty far outshone every woman there, and the dancers stopped dancing to whisper about this strange foreign princess who had arrived with no escort. The king, seeing her, was enchanted at once, and asked for her hand in the dance. For the rest of the night, Alena danced with no other, and found the king as kind and handsome as all the tales had claimed.

The hours flew by in what seemed like moments, until just as the king led her out toward a balcony, the palace clock began to chime the midnight hour.

"The new year has come!" the king declared, but Alena fled from him, out of the palace, down the stairs, and to the dark and snow-covered city streets. The Old Year's wind--what was left of it--found her and carried her through the midnight sky, but at the stroke of twelve, it faded away, dropping Alena into her house's back garden, clad once more in her rags. A single shoe of winter's ice clung to her left foot--though the Old Year's gifts had faded, winter still reigned, so only that season's gift remained.

The king, when she fled, ran after her, but he could find no trace of where his partner had gone, save one token, dropped in the place where the wind had picked her up--a single shoe made of winter's unmelting ice. The king declared that he would marry no woman save for the one who fit the miraculous shoe, and at the first light of dawn, he left the palace in search of her.

He had not gone far when he came across a girl child, barely old enough to walk, with hair as soft and golden as the sun's first rays.

"Where are you going?" the child asked him, in a voice too strong and clear for one so young. The king knew at once that he spoke to the newborn Year.

"I search for the woman I love," the king said, "though I have nothing to find her save the shoe she left behind."

"I know her well," the New Year said, "for she was a great friend of my mother's. You will find her in a house at the edge of the city, where spring's blossoms sit next to summer's roses and autumn's fresh apples."

With many thanks, the king swept the child onto his horse, wrapped her in his cloak, and sped off toward the far edge of the city. Before long, he came upon Alena's house, and knew it by the baskets of blossoms, roses and apples she had kept by the kitchen window.

When Alena's stepmother had come home from the ball, she had seen the signs of autumn, spring and summer in her kitchen, and knew that Alena had been the princess at the ball. She searched in Alena's room and found the partner to the shoe the prince held, then she seized Alena by the hair and locked her deep within the cellar. As she saw the prince approach, she fetched Vanda--her own ugly, cruel daughter--and perched her near the window with the blossoming roses, with the shoe of ice upon her foot.

The king rode to the house's entrance and presented himself by the main doors. Alena's stepmother greeted him with warm joy and welcomed him inside. While she took the king's cloak and tended to his boots, she did not see the small child toddle from the prince's side and make her way to the room where Vanda sat waiting.

Once there, the New Year reached her tiny hands toward the loaf of bread that Alena had baked only that morning. "Might I have something to eat?" she asked Vanda.

"Go away, little girl," Vanda said crossly. "Don't you know that the prince is here?"

The New Year asked for bread again, and once more, Vanda scolded her. At last, the child began to cry, and Vanda hit her on the ear and sent her tumbling to the floor.

Red-faced and crying, the New Year rose to her feet and told Vanya. "You are a cruel, selfish girl. Your heart is cold as ice, and so it is winter that will reign in this house today."

With her words, all the doors and windows of the room flew open, and a wind as cold as death blew in. Snow blew into the room and fell in drifts upon the floor. Before long, Vanda's lips and hands were blue, but her feet, encased in blocks of freezing ice, were black as coal.

Vanya's screams drew her mother to her side, and the king, alarmed, trailed in after her. He saw the girl with blackened feet, and though one foot wore the slipper of ice, he knew she was not the girl he sought. He feared that these cruel women had done her some great harm.

While Vanya's mother tended to her and sent for the doctor, the king saw the New Year standing in a drift of snow. He lifted her onto a stool, wrapped her in his cloak, and asked her, "Where is the woman I love? You promised she was here, yet I do not see her, and there are no other women in this house."

"You will find her in the one place where winter did not touch," the New Year said, "for her heart is too warm to be touched by ice."

The king waded through the kitchen's drifting snow and opened the door of the pantry. There, he saw all the house's food stores covered in snow and ice, but with not a flake covering the small door that led to the cellar. With a few blows, the door broke open, and the king pulled Alena out into the morning light.

"I have found you at last," the king cried in joy, and knelt before her with the slipper of ice. "You have my heart," the king replied, "and if you are willing, I would make you my bride."

With a smile, Alena said, "I will gladly be your wife."

With joy, the king took Alena to his home and introduced her to his court as his chosen bride. The people were charmed at once by her beauty and her kindness, and before the month was over, she was wed to the king and became queen over all the land. Her stepmother and stepsister, with Vanya maimed and their food frozen, became paupers, because they, in their pride, refused all of Alena's charity. Their cruelty gained them no friends, and before the winter's end, they were found, frozen to death, in winter's snow.

Alena, reigning as queen by her husband's side, became beloved by all the land. She and her husband remained pure of soul and warm of heart, and together they all lived happily for all the rest of their years.

[bookshelf-in-progress]

end of the year - writeblr ask game ✨

anyone else in the mood to become chatty? feel free to send a number (or two) from the list below to the person who reblogged this! and then reblog yourself if you want to get some asks ^^

what was your writing-highlight this year? what made it special and how will you reflect on it next year?

what did not go so well this year? how do you feel about it and what is a positive thing you learnt from it?

did you achieve everything you wanted to this year? if not, how will you go about it?

what is your favourite line you wrote this year?

what is your favourite book/story/poem you read this year?

did you make any new writeblr friends? give a shout-out! if not, it's time to praise one of your old besties <3

what are three songs you put on your WIP-playlist this year?

what are three things you're looking forward to next year?

create a meme or moodboard that captures your past writing-year!

which character(s) turned out differently from what you had planned? how so?

which scene was harder/easier to write than anticipated? why?

if your character(s) had their own new years resolutions, what would those be?

how did you change as a writer? did you learn anything new? started to plan instead of pants? share your wisdom!

time for writing wrapped! what would be your top three used sentences?

time for shameless self-promotion! answer with a piece of writing you want others to see/read! (if you have nothing posted/published this year, any other year is fine too ^^)

wishing you all all the best and may your writing-wishes for next year all come true <3 ✨

[bookshelf-in-progress]

A Jules and Vern Christmas

A time travel story for the Christmas Challenge at @inklings-challenge. This is a follow-up to "Jules and Vern"--a very short piece that explains how the time travel works, so you may want to read that one first.

*

Vernon looked up from his writing in a daze. The papers spread across his kitchen table, the books piled on shelves and chairs across his sparsely-furnished apartment, seemed suddenly unfamiliar. Outside, it was nearly dark, and a light snow shower was falling.

He'd lost track of time--gotten too deep into his writing. This draft of his article was due by the first of the year, and there was so much worth writing about now that he had practical experience--not just theoretical knowledge--of time travel.

He had his new patroness to thank for that. His one and only time travel cruise--paid for with his life savings--had brought him in contact with one of the wealthiest heiresses on the planet, who'd adopted him like a stray cat. She'd guided him through the cruise and even paid to extend his trip. A man in his position couldn't refuse gifts like that--but neither could he repay them.

He looked at the silver-wrapped package sitting on the edge of the table. It seemed silly, giving presents to a woman who could buy him a thousand times over without blinking an eye. He could mail the package next month. Send a nice little note keeping things purely professional.

But it was Christmas. After roaming through history with Juliette, he'd come to consider her a sort of friend. This deserved a personal touch.

He put away his manuscript, seized the package, and left on his errand before he could talk himself out of it.

*

The high-rise hotel, sleek and silver, towered over the squat brown-brick historic buildings of the rest of the street. Bedecked in golden lights, the building looked like a Christmas candle, like a queen among peasants.

Vernon felt like a peasant as he stood in the golden light coming through the glass of the revolving door. A doorman in crisp livery—blue with gold trimmings, a finer suit than anything Vernon had ever worn—took one look at the threadbare elbows of Vernon’s jacket and the holes in his woolen gloves and growled, “Move it along.”

The doorman’s square head reminded Vernon of some of the meaner-looking idols he’d seen on ancient temples. This face would have been a guardian of the underworld, ready to smite the unworthy with the wrath of the gods.

No, he scolded himself. It was the face of a doorman. Of a hotel. Vernon hadn’t walked through ancient battlefields to turn tail because a hotel employee scowled at him.

Vernon held up his package—a silver rectangle. “I’ve a delivery for Miss Juliette—“

The doorman's voice was like something that would have come from one of those stone idols. “She doesn’t take unmarked deliveries.”

Vernon felt like he’d run face-first into a wall. He stepped back and tried to gather his wits. Snowflakes fell down his collar. "If you'll just--"

From behind, a languid female voice drawled, "Vern? Is that you?"

Juliette stood behind him, wrapped in black fur. Her black hat—bedecked with white feathers and an enormous red flower—was wide enough to cover both of them, and her heels were so high that Vernon wondered how she’d managed more than two steps on the icy streets.

Juliette took Vernon's arm and told the doorman, "Relax, Pete, he's with me."

The doorman gave a skeptical stare.

Juliette's laugh sparkled. “Oh, very well.” She tugged Vernon by the arm. “We’ll roam the streets.”

Juliette took Vernon down the sidewalk, past the stores of this wealthy shopping district. These shops were nothing compared to the astonishing height of the modern hotel, but their wares were so rich Vernon half-feared he'd be charged a fee just for looking.

Juliette strode through the snowy streets with perfect confidence, never looking at a shop, never stumbling in her heels. “What brings you here, my darling little scholar?”

Compared to the wares being sold just outside her door, Vernon's offering seemed pathetic, but there was no help for it now.

He held out the package. "I brought a gift.”

Juliette stopped and tipped back her hat so she could look him in the face. “Gift?”

Could he call this a gift when her world meant so much more by the name? Jewels, cars, vacations—those were gifts. This was—

“A...small token,” he amended. “In honor of the holiday."

"Holiday?" Juliette seemed truly perplexed. At last, she laughed, low and languid. "Oh, Christmas. How quaint!"

Her laugh made Vernon bristle. Not for the first time, he wondered if she'd ever had a heart.

"I ought to have known you celebrated," she said. “It's so earnest and wholesome--like you."

“You don’t celebrate?”

“I haven’t paid attention in years.”

“Why?”

“When you’ve experienced every single Christmas in history, it gets rather dull.”

“Every—”

“Christmas cruises. Some time travelers try to hit every Christmas Day in history. They get so insufferable about it.”

Not for the first time, Vernon’s mind swam at the unimaginable wealth this implied.

Juliette said, “I decided against the full set. It’s just not worth it. The first one’s off-limits, of course, and then there's nothing really interesting until the Arians show up. But even in the most exciting years, it's all variations of the same thing, isn't it? Food and fires and presents and songs and various states of inebriation. There's only so much of that kind of thing one can take."

Vernon's chest burned--a bit of shame, a lot more anger. He tucked the silver-wrapped package beneath his arm. "I'm sorry I wasted your time," he said, turning away.

Juliette grabbed his arm. "Wait!” The languid tone had been replaced by genuine alarm. “Don't listen to my nonsense. It was kind of you to think of me."

Her eyes, amber in the streetlight, held some deep spark that Vernon had never seen before. A hint of genuine feeling. She was truly afraid of being alone. Vernon felt a pang of pity.

He handed her the gift.

She tore off the wrapping and uncovered a hardback book. The crimson cover glowed like an ember against the black of her furs.

"The first copy of my latest work," Vernon said. It didn’t sound so pathetic when he put it that way. "A treatise upon the interactions of parallel time streams, supplemented by observations from our travels."

She turned the book in her gloved hands, looking at it from all angles. “It looks disgustingly academic.”

"Exceedingly so."

She grinned. “I’m delighted, and I’ll never read it.

Vernon relaxed into a smile. "I didn't think you would. But I thought you deserved a copy all the same."

She put the book into a massive handbag. "I feel I ought to have a gift for you."

Vernon laughed. "A time cruise is a gift I could never repay.”

"Would you like another one?" Juliette asked.

Vernon stepped back, his hands held before him. "I couldn't accept such--"

"Just a short one. A cheap Christmas trip. Horribly touristy. Everyone and their mother heads to the Victorian era for a proper Dickens Christmas. The place is crawling with time travelers."

Vernon thought about the book in Juliette's bag, and his mind lit up with a new theory. "That would explain the ghost stories--"

She pointed at him, her eyes bright. "See? That's the mind that could make even that kind of Christmas interesting again."

It was flattering, and tempting, and yet--

"I think you're missing the point," Vernon said.

“Am I?” Juliette drawled, one eyebrow raised.

“Yes,” Vernon said firmly. “You don't need to run off and watch a Christmas that's already happened. You need to experience this one."

She waved a dismissive hand. "I've seen a thousand like it."

Vernon wondered how literal that was. How many Christmases had she traveled to--?

He pulled his mind back to the point. "I'm not sure you've seen any Christmas. You've seen parties, feasting, carols, but you haven't seen Christmas. The reason for the celebration. I'm not sure you can see it."

“I know," she said. "That’s why I need you.”

Snow fell onto her expensive furs, white against the black. A cold breeze ruffled the flower on her hat. She was a fashion plate, the model of luxury--and she looked so alone. All the money in the world, able to buy anything she wanted, go to any place or time she desired on a moment's notice--and she had no one to spend Christmas with.

He took her hand in his, tattered wool against sleek leather. "Then I'll come with you. But not to Victorian Christmas. To this one."

She raised an eyebrow “The time travel expert is turning down a chance to time travel?”

“Gladly."

"You'll never get anywhere in your career if you keep turning down opportunities like this."

"I'll take the risk."

She looked at their joined hands, then shifted her grip to turn it into a handshake. “You have a deal.”

Snow fell faster, thick white flakes. The shops along the street began turning off the lights in their windows. In the distance, church bells sounded.

Vernon inclined his head toward it. “We can start there.”

As the snow fell and the bells rang, Vernon tightened his grip on Juliette’s hand and pulled her down the street. In the lamplight, her eyes held a spark of something that looked a little bit like joy.

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Jules and Vern

"The worst thing about time travel is that it's so dreadfully dull." Juliette leaned back against the railing and fanned herself beneath her enormous broad-brimmed hat.

Vernon felt even shabbier and out-of-place standing here by the most expensively-dressed woman amid the expensively-dressed crowd on the deck of the time cruiser, but a statement like that made him forget his self-consciousness. "How can you say that? All of history within your reach!"

This cruise was the trip of a lifetime for him, the result of years of penny-pinching; now that he'd been among this crowd--to whom a time-travel fare was pocket change--he could see how they'd view it as commonplace, but never boring.

Juliette gestured expansively toward the fogs of history that surrounded the ship. "You meet no one but other time travelers, who talk about nothing except the time they glimpsed Alexander the Great from across a battlefield, or passed beneath Beethoven's window while he was banging on a piano, or the time they swear that they actually held a conversation with a medieval peasant, the physical limitations of time travel be hanged."

Vernon leaned forward eagerly, wishing he'd thought to bring a notebook. "Has that actually happened? Speaking to natives? The implications to our understanding of time travel--"

"Of course it hasn't happened, you darling little fool. You're going to be an easy mark if you know so little about time travel."

Vernon reddened. He knew quite a lot about time travel, actually, but this wasn't the time to start listing his papers and awards. Every child knew the first rule of time travel--the streams may run parallel but never cross--but every scientist knew the key to discovery was an open mind. "You can't discount stories just because they go against current scientific understanding. You never know when one could be true."

"None of it's true--that's the entire point. We spend ghastly amounts of money to get on these ships, and then spend the entire time making up lies to prove it was worth it. We wander about historical scenes without having the slightest impact on them. Walk through crowds of people who can't perceive us. We are well-dressed ghosts walking among ruins, never truly living."

It was rather sad when she put it that way, and Vernon felt the strangest urge to comfort a woman who probably spent more in a day than he could earn in the average year.

"I plan to live," Vernon said, even though it sounded horribly too-earnest. "I've got one trip and I plan to make the most of it."

Juliette peered at him above her oversized sunglasses. "You know, I believe you," she said. "And I think that's an excellent reason to make sure I keep you nearby."

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Looks like the "Fable" sequel has come out ahead, which is good news because I got new inspiration for that story today. Not the story I was talking about, no, but a sequel set at a different period and with a different POV that still manages to maintain the Christmas atmosphere, so I'm excited by the possibilities.

I'm not feeling super hyped about any of my Christmas story possibilities, and I'm running out of time, so I may just need to settle for a Christmas story in one of my established worlds. So I'll make it a poll

Trust me, they're both Christmassy.

Mia would be in a time just after Danny went home, so now she's queen and is feeling very alone, and Ben has to provide some much-needed timey-wimey support from the rest of the family.

David's got a bit of a King Wenceslas vibe going--he's been troubled by dreams, goes out in the snow, finds someone who needs help. Considering making it from the POV of a page who idolizes this legendary king who has crossed worlds, but could also stay in David's POV to see the ordinary guy who's dealing with being a legendary king.

I'm thinking it's a win-win--either the poll gets me excited for one, or it makes me terrified to mess it up so I procrastinate with the other.

[bookshelf-in-progress]

I'm not feeling super hyped about any of my Christmas story possibilities, and I'm running out of time, so I may just need to settle for a Christmas story in one of my established worlds. So I'll make it a poll

Trust me, they're both Christmassy.

Mia would be in a time just after Danny went home, so now she's queen and is feeling very alone, and Ben has to provide some much-needed timey-wimey support from the rest of the family.

David's got a bit of a King Wenceslas vibe going--he's been troubled by dreams, goes out in the snow, finds someone who needs help. Considering making it from the POV of a page who idolizes this legendary king who has crossed worlds, but could also stay in David's POV to see the ordinary guy who's dealing with being a legendary king.

I'm thinking it's a win-win--either the poll gets me excited for one, or it makes me terrified to mess it up so I procrastinate with the other.

[bookshelf-in-progress]

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