My Fairy Godmonster

By Denice Hughes Lewis

Winifred, 15, becomes a modern Cinderella in this rural fantasy. She loves her life raising horses with her dad in Oregon. Until her brother returns home from college with his future-in-laws. They take over her house for a month to plan the wedding. Losing her mother at birth, Winifred isn't prepared for the scary dictator, the bratty child and creepy cat who take over her bedroom. Where else can she escape except the attic, a quiet place with her mother's belongings? When her dad leaves to pick up a prized stallion and her brother deserts her to pick up supplies, Winifred is forced into drudgery. A Fairy Godmonster with a malfunctioning magic wand shows up by mistake. Although Winifred admires her cool mentor, she's exhausted trying to keep Fairy Godmonster from being discovered. Overwhelmed with strangers in her house, pregnant mares, ranch duties, household chores and the handsome usher who makes her toes tingle, Winifred learns how hard it is to grow up. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Prism Arts LLC
• Release date: Mar 3, 2017
• ISBN: 9780998454757

Book preview

1. No Turn Around

The rays of the summer sun streak through the dark forest like sheets of iridescent gold. Dancer’s hooves barely touch the ground as we race through the trees. I’m flying, breathless. We ride as one. My horse’s strength and power ripple under me.

BOOM.

Black clouds and blinding chrome flash in front of us. Dancer stops dead. I fly off his back past a blurred vision of metallic wings.

My butt hits the ground. Owww.

I’m on my feet the minute I hear his terrified whinny. Visions of cougar and bear flash through my mind. Chills crash down my spine.

Dancer gallops for home.

Wait! Whoa, Dancer!

He’s gone.

I don’t want to turn around to see what scared Dancer enough to leave me behind. But I do.

Too terrified to scream, I stare into huge, yellow cat eyes shining from the mist. My heart pounds. The blood drains to my toes. I try to run. My legs collapse like wet noodles. Something grabs me by the back of my shirt.

Let go. I fall backward and can’t stop shaking.

The mist disappears. A female monster smiles at me, tiny fangs brilliant white against her creamy mocha skin. She is six-feet of lean muscle. Her face—a cross between a fox and a cat, yet oddly human. Orange hair spikes above pointy ears. Bright yellow boots with five-inch heels fit over a slinky red jumpsuit.

I jump up and run. Hear the crack of a whip and freeze.

A heavy weight hits me from behind, grinding me into the ground. I can’t move. Heartbeats slam in my throat. I gasp. Warm slime drips on my head.

An alarm blares. My eyes pop open. Kong slobbers on my face, pinning me to my bed. He’s my dog, a hundred-and-forty-pound bullmastiff. I weigh a hundred pounds wet. I want to hug him in relief, but I can’t move or breathe. Bells clang in my head.

Get . . . off.

The dog heaves himself off the bed. His tail whacks the clock against the wall. Relief.

I suck in air, heart still hammering my ribcage. Chills wiggle up my spine like speeding worms. I blink to be sure I’m in my bedroom. Somehow the ugly rose wallpaper comforts me. I calm down, unaware that a real nightmare is barreling toward me.

Life should give you road signs, warnings, so you are prepared when your heart starts to break an inch at a time.

2. Be Prepared To Change Lanes

Idrag out of bed and scrounge around for the clock. It’s dead, frozen at 6:00 a.m. The first day of summer vacation and I still have to get up for ranch chores.

Dad yells from downstairs. Winifred, breakfast.

How many Winifred’s do you know? Yeah, thought so. Dad named me after my mom. She died when I was born. I looked Winifred up in a baby name book once. It means ‘friend of peace.’ Not. With my red hair and temper? I wonder if it fit Mom? I think I miss her, but it’s hard to know what it’s like to have a mother.

My best friend, Jacinda Adoncia Belita Garcia, says I should live with her awhile. Then I’d know about mothers. But Jac, that’s what I call her, has five sisters and six brothers. Her mom doesn’t need another kid hanging around.

Dad and I raise and train a Latin American breed of horse called Los Caballos de Paso Fino, the ‘horse with the fine step.’ The Conquistadors used them for conquering South America. Our ranch, Smith’s Paso Finos, is cool. Forests and snowcapped mountains in Oregon surround us. I try not to think about the mountains because they’re extinct volcanoes. School is ten miles away in a small resort town called Sisters. Lots of tourists and artists live there.

Dad and I make a great team. I help with the ranch, feed the horses, muck out the stable and do the cooking and housework in our two-story farmhouse. It’s old, but freshly painted outside. I like the way the white columns and trim contrast with the deep green of the house.

The stable and barn are newly refurbished. We have a hundred and thirty acres of fenced pasture and forest wilderness.

Dad trains our horses, except mine, takes care of the pastures, the barn and runs the business.

The Paso Fino is a popular breed. These special horses have a natural, extra gait for a smooth ride. Very cool.

Being fifteen is not cool. I’m okay if I don’t look in a mirror. My freckles are not cute. Or using sunscreen all the time so my face doesn’t match my red hair. I have to face it. I’m plain, plain, plain. The boys at school whisper ‘ugly’ behind my back. They know if I hear it, my face turns red and they think that’s so funny. Boys are jerks. I steer clear of them.

I pull on jeans and a long-sleeved shirt.

Kong barks and paws the doorknob. Since his head reaches up four-and-a-half feet, it’s easy for him. He pushes out.

The delicious smell of frying bacon filters up the stairs. I hurry down, my stomach grumbling.

Morning, Win, Dad says. Happy Vacation. Thought I’d cook for you to celebrate.

I smile and kiss his cheek. Thanks, Dad. Do I dare?

He grins. Who taught you to cook, Miss Smarty Pants?

I tease him. Guess you can’t really mess up bacon and eggs.

Dad heaps a plate of dog food for Kong and sits it on the floor. It’s gone in ten seconds. Even I can’t eat that fast.

After breakfast, Dad and I watch a DVD about a stallion for sale. Dad uses Kong as a footrest. The dog sleeps a lot because he’s thirteen.

Dad admires the horse. Look at that stallion’s footwork.

Great confirmation, I say. I think he would complement our mare’s bloodlines. Are you going to buy him?

I want to. What do you think?

I’m proud that Dad values my opinion. We have researched stallions for weeks. I like him best.

Me, too. I’ll work on the finances and see if we can swing it.

The telephone rings and I answer it.

Hi, Win. How’s my favorite sister?

It’s my brother, David.

Ha, ha, I say, without smiling.

I’m David’s only sister. He’s seven years older and in New York getting his post-graduate degree in landscape architecture. A genius, he was admitted to Cornell University when he was sixteen. I used to talk to him for hours on the phone. Not anymore. He hasn’t been home in a year.

What’s new in your life? David asks.

School’s out. I frown, not knowing what else to say.

You’re talkative. Dad home?

Hold on. I give Dad the phone. It’s David.

Hi, Son. What’s up?

I watch Dad’s face. He isn’t talking, just smiling.

Congratulations. Dad jumps up, waving the phone. Win, David’s getting married.

What? My voice sounds funny. Like it’s coming from a dry well. David hasn’t even told us he has a girlfriend. How stupid is that?

Dad’s voice filters into my brain. Sounds like that took some fancy talking. No, it’s the perfect place. Don’t do that. We have room. How many? Hold the phone.

Dad turns to me. David wants the wedding here. Are you willing to house six guests?

Where will they sleep?

David’s fiancée can have his room. I’ll move to my office in the stable and her parents can have my room. We’ll put cots in the study for David, his best man and his brother. The little girl can share your room. What do you think?

Like I’m gonna’ tell him I don’t want anyone in my house. Dad and me, that’s how I like it. I don’t know.

His smile falters. Don’t you want David to have the wedding he’s dreamed of?

Boys don’t care that much.

David does. It’s been quite a task to get his fiancée’s mother to agree to come here.

Uh-oh. Not good. Dad, maybe they should have it there.

We can’t leave the ranch now, not with two pregnant mares due to deliver the end of next month. Having the wedding here is a good solution. He looks in my face. Come on, Win. It’ll be fun.

Are you going to delegate chores or is it my job to do everything?

Don’t be silly. We’ll all pitch in.

What an optimist. Dad spends so much time with the horses, he doesn’t have a clue that people are way different.

I look at his strained face. Okay.

He smiles at me. We’re on, David. I can’t wait to meet your fiancée. He writes in the tablet on his lap while he listens to David.

I itch and twitch. Not a good sign.

Got it, he said. When are you due home? Win and I will be ready. Take care, David. Love you.

When’s he coming?

In a week.

Who else is coming? I ask.

David is bringing his best man, John, and his younger brother, Scott. A few days after that, his fiancée, her parents and sister will fly into Salem and rent a car. They’ll be here for a month.

I leap off the chair. A month? I thought you meant a day or two. Call David back and cancel the whole thing.

I will not.

We can’t have six extra people here for thirty days.

Sure we can.

Dad, you don’t understand. Strangers can’t live together for a whole month.

Why not? We’ll be related soon.

Dad, get real. All families have problems and we don’t know these people.

I think the adults can handle it.

I stare at Dad and wonder what planet he came from. We only have two bathrooms.

There’s another one in the stable.

You gonna’ send the parents out there?

That’s enough, Winifred. Dad stares at me like I’m a stranger.

I look away, knots forming in my stomach.

Maybe you’ve had your way too much, he adds thoughtfully.

Dad, we don’t know how to plan a wedding. What about the cost?

He continues, way too cheerful. The bride’s parents are responsible for the wedding. They live in Boston. Staying here will make it easier for them to plan the wedding.

You don’t know anything about them.

Dad paces the floor, frowning.

Kong squishes under the coffee table.

It’s time you grow up, Winifred. Life changes. It can’t always be just you and me. I’ve been selfish not to expose you to different experiences.

I swallow the lump in my throat. I do lots of things.

For the ranch, he says. I’m talking about socializing with others. David’s new in-laws will be an extended part of our family. I’ve always felt bad because you had no grandparents or other relatives as you grew up. Think about it. You’ll be gaining something you’ve never had, sisters.

Sisters? My mind starts spinning.

Daria is younger than you are.

Cold shivers down my spine. Who’s Daria?

Dad looks at his notes. Claire’s younger sister. She’s seven.

I blink in confusion. Who’s Claire?

David’s fiancée.

Fiancée. A sharp pain twists through my chest. I haven’t seen David forever and he’s getting married.

I’d better get busy, Dad says. I wonder what David’s plans are for the garden.

Garden? I fight to hold down my breakfast. Spasms clench my stomach.

Yeah, didn’t I tell you? David wants the wedding in the garden.

I jump up and get in his face. NO.

He stares at me in shock. Why not?

I don’t answer him.

What’s the matter with you? he asks. David designed it when he was seven. He has every right to get married in the garden. You should be happy for him.

I can hardly breathe. Mom’s ashes are buried there.

Dad gets real quiet.

How can you be so happy? He’s never mentioned one word about a girlfriend and suddenly he’s getting married? My gut churns in misery.

Winifred, calm down. I trust David’s judgment. It’s settled.

Wait and see. I’ll end up doing all the work.

I’m sure everyone will help. With that illusion, Dad walks out the kitchen door.

I sink onto the sofa, exhausted. The nightmare and now this? I don’t even want to think about a wedding in my special garden—the coolest place in the whole world. David and Mom planted the garden when she was pregnant with me. David said flowers and plants grow there that shouldn’t in our climate.

Nobody knows how I feel about the garden. Not even my best friend, Jac. Dad never talks about Mom, so the garden is the only place where she’s real to me. The only place where I can talk to her. I can’t imagine the garden being trampled by wedding guests

The knot in my stomach tightens. Dad and I never argue. Until now. And the strangers aren’t even here yet.

A tiny crack splinters into my heart.

3. Warning - Males Approaching

Two days later, I finish cleaning house and look back into the living room. Memories fill every corner with love; the hobbyhorse, the old chest with my treasures, the wooden rocking chair that Dad made for me. I wonder if the people from Boston will see our place like I do. Full of old, but good furniture, roomy and comfortable. Ignoring the twinges in my heart, I head outside to clean the stable.

I pull on rubber boots and gloves and grab the pitchfork and wheelbarrow. My boots squish in horse manure mixed with pee. Beyond gross. Horse manure isn’t so bad when it’s dry. It’s only digested grass, grain and alfalfa that isn’t smelly. It’s great for manure fights with Dad. Kinda’ like throwing lightweight snowballs. When it is wet with pee, ugh.

I start raking. An hour of shoveling later, my clothes are ready for the washer. Pulling hay out of my hair, I know I look like Frankenstein’s bride.

Kong growls deep in his throat when he hears unfamiliar whistling. The sun highlights three dark figures standing in the open stable doors.

You in here, Win?

David is early.

How can I be seen looking like this in front of strangers? Why isn’t Jac here? She’s the only person who can do barn duty and never get dirty. She could have sidetracked these guys. What good is having a best friend if she’s on vacation when you need her?

Win? asks David.

Throwing down the pitchfork, I leap into a pile of hay to hide. The pointy strands stab like needles through my shirt and into my skin. I moan quietly and hear footsteps.

Nice view, Win, David says. You’ve grown a bit. He laughs.

I stop wiggling my butt. Heat whooshes to