Fairly Wicked Tales (17 page)

“What are you talking about?”

The man smiled. “Don’t play games with me, Simpleton. I watched you kill both of your brothers, and I heard you blame the murders on me.”

“I didn’t kill my brothers.”

The man pulled from behind his back the severed head of Kinder. “Sure looks killed to me.”

Simpleton smiled as the man made a show of looking into the eyes and mouth as doctors are fond of doing. “I didn’t blame the death on you. I blamed it on a tree sprite.”

“Don’t play stupid with me, boy.” The man tossed the head into the air towards Simpleton. He reached out his arms to catch it, but the head landed gracefully with outstretched wings. It had transformed into a beautiful goose, whose feathers shone of pure gold. Simpleton gawked, enchanted by the beauty. The goose raised its majestic head to the moonlight and snapped its bill on Simpleton’s nose. With a scream, Simpleton dropped the goose and backed away cautiously as the bird hissed and fluffed its feathers at him.

The man laughed wildly at Simpleton now, slapping his knees in hysterics. “You are such a fool that you could make even the princess laugh.”

Simpleton, enraged by this demeaning turn of events quickly grabbed a stick, and stood off with the goose. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you now and blame you for the deaths of my brothers.”

“Come on. Simpleton,” the man said. “Surely you have figured things out by now. I am Marduk, a wizard of such great power that you are no match against me, even when you are armed with a snake.”

The stick in Simpleton’s hands instantly began to squirm. He dropped it to see a large black snake trying to flee the situation it mysteriously found itself in, but the goose showed a bizarre carnivorous nature and plucked the snake up by the head and swallowed the serpent in three large gulps.

“What do you want from me?” Simpleton’s voice was soft and defeated.

“I only want to make you king.”

After a long pause, the wizard continued. “The King has promised his daughter’s hand and, subsequently, his throne to any man that can break the curse I put upon her. You will be the one to break the curse.”

“How can I break the curse?”

“By bringing her the Golden Goose. You see, the Golden Goose is, you could say, her laughter, her … soul.” The Wizard was now smiling broadly, and his youthful mask cracked under the stress to reveal gray and withered skin.

Simpleton thought for a moment, and then smiled too. He hated the idea of being under the wizard’s thumb, but seeing the true age of the man gave him confidence that soon Marduk would be dead, and the rule of the kingdom would be left in his hands.

“Should I go to the King now?” he asked.

“No. Load your wagon and return home. Start a search party tomorrow for your dear brother. Then join the King’s men to hunt me. You will not find me. After you are dismissed once again from the King’s militia, return to work cutting trees. Start with the old oak, and inside you will find the Golden Goose waiting for you.” With these instructions in mind, Simpleton set to work loading the wagon with the remaining wood.

That night Simpleton sat at his mother’s side, drinking sour beer, and assuring his mother of Kinder’s inevitable return. At the first rays of sun, Simpleton went into the woods and sat down for a short nap. After waking, he went back to his mother and told her he glimpsed a tree sprite dancing away wearing Kinder’s coat. The old woman sunk into her chair and wept until her heart stopped. Simpleton buried her under a layer of moss and set off to tell his story of Kinder’s death to the King.

The King and Queen treated Simpleton as a young orphan, cooing over his loss, and Simpleton embraced the sympathy and cried and carried on for the better part of the day. The King hired Simpleton as the chief of the hunting party to find the tree sprite, or Marduk, or whomever the villain might be. The hunt went on through most of the winter, and Simpleton spent his time in a royal cabin giving orders and directing the men as to where to search.

After many months, the King came to Simpleton and informed him the search must be called off, but the King offered to hire Simpleton on his personal staff, a job highly sought after and deemed a great honor. As tempting as the job was, Simpleton refused. He told the King the forest was his home, and that as long as a possibility existed of finding the killer of his whole family then he would be out searching for him. Over his time working on the King’s hunting party, Simpleton had researched many solutions to his problems. The answer came to him in the form of a sour beer.

Simpleton returned to the forest with a growler hoisted on his shoulder. Upon seeing him, Marduk stepped out from behind the old oak. “The Golden Goose is in place inside the tree. I’ve placed a binding spell on the bird that will hold anyone other than the first person to touch it. Four people trailing the goose will break the spell on the Princess, but the more people trailing, the more potency will the love spell have on her.”

Simpleton smiled. “Join me friend, in a celebration toast.”

The old wizard gave Simpleton a quizzical and suspicious glare. He leaned over and smelled the sour beer as Simpleton ladled the brew into mugs. The wizard raised his glass in prost but did not drink.

“Prost,” Simpleton said, and then he took a long gulp of the sour beer. He covered his mouth and belched into his hand.

The old wizard then lifted the beer to his lips and took a hesitant sip. His fingers instantly jerked open, and the mug spilled into the gray dirt. With quivering lips, Marduk stepped back. “What have you done to me?”

Simpleton took another long drink of the beer. “The beer has a potion in it. One which blocks all magic for a short time.”

“Fool. Stupid fool.” Marduk said, but the words were muffled by the magic mask melting from his face. His lips, red and plump, cracked and dribbled around the corners of the mouth, revealing black lips, thin and hardened. The firm and proud cheeks sagged and deflated into waves of flapping skin. The beautiful hair fell in clumps to mix with the beer and mud. “I will kill you for exposing me.” The words were barely audible through gasps for breath.”

Simpleton did not speak when he pulled out the ax from its holster. He lifted the weapon high above his head. Marduk’s old hips gave out and he pitched forward. Simpleton side stepped the falling old man and swung downwards. Where the head parted from the shoulders was a single drop of thick blood.

Simpleton picked the head up and tossed it into a canvas sack which he pitched into his wagon. Then he went to work on the old oak tree. He did not set out to chop down the tree, but merely to expand the hole which had engulfed his brother’s head many months ago. He instantly heard the goose honking from within. In a matter of minutes, the hole was wide enough to extract its mysterious prize: the foul tempered Golden Goose that was the soul of the princess.

Simpleton held the goose up with an arm under each of its massive wings. He admired the golden sheen of each feather. The goose hissed and pecked towards his eyes. Simpleton dodged the blow and laid the goose inside a small wooden crate he had brought in the wagon. The goose protested its entrapment and honked endlessly as Simpleton left the forest behind him and pulled his wagon into town.

Remembering Marduk’s instructions for the curse of the goose, Simpleton stopped for the night at the inn outside of the King’s castle. He parked his wagon on the side of the inn, lifted out the Golden Goose and the burlap sack with Marduk’s head, and entered the dilapidated building. Commotion and chaos echoed through the inn, but as people caught sight of the goose, they stopped what they were doing and stared longingly. Simpleton pretended not to notice. He went to the bar and inquired about a room. After hearing the meager price required, Simpleton plucked a single small feather from the goose’s back and handed it to the innkeeper. “Will this feather of gold be enough to compensate?”

The innkeeper held the feather to the light and ran his finger along the barbs. His wife scurried up behind him and snatched the feather away to examine it under the oil lamp’s light. She nodded happily. Simpleton followed the innkeeper up the narrow stairway to his tiny room. He thanked the man, set the sack under the bed, and allowed the goose to wander the room while he kicked off his boots and climbed into bed.

After only a few hours, Simpleton heard the door squeak open. He could see by the dim light that the would be thief was a young girl of about nine. He allowed her to slink across the room and grab at a feather on the goose. She shuddered when her fingers touched the bird, and then remained perfectly still. For several hours the girl remained crouched by the goose. Soon, another girl came to the room desiring the gold herself. When she spotted her sister, she whispered to her. “Miranda, what are you doing?” When her sister did not reply, the older sister came into the room and tapped the girl on the shoulder. There was a spark at the touch, the older sister opened her mouth to scream out, but her eyes glazed over, her mouth slackened, and she stood motionless with her hand on her sister’s shoulder. In the hours just shy of morning, yet another sister entered the room. She did not speak and swiftly grabbed the older sister by the wrist. The same spark momentarily lit the room and was again followed by the same frozen and enchanted look.

At dawn, Simpleton slid out of bed, edged his way around the three sisters to get his boots on. He looked at them as he tied the leather chords of his boots. Their eyes were a milky white, and their lips a pale and cracked distortion. Their faces were slack as if they’d suffered brain damage. Simpleton smiled and gave the three sisters a sarcastic curtsy. He then fetched the burlap sack and picked up the goose, who was strangely content with the trail of sisters attached to it. As Simpleton worked his way in the tiny room past the sisters, they also moved in stumbling steps to stay connected to the goose and each other. The instant the three sisters were out of the room, their mother saw them and attempted to yank them away from the goose. She too fell into step behind Simpleton with white eyes and slack features. The innkeeper charged Simpleton as he exited the shabby building. He hit Simpleton once in the belly before brushing against his youngest daughter and instantly succumbing to the spell.

Simpleton went towards the castle, but on the way several townspeople came into contact with one of the trailing cursed. By the time he reached the castle’s gates a dozen had fallen under the spell. Almost instantly the gatekeepers and royal guards joined the mass. It was then that the princess, a woman of enchanting beauty, came to the window and observed the trail of cursed. Her mournful, emotionless face cracked into a smile. The goose honked. The princess heaved a coughing chuckle. The goose honked again. The princess began to laugh uncontrollably. As she laughed the trailing victims of the goose began to fall lifeless to the grass in the Royal Garden. As each one fell dead, the louder and harder the princess laughed until only Simpleton and the Golden Goose were alive in the Garden, surrounded by piles of dead peasants and guards.

The King came to the window to see what and who had cured his daughter of the horrible curse which had besieged her for many years. Upon seeing the King, Simpleton pulled the head of Marduk from his sack and declared the villain to be finally slain. Overjoyed by Simpleton’s accomplishments, the King immediately arranged for a celebration. While the people of the land mourned the many deaths of the townspeople, the royalty celebrated the death of Marduk, the curing of the princess, and her joyful engagement to the woodsman Simpleton.

Rumors have since floated through the town the old King’s death after the wedding may not have been accidental as reported, and that King Simpleton’s reign was tainted with black magic. Regardless, he lived happily ever after.

About the Author

Robert Holt
lives in the St. Louis area. He is the author of a horror novel
Death’s Disciples
, a collection of children’s stories titled
The Vegetarian Werewolf and Other Stories
, and a plethora of short stories that can be found in anthologies and on the web. Look him up on Twitter, Facebook, and Wordpress at Holthorror.

A Prick of the Quill

A retelling of “Hans My Hedgehog”

Lizz-Ayn Shaarawi

The rooster’s crow was the first inkling I had that something was terribly wrong. It was not the sound of the little cocks running through the courtyard, pecking at the toes of those who lingered too long. No, this was a bellow that shook shutters and spooked old women.

The noise caused me to jerk my head up, neglecting my needlepoint in my lap. Silly little Agnes raced in, her face flushed from exertion.

“Eloise, come quick! A stranger’s arrived.” She glanced down at my hands and cringed. “You’re bleeding again.”

I followed her gaze. My right hand, acting of its own accord, had jabbed the needle into the tender flesh of my other hand. I quickly pinned the needle to the cloth and bade her to fetch me a hand towel to wipe the blood away.

My father refused to meet my gaze as I entered the throne room. This was nothing new, for in the previous weeks he’d become distant and cold. I had no idea what I had done to anger him, what petty offense could have caused his normally warm heart to freeze.

One day my father, King of Cadfan, went out hunting as he was wont to do. A large party accompanied him, as was the custom. Always a sporting man, it gave him much pleasure to ride through the thick woods and chase down a stag or boar. He’d return victorious each time without fail.

Until the day he didn’t.

He left in a hail of fanfare, dogs and riders, pages and knights each vied for an opportunity to be near him. Strong, brave, and wise, he was a much beloved King. I gave no thought beyond the dress I planned to wear to the feast of Saint Bartholomew. Allowing a quick brush of his lips on my cheek, I did my daughterly duty and rushed back to the castle.

At mid-day the hunting party hadn’t returned. No matter, a particularly aggressive prey may have led them on a prolonged chase. As the afternoon sun sank lower on the horizon, murmurs spread through the castle. The hunting party never stayed out this late. What if something happened to the king?