RUMPELSTILTSKIN

Grayson

12 Missed calls

Grayson, the PR manager, seemed to be hot on his trail. Keyne did not care; old frog was always telling him what to do. Instead he glowered at the screen and shoved the mobile in his pocket.

Today nothing would stop him. The phone continued to vibrate but his thoughts were far removed from his political campaign and focused on his college sweetheart.

Cynthia – he was clueless how he survived not seeing her for so long. She was a storm that turned everything upside down and had him burning with desire. Theirs had been a whirlwind of an affair.

Then one day she was gone as swiftly as she came.

Even after two years her voice was enough to rekindle his longing. He could not let his resentment over her abrupt departure snatch his chance at seeing her again.

1 New message: You're in danger!

‘Different,’ he thought as he swept her into a brief hug, ‘still same.’ Her embrace was just as comforting as he remembered; her smile just as lovely though her eyes were cold.

They strolled down the lane for the old times' sake. The park was closed and drowned in silence, but the amber streetlights blinked friendly, throwing dancing shadows upon their tracks. It created an illusion of a world occupying just the two of them. Talking of her sudden departure Cynthia's fingers twitched in his. He nodded with understanding at the troubles back at her home and relished the knowledge that she too wanted to rekindle their romance. Yet he noticed her dark circles, shifting gaze and the clamminess of her palms.    

He stroked her cheek with his thumb stopping her in midsentence.

“Are you alright?” He mused aloud. He couldn’t explain what was bothering him, but he was sure she understood. Her eyes brimmed with tears after a moment.

“Do you remember the song that we danced for the first time?” She asked him.

He told her he did, after all how could he forget the song he danced to with the love of his life. It was also his sister’s favourite song; he told her with a chuckle.

“Put a happy ending there and it’ll write itself, I swear...” he crooned as unmusical as he ever was and grinned at her. “I’m still sure that’s the best idea I’ve ever had!”

“I’m so sorry Keyne…” her voice trailed off and he turned around to see why she had not followed.

A gunshot startled the silence.

*

“I got an idea for a movie” said the paper inside the bottle. Cynthia felt her insides churning as she eyed the empty pram in the park where she had left her baby napping. The police was clueless. They asked her to wait and see if the kidnapper demands ransom.

He had already. She clutched the paper in her hand and nodded stiffly before walking towards the small apartment where she lived with her baby; leaving the empty bottle on the ground beside the pram.

She was a fool to think she could cut ties with the devil after selling her soul. But it was an irresistible offer to a naïve young waitress, who had been scrimping to save enough for college.

“Cynthia sounds like Cinderella,” a humorless chuckle accompanied the words. “So Cinderella shall I make you a princess?”  A simple agreement; he would sponsor her education and she would do anything he asked.

Meeting Keyne and dancing with him was easy and arranging a schedule that often matched his barely needed an effort. She felt like a real princess for a short while as they stumbled in love.

“I got an idea for a movie,” the stranger cooed whenever they spoke.

Keyne was planning a surprise proposal on their graduation night, her return surprise was the news she could hardly wait to share. She was pregnant! But, the stranger who started it had one last command.

“Kill him,” he said and she refused. “Cinderella,” he clicked his tongue. “You should know there would be a catch, I’m no fairy godmother I’m Rumpelstiltskin”

She had run like Cinderella and Rumpelstiltskin stole her firstborn.

*

“Is it too soon to whisper Oscar…” Nelly sang with the radio going to witness her brother’s doom. Stepbrother, she corrected herself.

‘She was supposed to meet Keyne but he had disappeared leaving her locked out. She had no idea where he went and would still be waiting if not for Grayson’s call.’

'Babies were time consuming' she sighed thinking of her excuse over the phone. As confirmation she had indeed locked herself out of their shared house. Keyne could never tell Grayson she had lied. Stories were her obsession; even revenge had to be dramatic. This thread could never be traced back to her.

Who would think behind Rumpelstiltskin was the woman her family always overlooked, waiting for the downfall of their prestigious son?

She parked the car away from the crowd and messed up her hair and makeup. It was a disheveled sister who rushed to the authorities.

“Tell me you caught that witch!” She begged the officer. “I could kill her with my bare hands!”

When a surprised Grayson asked her how she knew it was a woman, her heart skipped a beat. “Only Cynthia could make him so reckless!”

“And how did you find this place?” Grayson asked her. Nelly raked her brains, ‘she must have been given the location!’

“Stop the act Nell.”

‘So he knew’. She laughed. But he had failed to stop her revenge.

“Wasn’t it a good story?”

“No,” he said. “It had not been ever since your antagonist contacted me.”

She missed a beat before smirking. Even if Cynthia had betrayed her, the sniper she planted would not.

“Instead of Keyne, Cynthia shot your assassin.”

“That’s right Nell,” said Keyne, who emerged from the shadows, very much alive, followed by a puffy eyed Cynthia holding his hand. “You have all night left to tell us where our baby is.”

*