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FAIRY TALE FAIRY STORY - FLASH FICTION COMPETITION - PAGE 2

This month's Flash Fiction theme was Fairy Tale / Fairy Story. Group members were invited to write an original fairy story / fairy tale of no more than 500 words. It could be a character taken from a well known fairy story / fairy tale; or an invented character or characters. 


The story itself had to be an original work and not a copy of a known fairy story / fairy tale. 

The competition attracted 26 entries.


THE RESULTS:


1st Place: Mike Lansdown - The Magpie and the King

2nd Place: Geoff Brown - A Modern Pied Piper

Joint 3rd Place: David Elliott -A Slow News Day; Helen Nicell - The Burn; Liz Shaw - Magical Mystery Tor.


Well done to all those who entered; and many congratulations to Mike, Geoff, David, Helen,and Liz. 

 

Entries 1 to 19 can be found on Page 1

PLEASE CLICK HERE FOR PAGE 1

Entries 20 - 26 are below


ENTRY 20

BRIANA AND THE KING by Kay Hall

The sad and lonely King huddled in the corner of the dungeon. Sixteen years ago, he’d lost his one true love and their unborn babe, and still he mourned.


That morning, a girl, Briana, and her friends had come to the palace, demanding he give up his kingdom, cease feasting and hunting; ordering him to use his wealth to help his people, not drive them into poverty. And his guards had flung him in here. His rule was over and he feared for his life.


Thedoor swung open and Briana stood before him.


Come,’ she said to the King, ‘let me take you somewhere more cheery, somewhere we can talk properly.’ 


‘I’m sorry I was so long,’ she added as they left the dungeon, ‘I lost my way.’


They reached the kitchens. ‘I thought it might be more cosy here,’ she said.


The cook looked up from her task and curtsied deep when she spotted them.


‘Now; sire, lady, what can I get you? A midnight feast? Or a hot chocolate? I know that often comforts you late at night, sire, when your thoughts turn to despair.’


‘A hot chocolate would be most welcome,’ smiled the King, ‘thank you.’ The cook curtsied again, blushing as she scurried away to prepare the drinks; it was the first time he had spoken kindly to her his whole life.


Briana and the King talked long through the night. She told him of his people’s plight, of their fight against the taxes imposed on them, and when those who collected them had nothing but their own wealth in their minds. He’d not realised, and began to feel ashamed.


As she told him of her mother’s death, she fondled the silver strand around her neck.


‘Where did you get that?’ the King asked. ‘My fairy godmother gave me one like that when I was born. I gave it to my one true love, before my parents sent her and our unborn babe away from the palace. I hoped it would bring them back to me…’


‘It was my mother’s. She told me my father, her true love, gave it to her before she had to leave…’


The King gasped, ‘Briana, you’re my daughter! I should have known; you’re so like her! I shouldn’t have let her go; I should have stood up to my parents. And now she’s gone…’


Tears started rolling down his face. But Briana embraced him, saying, ‘Father, don’t cry. She would be happy to know that we’ve found each other at last.’


‘But how can I make amends?’ the King asked.


They continued to talk, and he finally began to rejoice. He’d gained a wonderful daughter, and his true purpose in life. As the sun rose the next day they announced that henceforth, the kingdom would be ruled by the people, those who had the best interests of all in their hearts. And the King would be their ambassador, spreading their message to all the kingdoms of the world.


ENTRY 21

H&M by Ann Crago

Once upon a time there was a prince called Henry. He had an older brother so he knew he would never be king. This bothered Henry a lot. His mother always said she loved them both equally, his father told him to ‘keep a stiff upper lip’ and ‘just get on with it.’ Harry didn’t have the intellect to understand these mixed messages so decided he might as well just enjoy himself. This turned out to be easy to do. 


As a prince nobody ever dared to tell him off. He had dozens of friends and they all told him how wonderful he was. As he grew into a teenager he didn’t need to rebel, as he just carried on partying and smoking whatever he wanted. Money was no object and he could get any girl he wanted by inviting them back to his place. Faced with the choice of a bedsit in Wandsworth or the Throne Room at Windsor Palace, every girl chose the latter.


Prince Henry joined the army and was sent to war. This turned out to be less challenging than he thought, as he found he was constantly protected by the rest of the soldiers, just in case he was injured. His commanding officer, with an eye on promotion, simply couldn’t risk the life of the young prince.


One day, Henry met and fell instantly in love with, a young beautiful actress. She was smarter than Henry, did her homework on him, and decided to play hard to get. 


Henry pursued her relentlessly and Meg continuously played it cool. After several expensive overseas holidays, designer clothes and showering her with jewellery, Henry promised her that she could have everything she wanted as his wife, as queen and ruler over all she surveyed. Not having read or tried to understand the British Constitution, but assuming it was like the American Bill of Rights, Meg saw the opportunity for the biggest role of her life. She would always be surrounded by cameras and fawning staff and with no tiresome directors calling ‘cut!’


She could go anywhere and see anything she wanted. She could buy everything she wanted. Meg said yes.  


The wedding was a fairy tale of epic proportions with thousands lining the streets and cheering for the couple. It was a day of pageantry and excess, with millions of pounds spent on flowers and frocks, soldiers and security. 


As the couple stood on the steps of the chapel looking at the adoring crowds and the world’s press they felt on top of the world. Henry knew this was the happiest day of his life. Meg knew this was the biggest role of her life and she had never looked better.


And so they lived happily ever after…


ENTRY 22

THE UNHAPPY PRINCE by Andrea Neidle

There was once a prince who lived in the most beautiful palace. Everyone loved him.


But was he happy? No.


Nobody loves me, he said.


There was only one person whom he had ever truly loved, but she died.


And he cried bitter tears. Not just for her. But for himself. 


Where his tears had fallen flowers grew and soon the palace was surrounded by thousands of flowers, all with messages declaring love for the prince.


But was he happy? No.


Nobody loves me, he said mournfully.


The prince grew up and had many friends and colleagues who cared about him. Countless women fell in and out of love with him.


But was he happy? No. 


Then the prince fell deeply in love with a beautiful woman and for a while he was happy. But his new love told him that he was not happy and that his life was not worth living. So the two of them agreed to leave everything and everyone he knew to start a new life for themselves.


But was he happy? No.


Nobody loves me, was his mantra. He took every opportunity to tell people how he felt. Eventually he told his father, I don’t want to be a prince any more.


That’s fine with me, said his dad, but then you can no longer live in a palace. We will still call you prince but you can no longer expect to have all the good things that go with the title.


The prince moved to a new country far away where he had a beautiful house, servants, two beautiful children and everything his heart desired. But was he happy? No.


He started to take pills and other drugs hoping they would make him happy. 


The prince complained to anyone in the world who would listen that his father had been cruel, that his wicked stepmother hated him and that his family, whom he had chosen to leave, did not want him.


Everyone he met wanted to hear what he had to say about his old life compared to the new one. 


I was not happy, he said. No one listened to me, he said. Everyone wanted a piece of me, he said.


Advisors told him, you must tell the world how you feel, how you have been mistreated.


And so he did.


He gave interviews to the newspapers, appeared on TV and even blogged – with some help and encouragement from his beautiful wife – on his very own web site.


But still he was not happy.


So he wrote a book which everyone read.  It sold millions of copies all over the world and made the prince even richer than he had ever been before. But not any happier.


I would like to be able to tell you that this is a mere fairy tale. But, sadly, it is all true.


And it looks like the prince is going to live unhappily ever after.


ENTRY 23

WHILE I AM AWAY by Brian Bold

A young Prince, on a motoring holiday in Scotland, decided to drive alone through an ancient forest rich in legend. Unaccustomed to electric cars, he had failed to check it was fully charged. The car came to a halt in the deepest part of the forest. There was no signal on his mobile so he decided to climb a hill he’d passed earlier in the hope of getting a network there.


It took him about half an hour to reach the top of the hill but even from this elevation there was no network. He could see above the forest and scanned the landscape for any sign of habitation. There were some buildings but far away beyond the forest. He was about to return to his car when he saw a flash of light. 


Looking closely, he discovered the sun’s rays were being reflected from the window of a castle which had previously been hidden in the forest. Like any decent Prince, he realised that in a castle in an enchanted forest there must be a beautiful Princess needing rescue. The least he could do was investigate. Anyway, there might be a phone there to call for help. He found an overgrown path that that led to the castle.


The castle door was unlocked but there was no sign of activity. Legend suggested any Princess would be in the turret so the Prince went there directly and found her sleeping. He knew his duty so without hesitation he kissed her. The Princess woke immediately and she and the Prince fell in love at first sight. 


“My love,” she said, “I was told one day my Prince would come and now in the spring of 2024 you are here.” 


“2023,” the Prince corrected. 


“Oh, no,” she sobbed, “I love you so much but you've come a year too early. I can't give myself to you yet. You must leave and come back next year.” 


They parted in tears. The Prince returned to his car and was rescued by several of his servants who had come looking for him.


The following spring the Prince travelled back to his destiny. His love for the Princess had grown during their separation and he was convinced they would be together forever. He detoured to a nearby town to buy flowers. Wandering down the High Street, he was stopped in his tracks by the sight of a woman with a baby coming towards him. Stunned, he recognised the Princess and she burst into tears when she saw him. 


“Oh my Prince,” she cried, “why didn’t we take our chance of love. If we had stayed together this would never have happened.”


Sobbing, she told him some months after they had parted she had been raped in her sleep by a close friend of her family and became pregnant. Her family had insisted that she married the father of the child.


So, no happy ending here. The moral: seize the day, second chances are rare.


ENTRY 24

FELICITY by Mike Lansdown

Once-upon-a-time, in a place called Epping, lived a girl called Felicity, who everyone – well, almost everyone – loved. But Felicity was sad because despite being a kind and caring young individual, she had left school with not a single certificate to her name and now found herself with no job and very little to do.


One day, wandering in the forest, she spied a nursery, a place she’d never ever noticed before.


‘That’s very strange,’ she thought, ‘I wonder if they might need a kind and caring young individual to help with their children.’


Well, miraculously, they took her on straightaway and in the twinkle of an eye she found herself in charge of Alex (who rarely spoke) and his six three-year-old friends.


“Oh! How I love you all!” she exclaimed, beaming.


‘And we love you too!’ they answered as one (except Alex) ‘have a lovely weekend, Felicity; take care of yourself!’


To celebrate her new job, Felicity decided to visit her ‘local’ where her school-friends always went. She straightened her fringe, added a dab of blusher, then kissed her mother goodbye - and promised, of course, to be back by midnight. Then, she grabbed her purse, and the twenty pounds she’d taken out that afternoon, and caught the 305 into town. 


‘Flick!’ her friends cheered as she entered the pub - all apart from Tanya who sat and glowered in the corner: Tanya, who was clever, cruel, and jealous of all pretty girls, especially Felicity.


Tanya elbowed one of the gang in the ribs: ‘Urrggghhh! Look what the cat’s dragged in. Friggin’ Felicity with her floppy fringe!’ and her friend giggled nervously, as Tanya was prone to violence. ‘Oooh, she’s done herself up, like the slag that she is,’ which was as far from the truth as it was possible to be – but nobody argued with Tanya.


Now, across the pub, leaning on the jukebox, was Darren, a trainee para-medic, and every girl’s dream.


‘Will you look at those pecs?’ Tanya said, a little too loudly, through an increasingly drunken haze. ‘What wouldn’t I do to have the Kiss of Life from him!’ and her friend snorted her approval.


Suddenly, to Tanya’s horror, Darren and Felicity were talking, giggling, staring into each other’s eyes! Hold my Girl played on the jukebox; a warm glow enveloped them as they smooched.


‘Right! Enough! I’m moving in!’ Tanya whispered darkly, ‘Freckle Face has to go!’ 


She joined them at the jukebox.


‘Dar, Flick…sick to see you!’ she lied. ‘Want a gobstopper?’ 


Felicity, so kind and naïve, picked a large one, popping it into her dainty mouth.


Immediately, she began to choke, and fell to the floor, Tanya’s low cackle the last thing she heard as everything went black…


Next thing she knew two strong arms were around her waist and Darren was whispering her name softly in her ear.


‘F’n Heimlich Maneuver!’ Tanya yelled, disappearing forever into the cold, dark night.


****


Post-Script:


Tanya lived happily ever after.


Felicity and Darren didn’t.


ENTRY 25

THE BURN by Helen Nicell

Once upon a time in the mountains of bonny Scotland lived 3 wild haggis. They had long brown coats that dried in dreadlocks when they got wet…of course in Scotland that was most of the time. Their legs were like matchsticks, but surprisingly strong. They were very agile and would happily run up a mountain, looking for the best grass to feed on.


Shamus, Hamish and Cameron were brothers. And, like most siblings, they often argued. They lived in 3 caves next to each other. Shamus was very tidy and liked everything in its place. He never left anything lying about. Hamish was so untidy, you couldn’t see the floor of the cave for all the rubbish; dirty dishes strewn everywhere. Cameron’s cave was ‘homely’. Not too tidy, he knew where everything was but the cushions weren’t straight. 

They argued about how different their homes were.


Shamus was a confirmed bachelor, he wasn’t interested in the lady haggis that roamed the mountains. Hamish loved the ladies and spent many hours pursuing the ‘shaggis’ as he called them! Cameron only had eyes for Morag, his true love, they spent many hours together, visiting the Lochs and waterfalls. 

They argued about their love lives.


Shamus was a vegetarian, he would cook lentils and forage for mushrooms in the glens. Hamish was a huge meat eater, enjoying rabbits and ferrets, usually caught by his lady friends! Cameron liked a balanced diet, he always had porridge for breakfast, Scotch Broth for lunch. Dinner was traditional Scottish dinners like mince and tatties! 

They argued about their choice of food.


The winters were bleak on the mountains. The demand for haggis reached its peak on the 25 January. The humans celebrated a poet’s birthday, by eating haggis. If the brothers knew hunters were about, they had a special call to each other and they would race to the caves. This year Shamus spotted some humans across the valley. People with cameras and a man dressed in white, wielding a cleaver. He was really tall, with flame red hair, shouting


“Where’s the F***ing Haggis? I’ve got to catch one for the programme. We’re going to cook it live on air.”

“Mr Ramsey, would you like us to send the gamekeeper ahead for you?”

“No I f***ing don’t!” he screamed “I can catch a bloody haggis, the most stupid animals!”

Shamus let out the warning call and his brothers started racing to the caves, but they had to cross the valley. Shamus ran out, diverting the chef’s attention. Gordon spun round and saw the haggis.

“There!” he started running towards Seamus, cleaver in the air.

The three brothers darted in all directions. Gordon Ramsey tripped and fell into the stream.


The brothers squeezed into a cave, puffing. They started arguing about how they’d escaped the mad chef. Cameron shook his head and said,

“Brothers, at the end of the day, we care about each other. Let’s raise a glass to our escape.”

They didn’t argue for the rest of the evening.


ENTRY 26

FOR THE LOVE OF YOU by Ian Welland

Once a upon a time… oh lord, here we go again! 


How does one write a fairy tale without sprinkling sugar on the top?


There’s got to be an impoverished figure; hero figure; a witch or wizard; a cat; four mice; and evil sisters, right?


Well, not always. Fairy tales are all around us. We can even create our own fairy tales in the things we do and the way we treat each other. They may not be traditional “fairy tales” as our actions are reality and real, but the overtones are similar, surely?


One can be a hero by being fair. One can tell a tale without it being tall. One can be a fairy godmother or why not a fairy godfather…? oops, hang on… maybe a godfather, forget the fairy bit! So, says St Peter!


Anyway, here’s my story…


One day, I got up and may have dragged the comb through my hair. I can’t remember that bit as everyday routines at the same time on the clockface merge into each other. Took a quick detour to drink a cup of tea as, pulling back the curtains, I noticed the freezing fog outside my door being thickset and likely to be slow to clear. I wasn’t late, nor did I require the bus. I don’t smoke so that’s where the song ends folks! 


It was new year, a typical January winter day and cars completely iced. Two layers, two scarves, two pairs of gloves, I ventured out into the pea soup and almost with a chilled blindness walked into the gate when I actually should have opened it!


Decisions, decisions… do I scrape my wife’s car, my son’s car, my daughter’s car, as well as my car…? running four engines and adding to the smog already descended? Be eco-friendly, eco-friendly, recycle, recycle, rethink, rethink, repeat, repeat! 


Life is like an engine of a car. The batteries require charging every night before starting up again at daybreak. Ok, decision made. One car at a time with mine last as it is the oldest and without a heated windscreen, so, the worst carbon footprint in our family’s collection. ULEZ is on its way and so is the bill to replace our cars. I wonder if the new cars will have enough power to tick over whilst scrapping of the ice takes place and still have enough power to get us from A to B and back?


****


(An hour later, the answerphone message)…


‘Hello darling. Thanks for scrapping my car. I saw you had done the same for the kids. They're not up yet. The mist has lifted along with the temperature. Told you before, leave the bloody kids cars. Don’t waste your energy. Not worth it. Anyway, see you at home tonight. Fish and chips, your favourite.’


****


(A knock at the door at home)…


‘Hello, I’m Constable Holland; this my colleague Constable Travers. Are you Mrs Greaves?’


‘Yes’


‘May we come in and speak with you?’


‘Has something happened?’






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