Once Upon A Twist: An Anthology Of Unusual Fairy Tales by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Always Write Club
Published: 2018-01-04T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

“You will wait here,” Isolde says, showing me into yet another room. There’s a momentary silence as the chatter in the room falls off and the girls Leora had dismissed stare at me. Then they turn their backs and resume their conversations.

Chairs and sofas are dotted around the room, and drinks and snacks are laid out on small tables. At one end, double doors open out into a garden. Two men dressed in uniforms stand passively on either side of the doors.

I down a glass of the fruit juice, and then a second. They barely wet my parched throat. My stomach gurgles, reminding me that I’ve not yet had lunch, but the food on the table is so insubstantial that I doubt it will fill me up. Besides, it hasn’t been touched. The other girls are not eating.

I walk over to one of the groups and try and insert myself into their conversation. But they just stare at me with such hate that I turn away, embarrassed. They must think that Leora picked me out to favour me. I would smile at the irony if it wasn’t so painful. Two months ago, I was reviled for being ugly. Now, I’m reviled for being beautiful.

A faint breeze enters the room, carrying the scent of orange blossom, a smell so familiar that it brings tears to my eyes. I walk over to the door. One of the guards moves to block me, but I give him such a pleading look, that he relents.

“Just don’t go far,” he tells me as I step outside.

I lift my face to the sun and close my eyes, letting it warm my skin. I try and imagine that I’m back on the farm, but the smells are all wrong. There’s no woody smell of fallen leaves or the acrid stench of pig muck. Just the sweet perfume of flowers that are not even in season. I wonder if it is ever winter in these gardens.

A blue mosaic path leads me through the orange trees to a pond with a trickling fountain. Jewelled fish swim lazily around in the water. I walk deeper into the garden until I come across an orchard. The apple trees are old and heavy with fruit.

The sound of faint sobs draws my attention. I follow the noise through the trees to a figure, curled up in a ball on a small patch of lawn underneath a beech tree. It’s Anoushka.

She looks up as I approach. There’s a flash of terror in her eyes which turns to relief when she recognises me. Her eyes are red and swollen and her makeup is smudged by tears.

Kneeling down, I tentatively stretch an arm around her. “What’s wrong, Anoushka?”

She turns to me and I notice a large bruise on her cheek, barely visible under the makeup. Breath hisses through my teeth.

She gives me a sad smile. “The medical unit here managed to heal most of it.”

“What happened?” I whisper.

Her fingers twist around each other as if she can’t bear to be still, even for a second.

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