What if Cinderella were a mechanic? What if Snow-White were ugly? What if Rapunzel ran away on her own and became a magician? What if The Little Mermaid were originally human?
This book contains a collection of twisted fairytales. So twisted are th...
I ran away. Yes, I ran away. Why? Well... would you want to be treated like a scullery maid by your stepmother? No? I didn't either.
I can tell you, there have been some miss-tellings of my story. People seem to think that I am compliant and did whatever my Stepmother ordered. That is incorrect!
Another thing is that they always forget my love of mechanics. That is a key part of my tale!
Anyway, I had better start at the beginning...
The love of mechanics didn't start with me, but my mother. She would make these incredible insects and animals.
They would have the ability to move as if alive, and would once she sprinkled a tiny bit of fairy dust on them. This fairy dust had to be kept secret, for all things fairy were confiscated and banned. The knowledge of the existence of the fairy dust was passed down from mother to daughter over generations. These insects were always made with a purpose in mind. The spiders, for example, could sew.
My family also had to make a living so she would make common tools such as boot-blackeners. My father, in turn, would trade or sell these to meet our needs. I was never really close to my father since he would be abroad, sometimes for years.
I had always been close to my mother. We were even closer than sisters. It was because of that, that I changed after her death...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
This is me. Yep, no blonde hair or blue eyes. I have black hair and green eyes. Yet another, stupid error!
But, anyway... To continue! My mother died as you SHOULD know of a rare strange illness, causing her to die a long painful death. My father, thinking he was doing what was best, locked up all of Mother's things in her workshop. I missed them and her dreadfully. Because of this and my grief, I changed.
Before she died, I was a carefree, cheerful, bouncy, and altogether pleasant person. After she died, I became a ghost of what I had been. As soon as chores where done, I would delve into a book, or daydream in an attempt to forget what had happened. Our housekeeper, Mandy, grew increasingly worried about me, and finally mentioned it to my father (who hadn't seemed to have noticed yet). He thought that needed a mother in my life again.
As a result, he married my stepmother and brought her and her two spoiled brats of daughters into my life. At least he meant well...
My father left two days after the wedding. Unfortunately, he would never come back. The boat he had been traveling on sank. When my step-family found out, they were not sad in the least bit dismayed at the debt my father had left (his business had been getting worse for years). As a result, Mandy was dismissed, and I was to take her place and make up for the debt that MY father had left. I was also moved to the cellar.
I was furious but had to comply. I had NO choice in the matter. It was that, or live on the streets. I chose the former, for the moment.
The fact is, the chores and hard work, actually restored my spirit and brought me back to reality. Still, I wished to be out of my stepmother's thumb. So, I hatched a plan. One that involved accessing my mother's workshop...
