Author: Monica McHenney

Monica lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband and two foster dogs. She taught parents how to raise their toddlers for twenty-five years before retiring in 2015 to write. The secret to toddlers is to make sure you get enough sleep. Monica hasn't found the secret to writing, yet, but is diligently working at it. See links to her on-line stories on the publications page.

Fish Story

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“You threw it back? Then wish us supper.”

To please his sister, the fisherman did exactly that. Voila! A table laden with delicacies appeared.

She sated herself. “Foolish man, we could have had a different life for that wish. Ask for a fine house and all that would sustain us in it.”

“Would that make you happy?”

“You”ll have one wish left if it doesn’t”

Without the posh accent, education, and manners to go with the lifestyle, she was miserable.

Her brother asked the fish for happiness. He was six again. She was five. Valued equally by society, they thrived.

Calaveras Frog Prince and the Three Wishes

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Daisy stood at the starting line and kissed her frog for luck. A long-legged young man arose from the frog’s place and cleared his throat.

“Are you a princess?” Cedric worried he was lost.

“Daddy calls me Princess.”

The jumping contest official told them they’d need to move.

Daisy took Cedric’s hand. “Daddy’ll know what to do.” She pulled him into the chaos of the county fair.

Cedric slipped through her fingers and disappeared into a fortuneteller’s booth. She handed Cedric a tarnished lamp. When he rubbed the dust away, a genie appeared and Cedric found himself in another story.

We’ve Slept Too Long

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Rip woke in a frenzy. What a nightmare he’d had. Befuddled by layers of dust on the furniture, his feet numb with sleep, he left the house. How long had it been?

A trail behind his house led to an overgrown pasture. Where were the cows he kept? And if they were gone, why hadn’t the deer replaced them? He tuned his ears to the sounds of birds and heard nothing. He found the river, now a creek. Sixty years ago, there’d been a spring that gushed from a rock. Now it was silent. Hope’s season had come and gone.

Pussy Crooner

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Pussy was a musical cat. Sometimes the tabby played a lute and others a bagpipe. She yowled at pubs throughout the British Isles that bear the name Cat and Fiddle. Accompanists flocked to back her up. 

Nine long lives she lived and nine again but cats grow old, as do we all. She retired to a barn in Cheshire, then to an old wishing well with one last request: a concert. Johnny Green gathered a band for Pussy’s last show. His father beat him. Said, “A better mouser never was nor will be.”

Pussy had nought but praise. T’was time.

The Shoemaker’s Challenge

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The shop bell tinkled behind the cat as he left the shoemaker pondering what had just happened. The shoemaker’s wife announced supper and when there was no response, she smoothed her hands along her husband’s shoulder. “You seen a ghost, pet?”

He came out of his thoughts. “A talking cat. He left these boots in payment for ones that fit. Think I’ve gone ‘round the bend, Eliza?”

“I did see him. From the window upstairs. Odd, that cat, like a man on two legs.”

“He were real. Measured ‘im meself.”

“Will you make the boots?”

“Said I would, didn’t I?”

Maintenance Request

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From: Housekeeping

To: Maintenance

Re: North Tower

There is a broken spinning wheel in the Queen’s sitting room in the top spire of the tower. Provenance unknown. It materialized without warning in a dim cupboard during routine monthly cleaning. Some surprise! Spider webs, dust, and other detritus hid a malfunctioning spindle. Please fix this at your earliest convenience.

From: Maintenance

To: Housekeeping

Re: Spindle

I have placed your request in the queue. Be advised that all available personnel are busy with preparations for the Princess’s sixteenth birthday ball. I shall wait to schedule repair until afterwards. Thanks for your patience.

Amazon Review: Glass Slippers

Slipper by Worcester Royal Porcelain Co. is licensed under CC-BY 3.0

CinderellaCharming

Reviewed in Lancre, August 29,2022

**** Rating

I received a pair of clear glass slippers as a gift from my Godmother. I worried they would shatter by the end of the first dance, but have been pleased at the sturdy construction that lasted through balls, numerous fittings around the kingdom, and an awesome honeymoon. Great for happily-ever-afters.

I would add two cautions. First, everything shows. Get a pedicure, especially if you clean the house in bare feet. Second, pregnancy can be a problem. Glass slippers have no give, so I can’t wear them now. I’ll save them for my daughter.

Epona

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I’ve been goddessing since the Iron Age. Born in water, manifested on land as horse/seductress, I lured Roman soldiers to their deaths. There’s a coin to prove it.

But Rome won. They couldn’t bury me; too many loyal followers. A demotion to domestic goddess, that’s all they managed. A warrior at heart, I spent centuries in the kitchen baking and plotting, biding my time.

We struck. Me, Ceres, and Demeter took back fertility and reproduction. It’s what they fear about women. The secrets we know about life and death. The patriarchy can try, but they can’t take away our power.

The Real Story Behind Snow White’s Poisoning

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“You’ve got it wrong.” The farmer’s face turned the color of a ripe Gravenstein. “It was magic, not pesticides, poisoned that girl.”

“Now Mr. Darkfruit, our informants have presented credible evidence from underground surveys. There’s run off into their mines.”

“You know, the Queen is my best customer. She wouldn’t like it if you shut me down.”

“I have a warrant to inspect.” The investigator lifted his case full of testing equipment and walked through the open gate into the orchard.

“Nothing will come of this,” said the farmer.

“But it’s my job to enforce the regulations until instructed otherwise.”