WEEKLY WRITING PROMPT, PART 2: Man After Midnight, suspense turned fairy tale


03-17-15

So, I’m at it — again. I’ve accepted the second challenge: to turn one of my WIPs into a fairy tale. After brainstorming a few ideas and half a jillion rough drafts, here is what I came up with.

From my mystery/suspense WIP, MAN AFTER MIDNIGHT

Fairy-Tale PROMPT

Once Upon A Mirror

A long, long time ago, in a warehouse/high-rent loft in Greenwich Village lived a hippy chick named Destiny. Unbeknownst to her, a sly, shape-shifting predator, Luce DeVille lurked in the haunted but enchanted Facebook Forest. Now, DeVille had a  magical mirror that allowed him to see what others in the village were up to. No one escaped his glowing, red eyes. From the least to the greatest, Luce DeVille knew everyone – and I do mean everyone — in Village of Greenwich.

One day, on Destiny’s sixteenth birthday, Good Witch Melissa appeared in a puff of pink glitter.

Destiny was holding a pity-party, when the Witch pulled  a baton out of her pink-and-purple hair.

“Your wish is my command, my dear. Ask away.”

“Oooh, can I have a car?”

Witch Melissa curled her lip. “No way.”

“A puppy?”

The witch rolled her violet eyes.  “Pfft” she snorted. “Get real.

Destiny’s brow furrowed before her face lit up. “Oh, I know! Can I live forever and ever?”

Witch Melissa shifted her weight to her other foot, the one without the sore toe.

Kiddo, you don’t know what you’re asking for, but what the heck. Knock yourself out!

“Ooookay! But don’t say I didn’t warn you?”

And, just like that, bibbety-bobbity-POOF! Her wish was granted.

From that moment on out,  Destiny, as her name implies, got to live forever. Yeah, you heard me right — forever.  Live. Live. Repeat.

Oh, but let me tell you a little  secret. The Good Witch Melissa happened to be Destiny’s mother. So, naturally, she promised her daughter she could live forever. Mothers always say stuff like that.

Anyway, here was Destiny, smack-dab in the middle of Life-Number-Five and counting. This forever-and-ever stuff, she found out, was a real hoot. In fact, she got to be a little of everything: a duchess, a bar maid, a midwife (which got messy), and a magician. The magic stint was cool because she got to change into a swan, once, just to see what it was like to glide around in a pond without drowning. (Oh, didn’t I tell you Destiny couldn’t swim?)

One day, as she lay on her canopied bed, she realized that never, in all of her lives, had she ever been some handsome prince’s passion.

Now’s my chance, she thought, popping a zit on her nose as she gazed into the mirror.

“Mirror, mirror,” she implored. “Please send me a hot, hunky prince.”

Well, here, I need to let you in on a teensy detail; Destiny was blonde. As blonde as a blonde can get. And that’s pretty blonde. She begged until the royal cows came home but the mirror just stood there, looking like — duh — a mirror.

(Did you, kind reader, reaaally expect it to be anything else? I mean, seriously?)

One day, she pestered that mirror to send her a man until – zap! –it suffered a brain-fart and shattered. She collapsed, weeping and wailing over her grave misfortune when, suddenly, she heard singing.

Singing and galloping.

Up from the distance rode Sir Erik-the-Schmuck in his coat of mail. As he alit from his steed, he took her left hand in his, kissed it, and knelt before her. Recoiling, she jerked her hand away.

“Oh, it’s you!”

He nodded and bowed.

“Yes, my beloved. ‘Tis I.”

 Well, that blows it, she thought, growing more fretful by the minute.

“But I want a preeeeunce,” Destiny whined like a two-year-old, stamping her foot. “Not a skirt-chasing ex-husband!”

Erik looked crestfallen. Disconsolate. Despondent (and all those other SAT words).

“But, my darling, I love you. I came to ask for your hand in marriage – again.”

Destiny shoved him as hard as she could. Erik reeled backwards, landing within stomping distance of old Guinevere’s hooves.

“Buzz off, freak!” she yelled. (Yeah, this language is tame, but, hey, isn’t this a fairy tale? You know — rated “G”?)

Anyway, little could Destiny have known that Old Luce, CEO of Facebook Forest, also owned the mirrors of everyone in the village.Much to her dismay, the mirror through which she marveled over her beauty didn’t belong to her, after all.

Bloated and bummed amid shards of her precious mirror, Destiny curled up in the fetal position and lived miserably ever after.

And there you have it. Want something happier? Read Mother Goose.

 

*********

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