Fairy Tales of Cliffside Vol 1: The Escapist

By Corey Daggett

A near-death experience brings an aspiring author face to face with a group of fairies who've been living in the woods for years. It seems like paradise until he is sucked into their problems. The story is a blend of happy dreams and chilling nightmares. It's the first part in a multi-part series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Corey Daggett
• Release date: Apr 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310633577

Corey Daggett

I enjoy writing fun, quirky stories with a blend of action, comedy, and suspense.

Book preview

Fairy Tales of Cliffside

Volume One: The Escapist

Corey Daggett

Copyright 2015 Corey Daggett

All Rights Reserved

Smashwords Edition

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please visit CoreyDaggett.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Cover design by E. A. Jones, SabertoothLizzie.com

Chapter 1: Secret of the Woods

~

Bye honey. Blair said, giving Malcolm a kiss. She wore a suit with a skirt that ended above the knees, the rest covered in panty hose. Malcolm thought she looked quite alluring, especially with the high heels shaping her calves so nicely. She labored to pull the strap of her bag over her shoulder. Good luck with your writing.

He smiled back at her. Bye. See you tonight. He waved as she clopped away. Once she had disappeared down the stairwell, he closed the door. Malcolm turned to Arthur, who was slouched on the sofa. You heard the lady. Time to get to work. Arthur glanced up at him lazily, then went back to licking himself.

You’re always so helpful. Malcolm said as he shuffled into the kitchen. He quickly slapped together a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, then went to the bedroom. That was where he had a small setup for writing: a TV tray, an old computer chair, and his laptop. As the computer powered on, he chomped the sandwich. Soon he was staring at a blank page in his word processor, the text cursor blinking over and over, as if mocking him.

His hair was dark brown and short, but long enough to be a mess, standing up here and there. His stubble showed that it’d been a while since his last shave. He never got out of his pajamas until afternoon. He considered his tattered robe to be the source of his creative power, so he would never write in the mornings without it. However, as of late, the robe hadn’t been doing its job.

He finished his sandwich and put his hands to the keyboard, ready for creativity to strike.

Two hours later, Arthur decided to make his presence known. He came into the room and jumped into Malcolm’s lap. He wasn’t a very big cat, but his white hair puffed out from him in all directions, making him seem enormous. Oh come on, Arthur. Can’t you see I’m writing?

Arthur looked at the screen with no words, then looked up at Malcolm.

"Okay, can’t you see I’m trying to write? Go on somewhere. He picked the cat up and set him on the floor. The problem is... I don’t know what to write about. Do you?"

The cat gazed at him with big blue eyes. "Mraow!"

Malcolm dismissed him by flicking his hand. Too cliché. Try harder. He folded his arms and stared at the screen. Staring... staring... staring. The blinking text cursor was hypnotic, both mocking and inviting.

He jerked, as if awaking from a dream, and minimized the window. He navigated to his online publishing account. At the top of the page, it said, Account Balance: $13.52 He sat back in his chair and folded his arms, a grin on his face.

See? he said, looking at Arthur. I am a writer.

Arthur didn’t seem to care how many short stories Malcolm had hawked on the internet. He simply sat like a statue and narrowed his glare, as if to say, I’ve listened, now you owe me.

Malcolm continued watching the amount, as if waiting for it to suddenly shoot up into four and five digits, proving to everyone that his career choice hadn’t been a waste.

He smacked his legs and stood up. Well, that was fun. I think it’s time for a break.

It was going on lunchtime when Malcolm made it to the coffee shop downtown. He had walked from the apartment, not only because he enjoyed walking, but because Blaire had taken the car to work this morning. But walking around the small town of Cliffside wasn’t so bad. Everything was neatly compacted together on Main street. The cell phone store that Blaire managed could be seen across the street and a couple blocks down.

Malcolm ordered his usual: a tall iced coffee with French vanilla creamer. He didn’t like trying new things. It usually led to disappointment. The barista was a young girl about Malcolm’s age. Her dark hair was short and she wore thick-rimmed glasses accompanied by several piercings. She smiled a warm smile as she passed his cup over the counter. Malcolm smiled back. Thank you, Tabby. As always, you’re coffee is the best in town.

Tabby tilted her head and gave a smirk. And how do you know that, Mr. Birshire? You haven’t tried it yet.

Considering this is the only coffee shop in town, I made a wild guess.

Oh haha, witty as always. she said. So how are the stories coming?

Malcolm sipped from the straw. He nodded with approvement. I was right, this is the best. You were saying?

I asked how the stories were coming?

Oh, fine. Just fine. I’m chipping away day by day. When I publish the next one, I’ll be sure to let you know.

Thanks, Mr. Birshire. I’ll be looking forward to it. I really enjoyed the other ones. She rested her arms on the counter and her short sleeves bunched up a bit, revealing colorful tattoos lacing her arms above the elbows. Malcolm admired them for a second. A fairy sitting on a lily adorned her right arm. The fairy stared upward with a hint of whimsy in her eyes. "Alone in Paradise was great. It really kept me flipping the pages."

He took another sip as she talked. Oh yeah, I enjoyed writing that one. Glad you liked it.

I really did. What was the meaning behind the flower on the hill?

Malcolm thought for a moment. There was no meaning to the flower on the hill. He had simply wanted to set a certain mood in the scene. He thought a little more before answering. The flower... represents Jeffrey’s plight. Always surrounded by beauty... no one to share in it. He shot another smile at Tabby as he sipped from the cup, a feeling of victory soaking over him. By George, he was a writer, and a damn good one at that if he could come up with nonsense like that.

Ooh, that makes so much sense now. Why didn’t I think of that? She smiled back at him. I’d really like to try writing something. But... Tabby shrugged. I don’t know.

Why not? It’s not the hardest job in the world. You just need to commit to it and see it all the way through. That’s the challenging part.

Oh, you mean like how you’re working so hard right now?

Malcolm ignored the sarcastic voice that taunted him.

I guess so. she said. Maybe I’m also a little nervous about letting my stuff be seen... and judged... by the world.

It sucks, I know. But it’s still better than doing nothing, I’ve found.

Yeah, you’re right. Maybe one day.

I’ll read every book you write. I’m sure they would be superb.

She chuckled. Thanks, Mr. Birshire. I’m glad you have faith in me.

The utmost faith. Don’t count yourself out until you’ve tried. And speaking of which, I need to return to my own work.

Thanks. See you tomorrow.

As always.

Malcolm left the shop, his steps lighter than when he’d come in. As he walked home, enjoying the iced coffee, he fantasized about what tattoos might be hiding beneath Tabby’s clothes.

Once he reached home, the coffee was gone and he again stared at the blank screen. No ideas had come to him. He had hoped the walk might bring something. Arthur was asleep on the bed behind him. Malcolm glanced over his shoulder at the lazy cat. Gee, wish we could trade places. He stared at the screen for another hour or so before finally giving up and leaving the apartment again.

There was a small park near the center of Cliffside. It was simply a square of grass and a fountain surrounded by benches. It had been designed with tourists in mind. When the summer came and they wanted to get away from the sweltering heat, they would flock to Maine