life.
I wish I didnât have to do this, that the rules and everything else governing this stupid world would just disappear, and Iâd never have to listen to my parents ever again.
The ache in my hand shifted from a prickle to a burn. I pulled it out of my pocket to take a closer look. It was glowing. Well, my hand wasnât glowing, but the star was. I opened my palm, and rays of light shot out from the gift. Dots seared my vision.
I was light blind. Unfortunately, I could still hear, but the noise made me wish I was deaf as well.
Glass cracking. Someone screamed. And roaring?
What in Grimmâs name was going on?
âRule #23: If you keep a storybook villain talking long enough, they will never fail to spill all the details of their evil plan. Some might even draw you a diagram.â
âDefinitive Fairy-Tale Survival Guide, Volume 2: Villains
5
A Nightmare Is a Wish Your Heart Makes
When my vision cleared, I had no idea where I was. Surely it could not be the same party. It looked like a war zone. The floating chandelier had crashed and shattered on the dance floor, freeing the now-dark floating orbs. People ran madly for the exit. Some were being chased by pickax-wielding dwarves, to say nothing of the ogres. The floor was littered with frogs. Hopefully they werenât enchanted princes, because some of them were getting squished by the mob.
I looked around for familiar faces. The beautiful people I had known since birth had changed or twisted into things nearly unrecognizable. Rapunzel remained by the treat tables, her hair now lying completely in the éclairs, with not a strand atop her bald head. By the punch bowl was a giant pumpkinâwearing glass slippers. A ferocious growl drew my gaze to the back of the room, where a hairy beast wore a yellow ball gown. I tried to block out the memory of Beauty in that dress earlier this evening.
Shutting my eyes, I shoved the star back into my pocket and willed everything to go away. This had to be a nightmare. Any minute now, I was going to wake up in bed, under my golden-goose down comforter. There would be no party, no beasts, and no engagement.
I needed to wake up. Then I needed therapy.
What was it that youâre supposed to doâpinch yourself? Somebody did it for me. My eyes snapped open from the needle-sharp pricks to my toes. âOw! Thatâ¦â
A little ball of fur chewed on my slippers, not caring that my feet were still inside. Iâd never seen another creature like it. It had the auburn-colored body of a lion cub, but it also had nubby horns, wings, and a dragonâs tail. Its little black talons scratched at my leg; then it stared at me with accusatory ice-water blue eyes.
âNo pixing way! Prince Kato?â
The look of disdain the little fuzz bucket gave me was all the proof I needed.
This was all too crazy to be real, but the pain debunked the whole nightmare idea. But maybe there was an upside to this. There was no way I could marry Prince Kato now. I just had to show my parentsâ¦
Where were my parents?
They were gone. The only signs theyâd ever been there were their two emerald crowns still spinning on the ground.
Nothing else mattered. Iâm not sure how long I stood there frozenâseconds, minutes, hours. I was semi-aware of Kato tugging my gown and growling. Too bad, runt. My attention stayed focused on the spot where Iâd last seen my parents.
Until the clapping.
My head reared in surprise. The sound sliced through the chaos, clear and crisp and completely out of place. Making her way up to the dais was the little girl from the garden. The opal necklace flashed with brilliant orange and red streaks against her pale skin.
She ceased her clapping long enough to scoop up my motherâs fallen crown and place it on her head. But it was much too large and fell down over her eyes and ears.
My back stiffened automatically in response. Nobody touched my parentsâ stuff.
Bertrand R. Brinley, Charles Geer