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she ever shut up? I want to rip her tongue out. “We only eat things made from fresh fruits, veggies, grains, and eggs we gather ourselves.”
    Peasant diet is more like it. What happened to the “you will eat like royalty” promise? Another lie. I am going to sue!
      Elzmerelda frolics over to the others, leaving me alone. Brainstorm! While no one’s watching, I’ll run away and escape. The front gate can’t be too far off. Ha! By the time they notice I’m missing, I’ll be long gone.
      So long, losers. I’ve hardly taken five steps when the three Badass Fairies touchdown in front of me and grab me forcefully by my arms. I try to wrestle myself free but am no match for their astounding strength. They’re like a pack of winged behemoths.
     “Hello, I’m Fanta,” says the one in green.
     “I’m Flossie,” says the one in red.
     “And I’m Fairweather,” says the one in blue. “And you must be our new resident, Jane Yvel.” 
    My real name. I haven’t used it in years. At that dungeon, everyone called me The Evil Queen. Everyone!
     “Welcome to Faraway!” they say together.
    “Come join us for breakfast,” says Flossie as they haul me back to the berry patch. “We’ve baked some fresh muffins.”
    All I want to do is tear off a pair of their wings and blow out of here.
     
    ***
     
     “Don’t you love the Good Fairies?” asks Elzmerelda, biting into her muffin.
      Seriously, I want to poison them but have to admit the muffin’s delicious. Warm, buttery, melt-in-your-mouth delicious. I haven’t eaten anything this good in years. It’s even gotten me over my coffee fixation.  
     Elzmerelda babbles on. “They used to be Sleeping Beauty’s fairy godmothers. When they retired, they came here. Now, they’re certified life coaches.” 
    Life coaches? What kind of nonsense job is that?
     “They also teach cooking, sewing, and Arts and Crafts. Their classes are so much fun!”
     Hardly my idea of fun. Maybe, there's an advanced class on making evil potions.
     “And on Sunday’s, they hold a talent show.” 
     “Don’t trust them; they’re spies,” says another voice. It’s the scary skinny girl that resembles Elzmerelda. Picking crumbs off the top of her muffin, she saunters over to the bench where we’re sitting.
    “Jane, this is my sister, Sasperilla,” says Elzmerelda.
    Sasperilla gives me the once-over with her dark, beady eyes.
     “Why are you two here?” I ask.
     “Mother made us come,” says Sasperilla, her tone bitter. 
     “She thinks if we get more in touch with our inner princess, we’ll marry royalty,” chimes in Elzmerelda.
     “It’s all our stepsister’s fault.” Sasperilla rolls a crumb between her bony fingers. “If that cunning little bitch hadn’t snuck out of her room with the other glass slipper, Prince Charming would have been mine!”
    “Cinderella’s not a b…bad person,” says Elzmerelda.
     Sasperilla snorts. “Puh-lease. It takes one to know one. Right, Jane?” 
    So, she thinks I’m a bitch. Just wait. I’ll show her.
    Another woman strolls over to us. The obese one. She has delicate features and long, lustrous red hair that I would kill for. I'd almost call her pretty if she weren’t so damn fat and freckled.
    “Sasperilla, can I have your muffin?” she asks.
     “Be my guest.” The skinny bitch tosses her the barely touched muffin. “One woman’s dread is another woman’s bread.”
    Elzmerelda shakes her head in frustration. “Sassy, you’re never going to get of here if you don’t start eating like a normal person.”
     Sasperilla scoffs at her sister. “Everyone knows princes only marry skinny girls. If I wanted to marry a poor cobbler, I’d look like Winifred.” 
     The heavy woman forces a smile. “At least, my husband’s a good man and loves me.”
     “Yeah, right,” snickers Sasperilla. “He loves you so much he had you committed here.”
     Winifred’s hazel eyes flare. “Here, you can keep