I like to acknowledge good news when I get it. Maybe that’ll make it multiply. :razz:

The manuscript is off. The deadline was met. Yay.
But the REALLY good news is that the editor seemed to like the story I wasn’t so sure about. YAAYYY!!!
Swear I could sleep for a week!

To celebrate my first deadline-victory, I’m gonna post a little fairy tale I wrote some years back. I’m very fond of fairy tales–but I confess I like to twist them a bit… :twisted:
I had fun with this one–but look for more excerpts to be posted on a separate page before the holiday weekend is over–something with a slightly sexier edge.

THE KINDNESS OF STRANGERS

Once upon a time in a land far away, a handsome youth lived with his beautiful but poor mother on the outskirts of the kingdom. Forced to raise the boy without a husbandman, the good woman did her best to support the child, but had finally come to her wit’s end.
She came to him one day, her face sad and drawn. “The time has come, my son. You have lost all of our money making witless wagers with your useless friends. You must learn the ways of the world.”
She handed him a black velvet pouch, secured with a dainty pink ribbon. “This is a magic pouch. Take this to the King–but you yourself must not open it, else it may lose its magic. The journey is three days by foot, so you must depend upon the kindness of strangers. If you will bet every gentleman you meet that the object within this pouch is of more value to them than anything they possess, the magic will work. But tell no man your name, and mind you return to me in a fortnight with your fortune.”

He was a dutiful, trustworthy lad, and, kissing his mother goodbye, set out upon his journey.
He had not so much as a hat to cover his poor sun-baked head, nor shoes to protect his feet. But he traveled without complaint, and by sundown reached the cottage of the village baker. The scent of fresh-baked bread greeted him as he knocked upon the door, clutching his pouch expectantly.
The baker, a round, red-faced man, welcomed him with a growl. “Away with you! I have a wife and eight children of my own! I cannot feed every beggar who comes to my door!”
The boy carefully repeated what his mother had told him to say. “Sir, I will wager twenty silver coins that the object in this bag is of more value to you than anything you possess.”
The baker laughed, noting the youth’s impoverished condition. “A wager I will accept!” He seized the pouch, opened it, and turned very pale.
The next morning, whistling and refreshed, the boy was off again, with twenty silver coins and a belly full of bread. :grin:

At the end of the next day, he approached the milliner’s fine home and knocked upon the door, clutching his pouch expectantly.
The milliner, a tall, needle-thin man, opened the door with a snort. “Away with you! I have a wife and four children of my own, and no liking for boys who beg!”
“Sir, I will wager twenty gold coins that the object in this bag is of more value to you than anything you possess.”
The milliner laughed, snatching the pouch. “A wager I will accept!” He opened the pouch, and turned very pale.
The next morning the boy set off again, with twenty silver coins, twenty gold coins, and a fine suit of new clothes. :grin:

He arrived at the castle that evening and, as he was well-dressed and bearing gold, quickly received an audience with the King.
The King, a lively, powerful man, sat beside his wife upon the throne. He regarded the handsome youth with admiration, casting a withering glance upon his own weak son.
After a low, graceful bow, the lad spread his coins before the monarch. “Oh, King, I have traveled far to wager with your majesty. I will wager all these coins that what I have in this pouch is of more value to you than anything you possess.”
The King laughed in delight, for he had been very bored indeed. “A wager I will accept!” he shouted, and took the pouch from the young man.

The entire court held its breath, and even the haughty Queen strained to see from her golden chair.
The King opened the pouch, peered inside, and closed it with a gasp, turning very pale indeed.
Quickly recovering, he beckoned to his servants. “Wine for the young man, and sweetmeats! He dines with the King this night! And, when he leaves, he may have his choice of anything that I possess.” :shock:

The youth returned to his mother within the fortnight, bearing elegant robes and sacks of jewels and gold upon the King’s finest horse. He rushed to her and covered her with kisses.
“Mother, mother, it’s wonderful!” he cried. “You were so right! Every stranger I met showed me nothing but kindness. But now you must tell me the secret of the pouch!”
His mother smiled softly. “You did not open the pouch? And you told no man your name? Then you have done well. Open the pouch.”
Flushed and eager, the young man finally opened the pouch. Inside, he found only a small note, sewn upon the lining:

“This messenger is your own true son,
The fruit of that special night so long ago.
Shall we share the glad news with your wife?”

“Mother!” he breathed. “This is the greatest gift of all! Which man was my father?”
“None of them, my son. The magic of the pouch is wisdom. If you must wager, cast your lot on a sure thing–such as human nature. For, as long as there are fools and folly, we may spend the rest of our days in comfort, certain of the kindness of strangers.” :grin:

AND SO IT WAS.