Just in time for the big day of little kids dressed in costumes knocking on your door and begging for candy, here's a short story to make you smile. I wrote it using my Mother's tale about how she started dating my Father with some heavy modifications...

​The vampire blows me a kiss. I look away with an eye roll and shiver. Of course I would attract that type: bloodsucker. “I must look like a little Type O,” I mutter.

The scrawny furball beside me shifts. “Type O?” His gold eyes quickly glide over me then flick to the vamp. “Not interested in being a tasty snack, huh?”

“Never.” Unlike most humans, I had no desire to become the play thing of a vampire. Sitting around this freshman meet and greet at the most prestigious co-form college in the country made me uncomfortable. I’d picked a college based on class size and intended major, not student body makeup. Dumb.

“Makes you an even rarer commodity,” the furball says, turning away, apparently done with our conversation.

My lips quirk up. “But just how rare?” I whisper, snorting at my own little joke.

I look up to find his amused eyes glinting on me. “Is it all co-forms or just that vampire?”

I shift, discomfort leaching into me. I swear it’s these metal chairs. That’s what I tell myself anyway.

“Well?” Annoyance makes his voice sharp.

My arms want to cross, a defense against his prying. One I’m forcing myself to stop doing. “I’ve lost...”

“Not the only one.”

​Glaring at his lack of sympathy, I lean toward him. “But mine have all been to his family.”

Those golden eyes bore into my brown ones. With a huff, I slump back and look away. I’m not even sure why I bothered to tell him that much.

“How about dinner later?” My jaw drops. “I promise I won't bite.” He smiles, holding out his hand. Or paw. I’m not sure what to call it. “Name is Robin.”

His touch is both warm and gentle. Not gross-out shiver inducing, which I anticipate the chill of vamp-arrogance over there would be. “Judy,” I reply.

“Nice to meet you, Judy.” His shaggy arm drops over my shoulders. “Just to keep him from trying,” he adds, though we both know he’s marking me.

It’s a kindness of sorts, rendering me repugnant to vampires. Even this skinny, runt of a werewolf could easily rip a vampire’s head off without breaking a sweat.

An angry hiss reaches my ears. The vamp lifts from his seat and glides out.

Comfortable warmth eases my tight muscles. I grin up at Robin. “I guess having a werewolf to date has its perks.”
​
Robin throws his head back and laughs. “I’ve always thought so.”

I read a lot. It's not all children's books to my kids either. For September of 2017 I've got the following things open on my phone or in print:

Note: links above are Amazon Affiliate links. I will earn a small amount of moola if you buy using them--at no extra charge to you. If you have the time, check around to your local library and see if you can get the books from them--I ALWAYS do this.

This is my first time participating in the Storytime Blog Hop. At the bottom of my story are links to everyone else who is participating in the blog hop. There is a wide range of flash fiction, up to 1,000 words. Never know what you might find to enjoy. Get'em a click!

This piece of flash fiction, at 1,000 words only, may or may not become the opening scene in a future series I am planning. It's not the first intro I've written, but it is the one I currently like most.

The deserted streets showed only the stragglers among us headed toward the mountain. “The Fating came a month early this year.”

My mother winced. “Because he wishes to punish me.”

“Are you ever going to tell me what you did?” I ask her, not for the first time. My whole life I have known two things: Rumplestilskin controls us all and my mother angered him before I was born.

Mother reached over to run her hand down my long blond hair, grasping a few strands in her fingers. “You are the greatest thing I have ever done.”

I rolled my eyes, turning away to continue walking. “That’s what you always say.”

“And it is always true.” Her voice is tinged with sadness and a kind of lost hope.

Looking at the few others, all trudging to receive their so-called Fate from Rumple himself, it seemed that we’d all lost what little hope we had left. The grey and brown of our town, unbroken by the flowers, trees, or curtains in old pictures added to the sense of hopelessness.

The furrowed brows and straight lips of each parent, escorting their sixteen-year-old child to the mountain, were a testament to how Rumple’s rule was meted out.

I had turned sixteen yesterday. My mother claimed the announcement that this year’s fating would occur today was a direct result. “So I have no more time with you,” she had sobbed into her ink stained hands after reading the missive.

For myself, I doubted the decision was anything but arbitrary. How could a newly sixteen year old girl with no skills justify changing the time of the Fating? It was beyond imagination.

As we stood at the base of the mountain, the three story high wooden door yawing open before us, Mother turned to me. “Take this with you.”

She handed me a little bundle of waxed paper folded around too-old cheese. The odor was strong enough to reach my nose before I touched it.

“Ew. No. That stinks.”

Mother forced the crinkled mass into my dress pocket. “Of course it does. It hides it.”

I made to remove the package but her hand on my wrist, griping tight enough to bruise me, caused me to raise my eyes to her.

“I can not tell you what I did. Forbidden. But you will learn soon enough.” Mother moved close, her words rushed and low. “Use what is inside to save yourself.”

Dropping my hand, she stepped back, her eyes blanking as if nothing remiss had occurred. She patted my cheek. “You’re a good daughter, Adora.”

Masking my shock at this sudden change, I nodded dutifully and whispered, “I love you, Mother.”

Mother smiled. Looking at her, I noticed the lack of tears in her eyes. Whatever she had given me, she was paying a price in this moment, possibly our last moment together. Mother was never without emotion except on these rare occasions.

Hugging her quickly, feeling her arms spasm around me, knowing that she was fighting the effects of what bound her, I felt the first real fright for what was coming.

Like all the children before me, I entered the mountain and began the climb to Rumple’s throne room. Unlike the others, I knew he was there due to the absence on Moira, the Fate. Without her to guide and rule, Rumple had enslaved Aesotopia a hundred years ago.

At least that’s what my now dead great-grandmother told me when I was young. Today, more than any other day, I felt her loss keenly. Mother loved me, but it was great-gran who had filled my head with the stories of her youth in the days and years before Moira disappeared.

Rumple looked up from his throne as my name was called. He smiled, jagged teeth showing clearly in the overly bright light that illuminated him. His clothes of deep blood red seemed to glisten in the same sinister way as his beady eyes.

“And thus the disobedient scribe’s daughter comes of age. Did your mother tell you that you, my dear, are the reason for her imprisonment?”
​
My answer showed on my face despite my efforts to hide the affect of his words. His grin widened. “Yes, your father and her best friend, the last sleeping beauty, escaped me because of her. I would have made her replace her friend but,” his eyes narrowed at me menacingly, “for the babe within her.”

Rumple leaned back in his seat, waiting for me to reply. I said nothing. Too many thoughts swirled and I knew not to trust him. Granted, I’d known to trust my mother only to learn about her biggest secret.

“Hm, the silent type.” Rumple steepled his fingers, his yellowed nails clacking against each other. “Perhaps you shall fill the void.”

My head tilted of its own accord. Rumple’s smile returned. “You can be the last sleeping beauty. I’m sure your mother will,” he sniffed loudly, “adore watching you sleep forever.”

Before I could fully react, guards were pulling me out of the throne room. My shouts were met with harsh, garish laughter from Rumple and stoney silence from the guards.

A large door opened before me and I was forcibly tossed in, tripping over moldy hay and dirty rags. “Let me out. I have the right to see my mother.”

Minutes passed. I yelled into the silence of the mountain dungeons. No one came, if anyone heard.

I sank to my knees, heading hanging forward against the door, sobbing. I banged my fist into the door, yelping in pain. The smell hit my nose, reminding me. The package.

Taking it out, I turned away from the door, least someone be watching. Cleared of cheese, a small round disk lay in my hand.

I felt for a clasp around the edge. Nothing. Squeezing between thumb and finger, it popped open to reveal a mirror.

My reflection looked a mess. Then I saw the words inscribed below.