Time: A Fairytale || Completed

Time: A Fairytale

A fairytale is supposed to start with cliche words about a land far, far away. However, this story began a bit differently. Prince Charming never made an appearance, and the damsel was more likely to cause distress than be in it. No knights in shining armor, either. Instead, it is the tale of a witch and a trickster, who managed to stop time.

We set our scene with our fair damsel, as she finished the careful work of collecting skullcaps before the chill of autumn took full effect. She planned to make tea, for she knew there would soon be a knock on the door.

Such a sound came once she had placed the first cup on the pinewood table. Too toc. She paused a moment, watching the leaves bob in the teacup. He's early, she thought with a clever grin. The witch smoothed her skirt and answered the door, quite unprepared for what she would find.

Her breath caught, heart skipping a beat or two. She told herself it was nothing more than the valerian root she'd slipped into his cup. However, she could not fight the rush of blood to her cheeks as she took him in.

His hair—a shade so dark it rivaled the night—curled wildly atop his head, shaved on the sides while the fringe hangs in amber eyes. He wasn't tall, or particularly built in the ways men like him were often thought to be, but that did nothing to take away from the command in his composure. Full lips twitched into the ghost of a smile as he gave a subtle wink.

He thought her an interesting sight as well; fiery hair, dark eyes, and lips perfect for whispering things best left for the bedroom. However, it was in his best interest not to let his gaze linger too long on her finer parts. He was a trickster; a wanted man. The only thing that would save him now was Time.

"Evening, miss. Awful night to be caught out, mind if I come in?" His eyes flicked behind her, to where a plate of tarts had already been laid out. "Seems I've been expected."

The night was crisp and clear, but she knew he was not safe under the stars on the brightest of nights. So, she moved aside to let him in, and tried not to shiver as his fingers brushed her arm. Quickly fetching the last cup of tea, she tucked in at the table where her trickster was helping himself to a cherry tart.

They sipped in silence, and polished of the whole plate of tarts. In her careful observation of the stranger, she had missed something so essential—a serpent slithered from his sleeve, down to the floor, and into her study without so much as a sound. Witch had not noticed that, because she had been so enamored with the cunningly cheerful guest at her table.

She had read the cards, the stars, anything she could think of before this fateful night, when evil would knock on her door and ask for a heart. She had been quite certain it was her heart that would be sacrificed, but seeing this man now, she was not so certain.

When there was nothing but a leaves and a few drops left in both their cups, Trickster rose with an exaggerated yawn. He was tired—as he should be after such a brew—and wished to retire for the night. Trying to hide a suspicious smile, Witch led him to the bed she had made up just for him, two days ago. She resisted the strange urge to tuck him in as she watched his sleepy eyes drift closed the moment he hit the mattress.

While Witch and Trickster slept, the serpent made quick work of uncovering their host's secrets. Piles of tomes and journals cluttered her study while still burning candles dripped wax to the hardwood. Lucky for a snake to be so thin and nimble, else it might not have discovered the leaf of paper scrawled with a riddle tucked behind a dusty grimoire, or the endless supply of others shoved between the pages.

The serpent hatched a plan.

He woke his friend before the morning light peeked through the windows. Together they vowed by the next day's end, Time would be theirs. Trickster knew just which heart would do the trick.