Lucid Waking

            She sighed in anger and hastily tied her dress in a knot around her thighs. She never wanted to wear this dress and was thankful that it was slit to her hip so that she could tie it up comfortably above her ankles in a knot that would stay. When she knew the matron wasn’t looking, she slipped off her painfully high high-heeled shoes in the corner before rushing off to light more candles throughout the house.
            It was three hours before All Hallow’s Eve, and Teagan and the rest of the maids were all busily running around the castle fulfilling last minute preparations before the guests arrived. The head of the maids, Lady Watson, stood at the base of the stairs with her hands folded across her ample bosom and occasionally yelling out orders to the poor skinny maids around her. Several girls tripped over the terribly revealing skirts and rolled their ankles on the high shoes, but Lady Watson didn’t miss a beat in perfecting the scene. By nine thirty, preparations were finished and Lady Watson shoved the maids into a line down the left wall of the hall. Teagan ran to the corner where she left her shoes and struggled to slip them on as she ran for her post at the door of the library. In one final nervous gesture, she brushed off the knot she had tied her skirt into and stood perfectly straight, careful to stare cautiously down her perfectly straight nose bridge.
            As the lord and lady of the Devlin Manor came down the main hall stairs, Lady Watson bustled down the line, perfecting posture and fixing hair and makeup that had been carelessly ruined in the haste. Teagan stood breathlessly as Lady Watson whisked her pudgy fingers with surprising grace over the corner of her eye to correct a small smudge of eyeliner. Then the matron was off to the next girl to correct her posture.
            “That’s quite enough, Lady Watson,” Lord Devlin said politely, but firmly. Lady Watson stopped in her bustle and stood staring at him as if he had just walked over to her and smacked her across the face. She wrung her hands, but kept perfect posture as he lent his arm to his wife and continued down the hall past the statues of breathing women to the dining room.
            “Hmph,” Lady Watson snorted, storming over to the door at the side of the stairs leading to the basement where the maids’ slept. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be down in the rooms helping to wrap Celia’s ankle. Everything should go according to plan if you all just stand like we rehearsed.”
            She closed the door with a loud bang. Her hurried footsteps were heard in the silence that followed before the clock took over the rhythm filling the space. A tall redhead girl turned to face Teagan, her blue eyes flashing with excitement.
            “My, doesn’t Lady Watson hate Lord Devlin?” she suppressed a giggle and faced the hall again. “I don’t suppose you know the story?”
            Teagan sighed. “You might as well tell it, Talia. What sort of Hallow’s Eve would this be if you didn’t tell the story again?”
            There were mutterings along the line of girls, some with excited murmurs, some girls voicing displeasure.
            “How about the abbreviated version? Lady Watson used to be the prettiest lady in all of the courts, but one day she—” The girl’s story was cut off by the hollow ring of the doorbell and the clicking heels of the butler. All the girls spontaneously stood straighter and all their heads snapped to straightforward attention. The guests filled into the dining room, a few stopping to try and evoke a response from the maids when no one else was looking. When the room was quiet, the girls relaxed again as they had learned to do and tried to listen to the conversation within the dining room. The cook came out of the kitchen and signaled Teagan and Talia forward to the help serve. Teagan grabbed a large plate of a mashed vegetable and walked forward into the room.
            “I don’t see why this is such a large political advancement. The boy was clearly not meant to rule or The Forces would have kept him alive. We shouldn’t be tampering with Their plans like this,” a portly gentleman hit the edge of the table with his open hand causing several wine glasses to shake. His thinner wife put a hand out to steady him, but remained silent. Her red eyes glanced at Teagan as she moved around the table scooping out generous amounts of food, but Teagan kept her eyes downward on her work.
            “If I might be so bold,” Lady Devlin said firmly, “but the fact of the matter can not be denied that he was murdered for being involved in the Breckenridge fortune and not, in fact, for purely political purposes.”
            “We all can say that he was involved as far as the money is concerned, but I don’t think taking such drastic measures to bring him back are necessary. I’m simply saying that if he’s dead someone meant him dead and we cannot afford to delve into the problems of the past again.”
            “He is not your son,” an average-looking woman said looking down at her plate as Talia filled it with bread stuffing. Her hands moved gracefully to smooth out the wrinkles in the napkin on her lap. “You could not possibly understand the pain.”
            “We understand what you must be going through,” said the portly man’s wife cautiously, “but it’s unclear what part he had to play in the entire affair and to bring him back would be blasphemous to the Gods. It might do more harm to bring him back than to keep him dead.”
            The graceful woman looked up in protest, her jade-like eyes flashing, but Lord Devlin raised his hand and the two women kept silent. “I believe at this point, discussing the moralities of such an operation is out of any one’s hands. If it is any consolation, Sir Albertson, we have considered the Forces in our decision and they have answered affirmatively.”
            “Hmph, I shall believe it when I see it, heathen,” the portly gentleman said under his breath. His wife shushed him, angrily, but Lord Devlin made no motion of hearing the comment.
            “The rest of the guests here have agreed to take part best they can in the operation based mostly on the fact that The Forces have accepted this turn of fate and require that he is restored to life. I hope this is acceptable to you, Sir Albertson.”
            The portly gentleman stood up and made a motion to bang the table again, when his eyes rested on Teagan, hurrying to the kitchen to get another dish. She turned around just as he sat down, keeping his rat-like red eyes fixed on her. She blushed and kept the bowl of soup close to her, although it started to burn her skin through the thin dress.
            “Many complements on the meal,” one of the guests commented after Lord Devlin had signaled to start eating. The speaker was strangely androgynous with a voice to low to be female and too high to male. When Teagan accidentally bumped into the figure, it’s dark gray skin felt rubbery to the touch. As trained, she moved away as quickly, but as nonchalantly as she could.
            Teagan was honored with carrying the roasted and stuffed pig to the dinner table. She tried not to look into its black eyes cloudy with death, but she couldn’t help but wonder how anyone would want to eat this delicacy with the head still attached. In her thoughts, she glanced at the perfectly round pig glistening with fat and suppressed a gag. As she placed it in front of Lord Devlin, she noticed the room get suddenly quiet and cold.
            “I don’t suppose you know who is going to perform the ceremony?” the androgynous guest asked after a discrete sip of wine.
            “Let us not ruin our dinner with talk of more politics,” Lady Devlin said sitting back as her husband started cutting up the pig. Teagan looked down in disgust and walked away quickly towards the kitchen. “But yes, we do know who will be going down to the cemetery to do the…honors.”

Filed under: Fantasy, Hero Cycle by Bri
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            My sister and I were never very close. In fact, we only talked to each other when our tutors demanded it. I’d hear her voice from conversation with other people, but mostly I was content to talk to the little folk who lived in the forest. My sister, Gwendolyn, looked like our father with golden hair and sky blue eyes where as I, Melanie, looked like our mother with raven black hair and jade green eyes. No one ever believed we were sisters simply because we were completely different in not just looks, but personalities. People would whisper that I had my head in the clouds and that Gwen would be much more personable with ruling the country. She had more charisma than I, anyway. She was also very demeaning to the servants and myself, even though I am a full year and a half older than her (she was born in winter, I was born in summer).
            One day, my mother insisted that Gwen follow me into the forest. Besides, she had said, it would be good for Gwen to learn about the fae folk, too. Mother always seemed to treat the years between Gwen and I much larger than they really were. Gwen was at my level when it came to learning (I give it credit to her smarts, not my stupidity) and it was not like anyone else who visited our kingdom knew the difference between our ages. Most people took her as older, which I suppose contributed to her bitterness towards me.
            By this point, we had reached as small pond. I’ve always liked this spot best with the dragonflies and damselflies creating ripples on the water. It was large enough to create a clearing of the trees so that the sun glistened on the water and made it look like shimmering crystal. Gwen had enough sense not to talk, but she remained standing to keep her dress clean, when I sat down. We didn’t talk to one another or the forest for the longest time until out of the water came a rather large green frog. I for one, was glad it was not that toad that had visited me previously (sorry, that’s another story that is quite boring and pointless that I shant tell. Suffice it to say that the toad and I were not very good friends). My sister nearly screamed as it came hopping towards her; I admit it was a very strange frog, but I just can’t put my finger on why.
            “Please, ma’am. Will you give me a kiss?” (This was from the frog. I’m sure he spoke in much prettier language, but I can’t remember now. He was very polite). “A malevolent sprite from this woods cast a spell on me when I went gazing at the water. She said that the only way to get back to being human was to get a kiss from the princess living at the edge of the woods. I assume this is you?”
            My sister seemed too shocked to speak, but she nodded.
            “I’m from Woodshire at the other edge of the forest. I’m the youngest son of the king who lives there.”
            “Hmm,” my sister said (or she said nothing at all, but stood thinking). “I’ve heard of Woodshire. Your family has visited on diplomatic matters.” Gwen stood their thinking for a bit, but she didn’t believe him at all.
            I believed him wholeheartedly, but I was too ashamed to kiss him in front of my sister. All of her scolding and harsh words made me even more timid than I naturally was (also a reason why “my head was in the clouds”). But since I could picture in my minds eye what this prince looked like, I decided to help him. While my sister was busy listening to the goings on at these diplomatic meetings, I did not. I watched who came to visit my father quite well and knew the face of every noble within miles (if they have visited, of course). Oh, I’m blushing when I write this, but if it was indeed the youngest prince (who although he was the youngest, was a year older than me), he was quite handsome and if I help him, he may convince my father to let me marry him.
            Not being able to stand my sister’s “Hmm” anymore, I told her quite frankly to go get some sandwiches for our guest, the prince, when he arrives. I think my words puzzled her enough (she did not believe he was the prince) that she didn’t question me and just walked off. When I was sure she was gone, I just kissed him. I remember there being a great flash of light that blinded me before everything going black. Oh, it was so embarrassing because when I came round, I was in bed and my mother was wiping my forehead with a wet rag. I asked her about the prince and she said that when I was well, I could go and see him. I didn’t think much of her straightforward answer (it was the answer I wanted) until I was able to get out of bed to find that I was going to be married the next week.
            What had occurred was this: my sister came back to the woods to find that I had passed out and the prince of Woodshire was trying to get me to come round. (He had seen her disbelief, so he had told her he was out walking when he stumbled across me next to the pond. She didn’t question). The two of them took me back to the castle and my sister had me carried up to bed. He left and within three days our wedding was arranged. The specific details of everything that happened between our fathers, I was too happy to ask about.
            And so, the end of my childhood occurred just by kissing a frog. Foolish, yes, but quite possibly the wisest thing I have done. I’ve always trusted the little folk (even their tricks) and I could scarcely fathom if my sister alone, and not both of us together, had encountered this little frog. He would still be there in that pond waiting for a princess to wander to the pond’s edge. I would come, of course, like I always did and have always done after that. Not because of the frog or my husband, but because I love the way the sun plays on the ripples of the water. Besides, one never knows if one will find a citizen from the kingdom who needs a little help from a spell of the fae folk.

Filed under: Fairy Tales and Fables by Bri
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