Fairly Wicked Tales (16 page)

Hare peeked back and saw the elephant-like legs below a shell large enough to serve as the lizard king’s castle. Its terrible neck stretched up into the sky ending in an expressionless face. The overlord didn’t even bother to look down on his prey.

Hare huffed. “Do you even have a human form?”

Hare took a few steps off the road toward the sun dipping into the trees beyond the ravine. He felt the grass under his three feet. He felt it brush his belly.

Hare dropped his head and fell to his side. He considered pulling himself to the edge and tumbling down the finish line cut across the Earth just a single stride away from his body. He might not win the race, but he would deny the tortoise one more kill.

“That’s not what my father would do.”

The tortoise veered off the road as it closed on the Hare in the grass. Hare had bled into his fur and mired his hide with dust and mud making it unfit for curing. The overlord clearly had other intentions for the insolence of the hare trying to escape and outrun the authority of the scales and shells.

Hare’s eyes began to slide closed. “I’m sorry, mother. I tried and I failed.”

The tortoise’s feet found bones hidden in the grass and crushed them into dust as he approached the finish line with excruciating slowness.

Her voice whispered back softly causing Hare’s ears to perk one last time.
It’s okay, son. You can rest now. We will see you very soon with all your brothers and sisters.

The tortoise took his time placing his foot over Hare’s body. Once he had him centered and pinned, tortoise rested his massive weight, barely feeling the spine snap and the ribs shatter. Hare was too exhausted to scream.

The shelled overlord never glanced down. He made a slow, wide turn to return to the road and to begin the long journey back to the shell castle. Full darkness set in before the tortoise finished turning and before Hare finished dying.

The tortoise’s back foot slipped over the finish line. The monstrous reptile did not react with fear. He lifted the leg up slowly to step back on solid ground. The ground crumbled again under his weight and both his back legs slid off together. The tortoise lowered its long neck to try to lean forward, but he acted too late and too slowly. The wall crumbled and his massive body tumbled over the finish line, crashing through the trees on his back. The sharp rocks cracked his mighty shell.

Hare’s vision blurred in the darkness, but he saw the tortoise fall. Hare’s body started to transform in response to the pain. His bones slowed their change and stopped expanding in mid shift. His ears and nose remained. He had too many teeth in his partially changed mouth.

Hare groaned as life seeped out of his twisted, broken body.

The reptile overlord took a very long time to die as he expired at a slow and steady pace. Hare won the race down to death even though he never crossed the finish line.

Hare’s half-human chest hitched as he struggled to breathe his final words. “Curse the shell.”

The reptiles wrote the official version of the tale praising the pace and virtue of the tortoise, but the surviving creatures with hair kept their own telling in their hidden burrows. As the small mammals snuck out for food under the tyranny of the reptiles, some of the curious or courageous among them would venture out to the finish line to view the last stand of the hare and the hollow victory of the tortoise overlord. In the darkness, they transformed into human shapes to use their fingers. They touched Hare’s bones near the line resting peacefully in the grass. They peered over and witnessed the trees growing through the tortured shell of the monster. They whispered their secret cry of rebellion spoken by Hare and by his father before him.

“Curse the shell.”

As quickly as the words left their human lips, they regrew their fur and shrank back into their smaller bodies.

The mammals scurried back to their hidden homes dreaming of future days lived in the warmth of the sun. They hoped for lives without hiding or running. They imagined the time where they might give their war cry out loud at the gates of the lizard himself because Hare had the courage to run his final race in the sunlight of his last day of life and lead the deadly monster overlord to his finish line.

About the Author

Jay Wilburn
lives with his wife and two sons in the coastal swamps of South Carolina in the southern United States. He left teaching after sixteen years to care for the health needs of his younger son and to pursue full-time writing. Both his family and his writing are doing and going well. His novels include
Loose Ends
with Hazardous Press and
Time Eaters
with Perpetual Motion Machine Publishing. His work appears in
Best Horror of the Year volume 5
with editor Ellen Datlow and in
Zombies: More Recent Dead
with Prime Books. His collections include
Zombies Believe In You
and a shared collection
Dragonfly and the Siren
with T Fox Dunham and artwork by Amy Rims. That trio is joining forces again to create another spectacular collection. Follow his many dark thoughts at JayWilburn.com and @AmongTheZombies on Twitter.

The Golden Goose

A retelling

Robert Holt

Once upon a time, on the edge of the dark forest lived a little woman with her three sons. All of her sons were special to her, and she awarded all three with nicknames for their abilities. The oldest son she named Wiser, for he was as smart as anyone in the village. Her middle son she named Kinder, for nobody had a kinder heart. The third and youngest son was Simpleton. Simpleton raged over the nickname as many of the town folks would utter the name with a sneer and treat him as though he was slow or stupid, but that was never his mother’s intention. She named her son Simpleton for his eagerness to always discover the simplest solution to any problem.

Simpleton lived up to his name on the first day the little woman sent her sons out into the forest to chop trees for firewood and to sell in the village. Simpleton separated from his brothers immediately and rested in the shade of an old oak tree. He could hear his brothers working long into the afternoon. Near sunset, Simpleton got up and stretched. He spotted his brother Wiser coming with his wagon filled with fine logs and timber.

“Greetings, Brother Simpleton,” Wiser said as he approached. “How did you fair today?”

Simpleton smiled. “I should say a fair bit better than you.”

“What do you mean?” The coy smile faded from Wiser’s face.

“Your logs, brother, they are clearly diseased.”

Wiser looked at his logs. “How can you tell?”

“My eyes are very sharp. I can see the tiny worms crawling between the rings in the wood.”

Wiser bent close to study the logs he had cut. Simpleton strolled up behind him. He lifted his ax in the air. He paused for a moment to decide which side of the ax would be best. The sharp side would be a sure kill, but the blunt side would leave less blood and raise less suspicion. Simpleton chose the simplest choice, and the ax fell with the blunt side down upon the back of his brother’s head. The dull thud was virtually silent amongst the clatter of the forest.

Hiding the body was Simpleton’s first instinct, but he knew the body would soon be found by the King’s dogs. Instead, Simpleton hoisted the body on the cart of wood and brought it home to his mother.

Upon seeing her first-born dead on the cart of wood, the little woman broke down into sobs. Simpleton tried to console his mother, and once Kinder returned with his bundle of wood, Simpleton told his story about how his brother had died. “A little tree sprite came upon Wiser while he was eating his cake and drinking his beer. The sprite asked for a bite, and Wiser refused. The sprite hurled a curse at Wiser. Soon thereafter, a tree Wiser had started to cut fell in the wrong direction and landed upon him. He was alive when I found him, and he told me this tale before he died.”

Kinder and the little woman wept over the tale. The little woman blamed herself for not having placed the virtue of kindness in her departed son as she had done in her other two. Kinder went out for a moment and returned with two shovels. “Come, Simpleton, help me bury our brother.”

“I cannot,” Simpleton said. “My body is weak from a day’s labor and the hauling of the extra weight of the body to the house.”

Kinder buried the body alone.

Simpleton’s story began to spread across the village and many people believed the tree sprite that had killed poor Wiser was none other than the evil sorcerer Marduk whom the King had banished from the castle for stealing the ability to laugh from his daughter. The King sent out a search party to find the villain. Simpleton and Kinder were both hired to help with the search. After many months, the search was abandoned, and Simpleton and Kinder found themselves employed once again as wood cutters.

The first day back in the forest, Simpleton left his brother at the entrance of the forest and went down by the pond to sit and watch the day pass by. As the sun began to slide off in the west, Simpleton meandered back to the large oak tree. He waited for his brother’s return. Before long, Kinder came struggling back, pulling his wagon, filled so full, it was extremely difficult.

“Hello, brother,” Simpleton said as he regarded his brother. “You have a heavy load there.”

“Indeed I do.” He smiled through his strain as he pulled the heavy load. “I figured we would need to double our efforts with one less hand helping us cut since the death of our brother.”

“True, brother, but remember we also now have one less big mouth and bigger belly to feed.” Simpleton smiled. “Our job should be easier without him.”

Kinder stopped pulling the wagon and wiped sweat from his furrowed brow. “I cannot believe you would say such a thing.” His face shriveled and tears shone in his eyes. “Wiser worked harder than all of us. He ate more because he earned more to eat.”

“Easy, brother, I meant no harm by my words. Perhaps I am justifying my lack of wood to show after the day.”

“You did no cutting?”

“None,” Simpleton said and watched Kinder’s tears turn to frustration, and then to anger.

“Why? Why would you come to the woods when our mother is hungry and our very lives hang in the balance and not cut any wood?”

“Because I have been seeking vengeance for our brother’s death.”

Kinder shook his head in frustration. “That is a fool’s errand. If the King’s search party could not do so, how can you ever expect to accomplish the task alone?”

“I did not seek out the villain. He sought me out. He confronted me here and tried to get me to help him to kill the king.”

Kinder paused for a moment as the words were processed. “He came to you?”

Simpleton smiled. “He did.”

“And what did you tell him?”

Simpleton smiled even broader. “I spoke not a word, but my ax spoke plenty.”

Astonishment crept onto Kinder’s face and quickly spread. He was shaking with excitement. “You have killed the vermin?”

Simpleton shook his. “Not yet, but I have injured him and have him cornered.”

“Where?”

Simpleton pointed with his ax. “Over there in the hole in the old oak.”

Kinder instantly moved towards the oak tree. Simpleton moved in step beside him.

“Do you know the King has offered a reward of twenty pounds of gold for his corpse?” Kinder’s voice crackled with excitement.

“I know it well.”

They got to the large oak and Kinder stuck his head into the hole to glimpse the evil wizard. “I see nothing,” he said.

“Let your eyes adjust. He is there for sure.” Simpleton lifted his ax into the air and allowed the setting sun to gleam off the blade for a moment. The ax caught Kinder at the base of the neck, cutting side down. The blade severed through the skin, tissue, and bone, before falling all the way to embed itself into the soft dirt below. The headless corpse fell on top of the ax and pushed it deeper into the dirt.

Simpleton moved with deliberate speed to a dense thicket where his own empty wagon had been stashed. He hoisted the headless corpse by the armpits into the wagon. Simpleton then lifted a heavy stone onto the body and strapped the wagon, body, and stone together. With a great shove, Simpleton got the wagon to begin moving. He then directed it down the hill towards the lake. He whistled to himself as he maneuvered the heavy wagon into the water where it immediately sank from view.

With the easy part accomplished, Simpleton went back to Kinder’s wagon to begin his real day’s work. The wagon was far too full for Simpleton to pull; after all, his arms were not accustomed to such grueling tasks. Instead, he unloaded half of the wood, and hauled the other half to the house.

Upon seeing his approach, the little woman rushed out to meet him. “Oh Simpleton, thank the gods you are alright. Have you seen your dear brother Kinder?”

“I have not, mother, but do not fret. Kinder is a resourceful lad and will surely be alright.”

“I do hope so. I have been so worried.” After these pleasantries were over she looked down at Simpleton’s wagon. “Is this all the wood you could garner from the forest? If so, we will surely starve.”

Simpleton kissed his mother on the forehead. “This is just my first load. I have another this size, but I could not pull the wagon under such a burden.”

The little woman smiled. “You are a good lad, Simpleton. You haven’t the strength of your brothers, but you have their will.” With those words, the little woman returned to the house and left Simpleton to stack the wood he had hauled.

By the time he returned to the forest for the second load, Simpleton was tired and cross. He was in the midst of cursing his brother’s name for having cut more wood than might be reasonably hauled in one trip when he noticed a man leaning against the oak tree where Simpleton had decapitated his brother. “Who are you? Why are you here?”

“Tell me,” the man said, “do you plan on blaming this murder on me as well?” His face looked young and handsome, but his voice sounded old and crackled with each utterance.