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The Princess in the Storm

Spark Flash Fiction has just published "The Princess in the Storm", my retelling of "The Princess and the Pea" in their Spring 2024 issue. "The Princess and the Pea" is a story that I've always loved for its retelling potential, and I'm so glad that I've at last managed to write a satisfying retelling of it. I had a lot of fun with these characters and this story in a very short space, and I hope you enjoy You can read the story here , and if you care to, you can vote for my story as your favorite, and get me the chance to win an Amazon gift card.

Beneath the Surface: A Retelling of The Frog Prince

  If I’d had any choice, I never would have taken the underground train. I had accompanied Roger to a political summit in the city of Roshen, but spouses leave after the opening speeches, and since I couldn’t leave Roger without the hovercar, I had to use public transportation. The train--built by the natives decades before humanity absorbed Arateph into the Interplanetary Coalition--was a horrible excuse for technology. It rattled me to my destination, jolted me into an underground station, and left me so shaken that I could feel my bones clattering as I climbed up the stairs to the street.  The crowd surged around me as I emerged onto the sidewalk. There were far too many tephans. You know what Arateph’s natives look like—almost like humans, but it’s an unsettling almost. Their eyes just slightly too high on their heads, their ears just slightly too far back, and hands (ugh) split into only three fingers and a thumb. Like a person shaped by a sculptor with a hazy memory of h...

More Than All the Gems of Earth: A Retelling of Diamonds and Toads

My mother beats me black and blue while I cast diamonds at her feet. The gems fall from my lips with every apology and plea for mercy, and they scatter across the rough-hewn floor like bits of broken glass. My mother would crush them if she could, and she hates them all the more because she cannot destroy them. The vipers from my sister’s lips slither among the diamonds, cold-blooded creatures born of poison words. “You did this!” Mother screams, twisting my arm in her iron grip. “You spiteful little wretch! You’ll pay for this!” It has always been this way–my sister makes the mistakes and I am punished for them. Olive’s task had not been difficult. She had only to walk to the well and give a drink to the old woman who asked. A mere moment of kindness. Yet Olive failed to give even that, and received toads and vipers as her reward. “I’m sorry!” I cry, and I am. It’s a frightening punishment, even for someone as cruel as my sister. I pity her more than I ever have. Olive ha...