Once Upon a Reality

By Erin Lee and Alana Greig

Six twisted tales based on the classice.

What happens when fairy tales get real? 

Are you ready to face reality?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Crazy Ink
• Release date: Sep 26, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386593607

Erin Lee

Erin Lee lives in Queensland, Australia and has been working with children for over 25 years. She has worked in both long day care and primary school settings and has a passion for inclusive education and helping all children find joy in learning. Erin has three children of her own and says they have helped contribute ideas and themes towards her quirky writing style. Her experience working in the classroom has motivated her to write books that bring joy to little readers, but also resource educators to help teach fundamental skills to children, such as being safe, respectful learners.

Book preview

Dedication

For all those who still believe in fairy tales.

The world needs your hope.

Authors’ Notes

Some people say there are two or more sides to every story. They also say the glass is either half full or half empty, depending on how you look at it. We believe them.

But that’s about the only thing we agree on when it comes to fairy tales. The reality is, depending on where you come from, what you’ve seen, and your own life experiences, we all see the world a little differently. Some people believe in fairy tales. Others don’t. We represent both.

Two authors with a shared passion for words and story-telling but very different voices on opposite ends of the big pond, we didn’t know if we could pull off a joint project that would do the stories justice. And then, as happy endings generally do, it clicked. We decided to go our separate ways, play with the words, and then, bring them home to these pages.

People also say it’s not about the happy ending, it’s about the journey. We agree. What happened when we combined our works was magical. (To us, anyway.)

Join us while we toss a little reality back at the classics. What happens when fairy tales get real? Well, brave friend, you’re about to find out...

-  Erin Lee (the realist)

-  Alana Greig (the believer)

Glossary of English Terms

Caul

The amniotic membrane enclosing a fetus.

Folly

A costly ornamental building with no practical purpose, especially a tower or mock-Gothic ruin built in a large garden or park.

Verge

A grass edging such as that by the side of a road or path.

Puce

A dark red or purple-brown colour.

Put paid to

Stop abruptly; destroy.

By the name of

Called.

Rubbed along

Cope or manage without undue difficulty.

Based upon the renowned Giant with Three Golden Hairs

The original story:

A boy is born with a prophesy that he'll marry the King's daughter. This irks the local King, who befriends the boy's parents and buys their son, who he throws in a box in the river, hoping to be rid of him. The boy is found and taken in by a miller. He grows up, but the same King finds him and realizes his identity. He offers the boy some gold in exchange for carrying a letter to the Queen. The letter is actually a nasty trick; it contains instructions to kill its bearer. On his way, the boy stops by a cottage that turns out to be a robber's den. The robbers play a prank and change the letter to say that its bearer should be wed to the King's daughter. 

The King is upset when he gets home, so he decides to get rid of the boy by asking him to go fetch three golden hairs from the giant's head. The boy is asked to help others on his way, investigating why a town's fountain has run dry, why a golden apple tree is barren, and why a ferryman cannot leave his post. He promises each person he will have the answers on his return. The giant’s grandmother takes pity on the boy and hides him, plucking each of the three hairs while also asking for each of the solutions to those various conundrums. 

The boy is richly rewarded by the people he helps on his return. When the greedy King tries to go get his own riches, he's tricked by the ferryman into taking on his duties. So the King is stuck ferrying while the boy enjoys his new throne, wife, and riches.

The real deal:

The Lucky Bastard

Tom Jenson never had any doubt that Emily was the one for him. From the day he first saw her, riding on a pink bike with purple ribbons hanging from its handles, he knew he’d one day marry her. It never mattered much to him that her father was the chief of police and that he’d warned him a dozen times not to look at her. Tom paid exactly zero attention when the old man with the flashy badge said that she wasn’t the girl for him and tightened the cold metal cuffs around his wrists years later.

Even after high school, when Emily was tied up—literally, behind closed doors with thick purple rope—with star-crossed eyes and the hometown football jock, Tom knew. ‘Til then, he hadn’t had the best fortune in the hand he’d been dealt, but in this one way, he was lucky. He just had a sense for things; knowing what was inevitable and how to be just patient enough to get exactly what he wanted. And Emily? Well, she was no different than the cards he drew at pick-up poker games in the neighborhood long after other kids were home for curfew.

It was on an ordinary Monday afternoon when Tom was playing hooky from his job at the gas station that his luck found its way to him again. This wasn’t the first time, of course. Lately, things had been getting easier. It might have been the way he thought of things. Something had changed and he’d decided fortune came in many forms. That is, for a dude who grew up on the wrong side of the tracks in the worst neighborhood on the south side of Philly, he’d also been the guy to win on scratch tickets not once, but five times. In fact, the Mustang car he drove—the one that always got him in trouble with the cops—came off one of those lucky buys just a few months before. But this day was different. This wasn’t a random draw of long straws. Because, like it or not, there is no price tag on love. And Emily was his—the one true love they speak of in fairy tales. (If you believe in that kind of stuff.)

On this day, the average Monday, Tom decided he’d had enough. He’d called his boss, a guy with a cleft lip who swore too much, and said he had better shit to do than to pump gas all day for minimum wage. He’d told the old man that the weather was nice and that he had no intention of ruining a perfectly good beach day. The boss, with his mouth hanging wide, had just nodded; uncertain of what to do but knowing better than to argue if he had any hopes of getting the young man back in time for the next day’s morning commute.

Tom didn’t take the car on this particular afternoon. Instead, he decided to walk through town to find something to do. Abandoning the plan of a drive to the beach, Tom settled on an early lunch at the local diner—a place known for its pulpy orange juice and fat pancakes. The pancakes were to die for and were served at all hours. They weren’t anything like the pre-mixed, powdered kind his mother picked up at the local food pantry in plastic white bags with blue writing and long-past expiration dates. His mouth watered as he finally arrived at the diner parking lot. He could practically taste the maple syrup Lindsey’s Diner had shipped straight from Vermont—a place he’d never been to but always hoped to visit.

It occurred to him to stop. To turn around and forfeit his plan to wink at his favorite waitress and ask her for extra blueberries on top. He considered returning another day. It might not have been worth it to stay, he mused, when he spotted the cruiser in the parking lot. But no. Lately, Tom was a lucky bastard. He wasn’t about to let a warrant for an unpaid speeding ticket stop him. With his chest puffed out and a twinkle in his eye, he walked right into that diner and sat down at the main counter exactly three stools down from Emily’s father—smirking.

Chief Robert Pecanza took exactly one look at the young man and was hardly amused. In fact, he grunted so loud the waitress returned to fill his coffee cup on the house. Of all the hoodlums in town, Thomas Michael Jenson was the last one he hoped to share a meal with. In fact, being anywhere in his proximity made the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. There was something about the kid he didn’t like—specifically how his only daughter looked at those wide green eyes of Jenson’s. He remembered the time he picked the boy up for drinking underage at a party. It was the same party his daughter had snuck out to attend in her sophomore year of high school. He thought about all the tickets he’d written the kid—probably never paid—over the years and the way he always rolled down his window and said, Is there a problem officer? Punk. That’s all he is. Ignore him. Emily doesn’t even want him. She’s got Scott. And that’s a kid who is going places. Playing college ball.

"Hey Chief! Long time no see. How’ve you been? How’s Em? Here for pancakes, again?"

Silence.

Is Em still up at school or is she back in town? Maybe I could drop by and visit. I’d love to catch up.

That was it. No. Stay away from her.

No? Not back from school?

No Emily. Period. She has a boyfriend and they are serious. They’re planning to get married.

Really? That’s interesting, Tom said, laughing.

What’s funny?

Nothing.

The chief grunted, picked up his coffee, and wondered if he should just cancel his order. There was no way he’d be able to eat around a kid like Tom; only looking for trouble. Still got that sports car?

Yep. Even put on a new dual exhaust. You wanna try it? It’s sweet.

What the hell is wrong with you, kid?

Tom shook his head, then tilted it to the right. What do you mean?

You and me aren’t friends.

That’s too bad. I think we should be.

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Well, Emily.

I told you already. Emily is not interested. Drop it.

It doesn’t work that way. Emily gets to pick, not her daddy.

"She made her choice. She’s with Scott. That kid is going places. You’d never see him wasting away in this God-forsaken city. She’s got plans. Dreams. So does he. You won’t see him pumping gas with no degree."

Oh. Is that so?

Yes.

The chief motioned for the plump waitress with the yellow teeth. Check please, he called from across the counter.

But what about your pancakes?

He shook his head. Cancel it. Not hungry.

She lifted her eyebrows, forming an O shape with her lips. Okay then. I’ll get the check. It’s just coffee and the pie from last week, right?

Yes.

He fumbled in his pockets, past the holster around his waist, for his wallet. Unsuccessful in retrieving it, he checked his jacket pockets and looked under his napkin. It was missing. Fucking kid just robbed me? Really?

It took everything in him not to impulsively jump three stools over to choke the life out of the kid who’d been obsessed with Emily pretty much her entire life. But, like it always did, his logic quickly kicked in.  No. There’s no way he did. I didn’t have it with me. Besides, he hasn’t gotten close enough to me. It must be in the cruiser. Fabulous.

Looking for something? Lost your phone? Tom asked, watching the chief as he stood and patted himself down.

My wallet.

Don’t worry about it. Just get out of here. I’ll spot ya.

"I don’t do handouts. Certainly not from a punk like you."

Jesus. Grateful much?

The chief ran his thick hand over his balding head, scanning the long countertop one last time for any sign of his wallet. He called the waitress over, explaining the situation to her and trying not to worry about how it made him appear. This wasn’t the first time. All the while, he ignored the snorts coming from his unwanted lunchtime companion, who was smacking his lips as the cook put a ten-inch stack of blueberry pancakes on the metal shelf across from them, hitting a metal bell to alert the waitress that