Telling Tales



Telling Tales

‘Scraps of cloud hung in the windows of the ballroom; webs of trapped butterflies covered the chandeliers. In place of a gown the fairy princess wore a rosebush in bud and as she turned in the bridal waltz, roses bloomed and droplets of blood spattered her satin slippers.’

The one about the two slit boys was scarier.’

‘Shh – footsteps.’

‘Nah – doesn’t fit the story. Try another one. How about..’

‘No, really. Listen!’

‘Shit – cut the light.’

I put my lips next to his ear. ‘The rotten stairs – ninth and tenth.’

We huddled together in the darkness and counted one, two…

M J Lewis©2016

And that’s your 100 words for this week.

Many thanks to Rochelle our host at Friday Fiction and to J Hardy Carroll for the atmospheric photo. For more stories click here, if you dare.

Was a bit unfocused this week so confess to reading around a bit. Those two boys from Derelict by C E Ayr definitely stuck in my head and seem to have crept into one of the stories within this story.

The Blacksmith’s Wife


The Blacksmith’s Wife

The blacksmith’s wife was once a raven-haired beauty. They say the Faerie King himself lured her from her marriage bed, where her husband snored contentedly, and flew with her up the chimney to the Palace of Stolen Dreams. And there, on a mattress stuffed with lilacs, beneath a chandelier tinkling with babies’ teeth, he treated her to a long night of brittle passion.

So now, her beauty faded, she dozes fitfully in the crook of her husband’s arm, one hand on the cradle of her blue-eyed daughter, and she listens for the soft tread of the debt collector.

M J Lewis ©2015

Very much missing my Sunday night fix of the BBC’s adaptation of Susanna Clarke’s Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell. Highly entertaining, but also served to remind us – and we do need reminding – that fairies never ever, despite their misleading name, play fair. Put a saucer of milk on the back step at night, then stay well away.