Untitled #1 (a.k.a. This story does not have a fairy tale happy ending.)

Music: Me singing "Kill the Messenger" by Jack's Mannequin, with the electric fan whirring noisily in the background

A snippet of a short story in the making, just to get the ball rolling, get things (re)started, so to speak. Unbeta-ed, of course, so grammatical errors, subject-verb agreement errors, and typos may/might abound. Currently untitled too.

This story does not have a fairy tale happy ending.

Unlike Cinderella, there is no fairy godmother to grant wishes and no glass slippers to try on. Snow White’s seven dwarfs are not present to battle the evil witch, and no woodcutter to save Little Red Riding Hood from the hungry wolf. The beast continues to be a beast, and no Belle will ever fall in love and turn him back into the prince he once was.

There is only the lost young woman walking in the rain, bare feet caked with mud, white dress soaked with raindrops. She wanders around a deserted highway, summoned by an invisible force unknown yet familiar. She doesn’t remember her name, doesn’t know where she came from. She does not remember anything. She woke up and found herself in a shallow grave two months ago, but panic did not overcome her. She merely dug her way out and started searching for the source of that silent voice that beckons her.

And so she finds herself walking aimlessly in the streets, the pitter-patter of rain her only melody. How she survived those cold nights alone even she cannot tell. Many a times she felt danger lurking her way, and always she would escape before evil stops her in her tracks.

She feels that she is near her destination, that sooner or later she will meet the owner of this voice, the sole reason why she rose from the grave, why she, a lady Lazarus, continues to walk this earth.