Tiny Tales from the Hidden Grove

By Elizabeth Hopkinson

From the author of Tales from the Hidden Grove comes a new collection dedicated to flash fiction. Delve into a pick-and-mix of very short stories, in which Cinderella is a leprosy patient, two housewives knit themselves boyfriends, a nereid appears in Bradford Wool Exchange, and Homer's Iliad is only 50 words long.

Includes stories previously published in Binnacle, Flash Flood, .Cent and Byzarium.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jun 5, 2018
• ISBN: 9780244979515

Book preview

Tiny Tales from the Hidden Grove

Tiny Tales from the Hidden Grove

Copyright

Copyright ©2018 by Elizabeth Hopkinson

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

ISBN 978-0-244-97951-5

Hidden Grove Press

22 Pasture Side Terrace (West), Clayton,

Bradford, West Yorskhire BD14 6LW

www.elizabethhopkinson.uk

Once Upon a Time

Blood on the Mirror

First published in Byzarium, November 2005. Winner of the monthly flash fiction contest.

Last time I had to do this, I lost my nerve.  I won't be doing that again.  There were misgivings last time, guilty apparitions that would have haunted me.  Not today.  Today I am completely certain, more certain than I have ever been in my life.

The maids of honour are wailing.  The old Chancellor's hands tremble as he helps her to the block.  How can I do this?  That's what they're thinking, I know.  Her gown as white as snow; the block as black as ebony.  And the red…?  I test the axe blade with the edge of my thumb.  Oh, yes.  Let them wail.  Their day is over; revolution is coming.

The tender neck shows as the hair cascades over the floor.  She clasps her hands in prayer.  Such innocence!  You almost had me fooled.  But I won't be your stooge any more.  I suppose it was your last gasp chance, the only thing to do after all else had failed.  If you can't beat them…  Of all the faces you conjured for yourself, I'm surprised you thought of this one last.  One wouldn't expect a villain to scruple about cheating to win.

They have blindfolded her as a courtesy.  They must be blind themselves.  The eyes are the mirror of the soul.  Only you never liked what yours had to say.  I suppose it told you that you sold yours along with your poisoned trinkets.

She has dropped the act now.  They still don't see it; they think the poor lamb is hysterical.  No matter.  I