Fairy Tale Inspired Poem: Ugly

Ugly

By

Dorlana Vann

Mask of various natures I have worn.
It’s different than the day I was born.
A senseless mistake was made on my part.
Now I exist in shadows and the dark.

My castle walls hide my grief and despair.
Servants, my companions, also prepare.
I find beauty in all except me.
Oh, life so cruel and as deep as the sea.

Wisdom is not always for those who sought.
Nor can virtue or selflessness bought.
I would give my wealth for bliss and song.
Freedom and affection I truly long.

Please stare at me as if I were classic
See beneath the hideous and ugly facade.
Love me for who I am, not what you see.
Then maybe my beauty will set you free.

Fairy Tale Short Story Inspired by “Jorinda and Joringel”

Quiet on the Nightingale

Fairy Tale inspired (Jorinda and Joringel)

short story from Dorlana’s collection Supernatural Fairy Tales

Before climbing aboard the Nightingale, a 60-foot yacht, Jake listened for a second to make sure its owner, Richard King, slept. From the cockpit, Jake climbed the stairs to the upper aft deck, and with little effort, he opened the glass door to the enclosed bridge. He had been tailing the millionaire for months and knew this was the necklace’s location.

Jake had never talked to Mr. King but had heard his thoughts about purchasing the diamond and blood-red ruby necklace for his wife. Jake had followed him to restaurants, golf courses and parties, patiently waiting until King’s mind revealed all the details, down to the code on the safe.

He pulled the ski-mask off his face before punching in the numbers. Opening the safe without incident, he reached in and brought out his prize. He didn’t stop to examine it—plenty of time for that later—but stuck it in his pocket, ready for his quick exit. He stopped again to listen and to make sure all was clear.

“Now that wasn’t very nice,” a female voice said.

Startled to a slight stumble, he twisted around to see who had caught him. The silhouette of a woman sitting at the small table, her arms and long legs crossed, came into focus. Why didn’t I hear her? He wondered.

Her voice moved gently, “That’s my necklace.”

Shit. Mrs. King. “This isn’t what it looks like,” he said, buying some time as he weighed his options; running seemed a very good choice at the moment. She might scream, but he already had the loot in his pocket. By the time Mr. King got his wits about him, he would be long gone.

Her thoughts finally sounded in his head: I wish he were here to pinch more than that ruby.

Well, there it was. It wouldn’t be the first time he had used his pretty-boy looks to get out of a situation. But when she stood up—the moonlight shining full-force on her smart face—he doubted she was the type of woman who could easily be swayed by his devilish charms. She reminded him of an elegant movie star from the 1940s like Ingrid Bergman or Lauren Bacall.

She languidly walked over to him, her heels softly echoing on the wood floor. “May I have my necklace back?” She extended her hand gracefully.

Taking a step back, he wondered why he suddenly felt so intimidated. He had known plenty of rich, beautiful women. He needed to take control of the moment and his nerves. In the darkness, the burglar and the wealthy woman stared at each other for a mere second before Jake grabbed her bare shoulders and kissed her hard on the lips. Unexpected fire exploded between them, and he pulled her closer until he embraced her fully. He could feel her hands on his waist, moving slowly down the front of his pants until—

Jake gently pushed her away and had to smile, but he didn’t let go of her arm. He brought her hand up, revealing the necklace.

She shrugged her shoulders and sighed. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

He licked his lips tasting the memory of her kiss, her thoughts letting him know she wished she could see all of him. “The Country Club tomorrow night,” he said as he snatched the necklace, gave her a slight nod and left, before he couldn’t pull himself away.

Two Weeks Later

Like some bad movie cliché, he found the note she had left on her pillow:

Dear Jake,

I’m afraid my husband has decided to leave this morning. I couldn’t bear to tell you. Please forgive me. In another lifetime perhaps.

Love,

Jezze

Jake crumbled up the letter wondering how in the hell he’d missed it. Maybe she just pushed it out of her mind because it was too painful.

Love Jezze, she had written.

“Shit,” he said. “I do.” He suddenly found himself playing what if: What if I would have told her I loved her? Would she have stayed? Would she leave her rich husband for a crook? Would she come back with me now if I caught the yacht before it hit open water?

Regret swept over him as he put on his pants, because he had known for a week that she had feelings for him, yet he had said nothing. Let on nothing. Just another stolen treasure. At least that was what he had told himself before that morning. Now the only thing he thought was that he had to get her back.

His Jag hit the highway at sixty-five miles an hour, the windows down, and the air thick with morning. Their hotel/love nest was only a few miles away from the bay, but he couldn’t be sure what time she had actually left his bed. He had fallen asleep some time after midnight. He looked down to see the time, realizing his watch wasn’t in its usual place on his wrist. Must have left it on the nightstand.

As Jake jumped out of the car, he knew he had no idea what he would do if King tried to stop him. He listened as he ran, listened to see if he heard Jezze saying, I’ll miss him so much!

Jake ran up the steps that lead to the ramp and then to the spot where the yacht had been docked. When he realized he was too late, that it was gone, he cursed himself and stomped the pier. Searching his mind for conversations and memories of her thoughts, he plopped down on the steps. Did she say where she lived?

Soon, he decided to leave, promising himself that he would not rest until he found her. He would rummage minds for the slight mention of Mrs. Jezze King. As he stood, someone else’s thoughts blurted inside his head. At first he tried to ignore them, not wanting to listen to another person’s problems. But then, he heard something he just couldn’t ignore…

***

Jezze sat at her vanity brushing her hair as she looked at the newly acquired necklace. She sighed. It entranced her as it sparkled in the glistening sun that streamed in through the porthole. Knowing how difficult it would be to part with, it certainly hadn’t been easy to obtain, she had considered keeping it. So exquisite.

She wiped new tears from her swollen eyes. No, the necklace would only remind her of him. Her buyer had already offered a beautiful price, so she would go on as planned. Maybe she would set sail after the transaction and take a much-needed trip.

She had lived on her yacht for over a year, loving the open water, the smell of the sea and the freedom to travel whenever she became restless. If Richard King had not docked his yacht in the same water as hers, her life would be so less complicated. If she had gone on home that night when she heard Jake coming after her necklace, things would have been so less complicated. If she would have just let him take the necklace without trying to seduce it out of him…

She doubted Jake even knew others like him existed, others who had superior control over their gift. She had learned to listen for other mind-readers years before and trained herself to stop her own thoughts at the first sign.

She had been getting ready to go home that night, when she had heard him. Mistaking her for Mrs. King had just been a crazy break; there was a real Mrs. King, somewhere, but it wasn’t her. It had been kind of fun pretending to be the adulteress, instead of the other woman.

Jezze unlatched the necklace from around her neck and put it back in its black box. Stop crying Jezze. This is just how it has to be. She never expected to fall in love with Jake for real. Over the past two weeks she had searched for signs of mutual admiration but found nothing.

“I think you have something that belongs to me.”

She held her breath and swung her attention to the familiar voice. Richard King stood at her door. Lost in her own thoughts Jezze must have missed his. “Sweetheart,” she sang. “I thought you left.” She stood up cautiously. She could certainly read his thoughts now…

Mr. King was a fairly tall man, but the way he stood there, his chest heaving in and out and his teeth clenched, he appeared monstrous as he growled, “Did I not treat you well? Did I not give you enough money for your services?  You were good, but not fifty-thousand dollars good.”

She put her hair behind her ears, feeling the tremor of her hands. “Why are you so upset, handsome? What happened?”

“Don’t play games with me. Give back my necklace, and I’ll be on my way. I don’t want the publicity for being with a woman like you any more than you want jail time.”

“I didn’t steal your necklace. Just leave before I call the cops and have you arrested for trespassing.”

“You bitch!” He raced toward her.

Before Jezze knew what had happened, she was staring up at the ceiling, King’s handprint-sting across her face. He stood over her and drew back his fist.

She tightened her body for the blow, when King suddenly flew across the room and landed on her vanity with a crash. She sat up, tears blurring her view. Jake stood over Richard, daring him to move. They all noticed the necklace at the same time, out of the box and on the floor.

“Don’t even think about it,” Jake told King. “By the looks of you, I don’t think fifty grand is payment enough.”

King sat up, still eyeing his necklace.

Jake continued, “Just collect your insurance, lick your wounded ego, and you’ll be fine. Now get the hell out of here.”

Jezze chose to ignore King’s thoughts of justice and revenge as he walked out the door. She also decided not to focus on what Jake must have thought of her. “Thank you,” she said to him, unable to look him in the eyes. “How did you know where to find me?”

“After I found the Dear John, I came looking for you. I heard King coming after you, and then I heard you thinking. I heard everything… I know everything.”

“Just take it; I don’t want it.”

“I’d rather have you,” he said. “The only thing I heard that matters to me is that you love me.”

She found his sincere stare and listened to the thoughts he fed her. That’s why I was looking for you. To tell you, I love you.

She smiled and jumped into his arms, giving him tiny kisses all over his face until their lips met. After a silent conversation, they separated and began removing their clothes.

“Hey,” Jake said, looking on the floor at the mess from the vanity. “Is that my watch?”

The End

Supernatural Fairy Tales

Supernatural Fairy Tales by Dorlana Vann

Supernatural Fairy Tales eBook will be free May 30 – June 1, 2014.

Fairy tale inspired paranormal short stories.

fairy tale + paranormal element = supernatural fairy tale.

These 9 Supernatural Fairy Tales are not retellings of the original fairy tales but were inspired by them. They are paranormal themed stories about vampires, ghosts, mermaids, witches, and more, in genres ranging from romance to thriller. And fair warning: they don’t always have a happy ending.

Superstition References in Silverweed: a supernatural fairy tale

 

Silverweed by Dorlana Vann

Silverweed: a supernatural fairy tale by Dorlana Vann

 

The superstition references in Silverweed are a combination of my grandfather’s stories and an informative superstitions dictionary.

I’d never really been that superstitious, except for doing things like tossing salt over both my shoulders—yes, both because I didn’t know which one was correct. However, my interest sparked in 2006 when my mom told me about my grandfather’s childhood stories. Apparently, his mother (pictured on the right – my great-grandmother – I think I kind of look like her) died when my grandpa was five-years-old; it happened the day after she’d told him to stop shooing the birds away that had landed on their front porch, because it meant death.
My grandfather had also told my mom that one day he had watched the devil walking out in his Alabama woods, pitchfork and all. (You might recognize this from the first chapter of Silverweed.)

Around the same time my mom was reminiscing, I was writing the rough draft of the the Little Red Riding Hood inspired short story, and all of these memories set the entire mood for “Silverweed Muffins” which eventually became Silverweed the novel.

As I was writing the story, I researched superstitions. It took me awhile but I finally found a reference book I really liked, Dictionary of Superstitions by David Pickering. Even if you don’t need the book for reference, it’s interesting to see how our lives today are influenced by these superstitions from the past. BTW – the correct shoulder to throw salt over is the left one.

Paperback and eBook  available

(Special limited time price of .99 cents for Kindle eBook) 

Amazon US

Barnes and Noble

Amazon.de

Amazon.co.uk

Two Years of my Writing Journey

 It seems crazy but it’s been a little over two years since  I started this blog.  My first blog was aimed mostly towards using fairy tales as inspiration for stories, but when I started this blog I wanted it to be more about my adventures in writing as a whole – which doesn’t always include fairy tales.

Below are 16 posts sparked by the last two years of my writing journey – pretty much in descending order – during which time, I finished  my children’s book for my little boy and wrote two books of a three-book romance series. ( I hope to be able to officially introduce them soon.)

Love and Laughter,

Dorlana :)

Don’t Take Critiques at Face Value

How to Defeat Writers Block with Lies and Deceit

I forgot to “Save the Cat”

Keeping a Novel Diary

You Know You’re Addicted to Writing When …

Book 1 vs. Book 2: The Tortoise and the Hare

The Second Draft is Country Music

The Third Draft is an Empty Tube of Toothpaste

Concept, Characters, and Then Story. Oh …

When Did You Start Writing?

The Retelling of a Fairy Tale 

Franken-Bio

When One Door Closes

Character & Story Exercises

Frustration: a writers BFF

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