Enjoy this new ongoing TF story! This is just the prologue introducing the cast, but some major changes are just around the corner . . .
By FoxFaceStories
When an entire college literature class is transported to a fairy tale world while studying folklore, they soon find themselves living out actual famous fairy tales! But these various friends, groups, and even professors must now contend with the world starting to change them. After all, Puss in Boots wants a wife, the Big Bad Wolf is looking for a mate, and the Goldilocks bears have laid a transformative trap for the next unwelcome visitor to their home . . .
Fairy Tale Transformations
Prologue: The Fairy Tale Book
Professor Styles held up the old, leatherbound text and smiled. “This, students, is a Book of Fairytales and Fables written by an anonymous author, dating back to the early 1700’s. Yes, it is indeed an earlier published work than the famous Grimm’s Fairy Tales, by almost a century or so. It was recovered only last month, having been lost in a large catalogue of museum acquisitions for many decades. Come closer, you can have a look if you like, but as they say, do not touch!”
It was an advanced literature course at Somerset College, and its membership was few; only fifteen students in total, all in their twenties. There was a joke between them that it was a good thing Professor Styles and his assistant Lori Suzumi were so enthusiastic and charismatic when it came to their love of the subject, because the actual practical applications of literary analysis of myths and fables was, to be honest, practically nil. As such, the student body for the course was almost entirely comprised of literature nerds, though there were a couple of creative types and one absolute jock named Spencer Hughes, who was only in the course because he was obsessed with trying to go out with Abigail Edgerton, who was one of the most popular, beautiful, and intelligent girls on campus. She and her best friend, a portly man named Joel Tabbot, practically raced forward to see what the Professor was showing off. They, along with the others of the course, were wowed by the text, which indeed looked several hundred years old, and yet remarkably well-preserved. The illustrations within were deeply intricate, all hand-drawn rather than printed. Every story and fable one could think of seemed to be represented, even fairytales that were previously thought to have been developed after the period in which this text was created.
There was the tale of Puss in Boots, of course, an absolute classic. Red Riding Hood was present, as were the Three Little Pigs and the Big Bad Wolf. Goldilocks and the Three Bears had some remarkable illustrations, and the Princess and the Pea was also present. Other tales from eastern lands were also represented: Aladdin, for instance, as well as some Japanese folklore. But the main meat was, understandably given the book’s Germanic and English origins, in European folklore. Snow White and the Seven Dwarves featured, as did the Little Mermaid, which Hans Christian Anderson must have used as an inspiration for his more famous and darker variant of the tale. The Frog Prince, the Wedding of Miss Fox, Jack and the Bean Stalk, the Golden Goose . . . it seemed to be the ultimate compendium, and Professor Styles allowed each student in turn to examine the text carefully and turn some pages under his guidance.
“Be careful now!” he told the resident goth of the class, a borderline non-speaking young man named Damian. “Make sure to be delicate, Damian.”
Damian sighed and rolled his eyes. No one quite knew why he was in the course, especially since he barely did any work and was mainly on his phone all the time. He seemed to drain the energy of others around him by his sheer dour aura, but Professor Styles never let that get him down.
“Have a look here, Abigail,” he told the beautiful blonde student who was also among the most intelligent in the school. “See the rippling along the edges of the pages here? Notice anything?”
“It looks . . . a lot like a degraded pattern. Was this all hand drawn as well?”
“Wonderfully observed, Abigail! Yes, it was! The entire thing was scribed, despite the Gutenberg press having been around for more than two hundred years by this point. Spencer, stop hiding up the back there. I recall you actually enjoyed the tale of Bluebeard, so I’m sure you’ll get a kick out of these violent illustrations.”
At this, the football jock actually got out of his chair. “Okay, that actually sounds kinda cool.”
“C-can I see, please?”
That came from the biggest nerd of the class; a young man named Norman Otis. He was a short, spindly-looking man in his early twenties, with thick glasses and buck teeth. He had a thick smattering of freckles upon his face, and his red hair was parted down the middle in a very, very unflattering style. Suffice to say, even in a more mature college campus setting, the young man got his fair share of bullying. He approached and looked over the text lovingly. He’d never tell anyone, but he’d always harboured fantasies about fairytales and beautiful princesses, hoping that he might one day meet one who would love him for who he was. He knew it was sad, but it was a private fantasy nonetheless.
“Yes, of course, Norman,” Professor Styles said. “Come and have a look.”
The Professor was excited. He was amazed that he’d managed to get fifteen members of this class this year, since it was a subject that was almost always under the threat of being axed. And yet this incredible find was clearly intriguing to his students, and hopefully that would lead to them recommending the class to others at the end of the year. Peter Styles was a man who was in his forties but had a young, excitable air about him, and this was demonstrated by his dark hair which always had a delightful messy nature that somehow seemed to suit him. He was always adjusting his glasses and his silly bowtie while talking with great enthusiasm about the enormous influence of folklore, fables, and fairytales upon civilisations across the world.
“Lori, can you please pass some of the handouts around to the students? Thank you so much, and thank you for helping with that damned printer this morning.”
Lori, his assistant who was twenty eight years old, had graduated his class several years ago, and became so fascinated with the subject that she was now a member of staff and his ongoing assistant for the course. It was not high-paying work, but the beautiful Asian-American woman was committed to it, and greatly thankful to the Professor for constantly fighting to keep her employed and even trying unsuccessfully to get her a pay raise multiple times. Of course, she couldn’t let him know the truth; she had fallen in love with him years ago, despite the fact that he was nearly fifteen years her senior. His passion, his excitement, and his care towards history and those around him had captured her heart. Others whispered rumours about this; she was always playing with her silky black hair in his presence, and was always by his side at the staff lounge, not to mention that she wore pretty dresses in his presence. But the Professor was many things, and socially inept was one of them. He had never noticed her in that way, and she had resigned herself to the fact that he likely never would.
And so Lori handed out the scanned copies of pages from the fascinating fairy tale book, which had no named author. The students thanked her, except for Damian who was on his phone once again. Spencer Hughes thanked her, but the massive jock put the papers right down without even looking at them. Joel Tabbot, meanwhile, who was an overweight student and Abigail Edgerton’s best friend, was as nice as ever.
“Thank you so much, Miss Suzumi!” he said, taking the papers enthusiastically. “And thank you for helping me with my essay last week. I really appreciate it.”
He was a dark-skinned man with short curly black hair and a magnificent smile. He also deeply adored the subject, but fought for representations of fables from West Africa and converted stories from historical sites of multicultural and racial transfer, such as New Orleans. True to his enthusiastic nature, the Professor had begun adjusting the plans for next semester immediately to satisfy Joel’s own boundless enthusiasm.
“That is quite alright, Joel,” Lori said. “And you can call me Lori. I’m not a professor.”
“Of course, Miss Suzumi!” he replied.
“Suck up,” someone said further along, which caused a bit of a laugh and left Joel blushing. Professor Styles was too wrapped up in showing more students the book, but Lori looked around, trying to see who it was in the small gathering at the front of the lecture theatre. Unfortunately for her, she couldn’t directly say, but she knew in her heart of hearts that it had been Gabriel.
Fucking Gabriel Santos.
He was a handsome Hispanic man with slick black hair and a charismatic smile. He dressed fashionably, and more than a few female students gravitated to him, which confused Spencer Hughes, who felt that all girls should be drawn to jocks instead of what he perceived to be a metrosexual twig of a man. But Gabriel was fit, he was well-styled, and he was confident. He was also intelligent, and scored highly in all his courses. One would think this would make him a more compassionate individual, but instead he preferred to tear down anyone - especially other men - who tried to show passion or interest and yet failed to live up to his own standard of cool. To be sincere and outspoken was a crime in his worldview; better to be suave and reserved and speak only when you had all the answers, or could charm the pants off the ladies.
Lori grit her teeth. Gabriel was flashing her a smile, then went back to talking to Abigail and her other friend Eunika, a gorgeous black girl who had taken the course on a whim but was currently acing it. She really hated Gabriel, and wished Peter Styles would see the monster that kid really was.
But now was not the time. Nerdy Norman was poring over the pages with Joel, and both were speaking enthusiastically and getting more eyerolls from Gabriel. Spencer was guffawing at some of the illustrations, which showed bare-breasted women, an attitude that pointedly failed to impress Abigail Edgerton, who he was trying to pursue. Instead, the beautiful blonde chatted with Eunika and the Professor, discussing her theories on how this text came to be. Damian, meanwhile, was checked out and on his phone again. The other students were a motley mix, the remainder of them mostly male, such as George Eustace, who was perhaps the most anxious person in any room ever. His mother had pressured him to go to college, but every day brought him panic attacks, and he’d chosen this course purely because of its low numbers. But now everyone was discussing theory and history and it was all too much; he shrank to the back of the group and stared at the floor.
Which meant he almost missed what happened next. It was Carter Priestley who noticed it. He was a mature-aged student in his fifties, making him the oldest person in the room funnily enough. He had a habit of trying to be useful and getting along with the younger folks, to mixed results. The girls had adopted him - Eunika especially since she was such a maternal soul who wanted everyone to get along - but the boys largely shunned him. But he noticed something that was nearly missed by all.
“Excuse me!” he said, raising his hand. Gabriel scoffed at this, and murmured something to Spencer that made the jock laugh.
“Of course, Carter,” Professor Styles said. “And you don’t need to raise your hand. You’re the most senior person here, so you can very well speak aloud when you want as far as I’m concerned!"
Carter nodded enthusiastically. He had grey-white hair and a broad figure, and he’d made it clear he was a permanent student who just loved learning new things. “It’s just . . . I think that first page is fused. It’s actually two pages.”
The Professor frowned, and Lori moved to his side, first as an excuse to get close to him and second to see what he was looking at.
“I don’t see how you can say that, Mr Priestley,” he replied. “Very technical people have gone over this. It seems to just be a thicker page to me.”
“I thought so at first, too,” the mature age student said. “But I used to make glue with my father back in the day. Used to be made of animal products, you know. Horse bones, hooves, all that. People wanted to get authentic old-style glue from us when they had antiques. The full hog, you could say, when it came to keeping things all, well, accurate I guess. Anyway, we also had to develop solvents, because some of these really old books would have these secret pages near the start where the edgings were formed.”
The Professor blinked. “Secret pages?”
“Oh yes!” Carter said. “Usually for secrets, or funny jokes, or little dedications and the like. I always keep some on me. I can show you if you’d like.”
Lori and Peter shared an uncertain look, but a secret excitement was building. Norman was already rocking on his heels, the nerdy boy hoping this would proceed.
“This is awesome,” he whispered.
“So awesome,” Joel replied. “Right, Abby?””
The buxom blonde clapped a little. “Please, Professor, can we try?”
“It won’t damage the pages. I can dab a bit on the corner,” Carter said. “Just to see if it is two pages.”
“Do it already!” Spencer called.
“Something exciting at least,” Damian added, before returning to his texting.
Well, that was enough pressure from his students. In truth, Professor Styles was already excited enough, but the prospect of a discovery of something even more hidden than this already important text was filling him with a fiery enthusiasm.
“Well, let’s see inside, shall we?”
Gabriel shoved his way to the front beside Eunika and Abigail, nearly tripping over Norman and nervous George in the process. He wanted to be at the forefront of this, and perhaps even write a paper on it to help his academic score and out-compete the rivals around him.
Everyone watched with bated breath as Carter retrieved a little tube of home-made solvent from his coat. The grey-haired older man kept looking to the others for approval, and in response Eunika actually touched his arm rather comfortingly and gave him a cheery grin.
“Go for it, Carter. We believe in you.”
Her maternal kindness gave the older man the confidence to keep his hand steady. He managed to get a single droplet of his solvent onto the corners of the thick page. With a pair of tweezers, the Professor tapped where the solvent was spreading.
And two pages came apart, revealing new writing.
“Oh my God,” Peter said, his smile so wide it could blot out all the miseries on earth. Lori found herself looking at him, falling in love with him even more than she already was, if that was even possible. “Lori, are you seeing this?”
“I am, Peter,” she murmured, adjusting her own glasses. “I mean, yes Pete. I mean, yes Professor.”
Slowly, the pages were peeled back to reveal writing. The left page was written in a neat, flowing German. The right hand was the English translation. Professor Styles actually gasped, his foot tapping upon the ground. Abigail was almost bouncing on her feet, while Eunika calmed her friend patiently by putting a hand around her waist. Joel waited with bated breath, even as the heavyset man was pushed out of the way by Spencer and Gabriel, both of whom wanted to impress the girls present. Norm couldn’t even get a look at the text, and so started fidgeting between anxious George and the other, less prominent students. Damian pretended not to be interested, displaying his usual gothic air, but even he couldn’t help but look over at the circle in interest. Meanwhile, Carter peels the pages fully apart with the Professor’s help, the solvent having done its work without leaving a mark, just as the mature age student had said it would.
“Mr Priestley,” Professor Styles told, clasping the man on the back. “You are a genius! Trust me when I say that when this further discovery is mentioned in the forthcoming journals, you will be given first mention. And don’t worry Abigail and Norman, Gabriel and Joe, and all the rest of you. Everyone in this room will be mentioned as co-discoverers, not least of all our wonderful Miss Suzumi here also.
The Asian-American woman blushed, biting her lip to prevent herself from smiling too obviously at the Professor’s words, though her heart was already leaping.
“Well, Professor,” she said. “What does it say?”
Peter Styles grinned, holding up the tome to see it better. “Well, shall I read it? Or shall Mr Priestly have the honours?”
“Oh no,” the older man said. “You’re the Professor. I just noticed something. You go right on ahead.”
“Yes, you do it, Professor!” Abigail said, grinning her beautiful smile.
“Abby’s right,” Joel added.
“This could be something huge,” Norman said, his reedy voice pitching over the rest of the group.
Peter chuckled. “Oh, I don’t know about that. Perhaps just an amusing private message or hidden dedication. Okay, we’ll proceed then, shall we?”
“YES!” came the group’s cry, and Damian was shocked to realise that he was among their voices. Lori too; she usually tried to be more reserved, but her excitement was overwhelming by this point.
“Very well. Ahem. The message is as follows: This tome is dedicated to those delightful fae who exist upon the other side, whose realm I had the pleasure of viewing so many years ago. None shall believe me when I write this, so to avoid the asylums I shall scribe just this one copy and leave this message hidden for someone to find after I have departed this mortal coil, as the English bard put it over a century ago.
“When I was but a young man, I passed through a thin space between worlds in the forest to the south of my father’s estate. I was witness to a land of true myths and fables come to life, and it begged of me the philosophical conundrum of whether we had created the fairy tales and thusly populated this other realm with this, as if it were a land conjured forth from human imagination, or if this world had always existed in its present state, with its present occupants, and the fables, myths, and fairy tales of our world are simply recreations of them that have rippled out through echoes between the veil that divides us, and come to inhabit the minds of men.
“Whatever is true, I was witness to remarkable tales come to life. Three Little Pigs evading the terrifying sight of the Big Bad Wolf. A beautiful princess hiding in the skin of an ass in order to escape detection. A goose that truly did lay eggs of gold. It was this last sight that provided me the wealth to save my father’s estate from financial ruin due to his faulty investments, though in truth I know he never believed my tale upon my return. Still, I knew that one day there would be others who would wish to find this fairy tale land. The thin space was something to be studied, and indeed the growing Enlightenment philosophy that began to swell all around me helped provide the language of natural philosophy and reason to guide my experimentations.
This book is made from the very overlapping trees that formed the Thin Space to this fairy tale land. Its ink was taken from the other side, from the same inkwell used to write the documents that fooled Rumpelstilkskin. And now, below, the reader may observe and read the following statement, which shall allow one to see the Land of Fairy Tales personally. I shall read it now, right after closing this book. If I am to disappear, know then that I was successful, and am happy in a place of greater magic and possibility. If I have not disappeared, then perhaps I was equally successful, and simply found a way back. I know not if this latter option is truly possible, but I am older now, and ready for one last adventure back to the magic of my youth. And so, dear reader of this rather cramped page of what may seem like maddened ramblings to you. If you dare to join me, you may simply find my hidden words and say the following:
Once Upon a Time, A Reader Found a Fairytale Land. He Did Not Cry Wolf, but Instead He Huffed and He Puffed Until He Blew the Veil Between Worlds Down!”
It was the end of the message, and it derived a mix of amusement, disappointment, and just plain confusion from the group. Professor Styles clenched his eyes shut, as if almost worried something was about to happen. When it didn’t, he blushed a little and looked to Lori, who giggled despite her normally professional demeanour.
“Well, that’s certainly quite something, isn’t it?” he said.
“What a total waste of time,” Gabriel grouched. “And here I thought it would be important!”
“It’s very important, it tells us about the author,” Joel said.
“Sure thing, big guy. And we don’t know who the author is, moron.”
“Settle,” the Professor said, and Gabriel backed down, though perhaps more because Abigail looked like she was ready to back up her male friend, and the handsome Hispanic man had plans to bed her before Spencer could.
But it was Norman Otis who approached the book, now resting on the speaker’s lectern after the Professor had put it down, and proceeded to notice something important.
“Um, Professor?” he said in his reedy voice, one that almost sounded as nervous as George Eustace’s. “Professor? Miss Suzumi? Professor?”
It was Eunika who noticed him, and who spoke up in her usual supportive way.
“Professor! I think Norman might have noticed something here!”
The attention swung finally to Norman, who was so short he almost had to go on his toes to see the book on the lectern. He reached out a finger and pointed at the last part of writing on the text.
“Yes?” the Professor said.
“I think you didn’t say this bit. Um, technically, I mean.”
The Professor smirked, finding this not quite up to the standards of Norman’s usual intellectual contributions, but he didn’t know that the young nerdy man was already hoping against hope that his fantasies of meeting a beautiful fantasy princess could actually come true. Gabriel scoffed at him, and Spencer found this suggestion amusing, but Damian leaned forward from the background, evidently hopeful that something might happen if the Professor read the entire section properly.
“Very well, last time, students,” he said, taking the book up again. “Of course, we know magic and myth isn’t real, but in the interests of discussing proper primary source use, I shall complete the statement. Ahem. The End. There, now perhaps this excerpt might tell us more about the author and his-”
The Professor never got to finish his sentence, because suddenly a blinding light flashed, warm and brilliant and powerful, seeping through their very forms instantaneously, which informed the entire class that this was no ordinary bright flash. There was barely a squeal from Abigail, a suspended gasp from Joel, and the beginnings of a fearful cry from Lori, and suddenly the effect had gone as quickly as it had come, throwing the entire listening and watching cohort out of this dimension and into another one. The flash ended, and the room was left empty, so that the scanned paper readouts of the Fairy Tale Tome were not left behind. To anyone who would enter the lecture theatre after this point, they would see the theatre not only to be empty, but would have no true notion that anybody had ever been there. The entire class, professor and assistant and students and all, had simply . . . vanished.
But in reality, they were already elsewhere, in a land of fairy tales.
To Be Continued . . .