Isabelle Rose's Twisted Fairy Tale Anthology will include short stories from some of today's newest and hottest authors, all based on classic Fairy Tales, but twisted beyond your imagination!

Keep an eye on this space for updates, authors to be included, release information, and OH! Soooo much more!

www.myspace.com/tftanthology

Many thanks for Jennifer Miller for the awesome Myspace page. If anything none of this would've been possible without her.

Anticipation by ~WearyOne on deviantART

Note: It's been a while since I've posted anything in regards to my writing or poetry. So even if this sucks I still want to try and get back into the swing of things. Seriously...before my brain completely gets stupified. Plus...I'm running out of things to do. Anyway I hope you enjoy this poem.

Green

Blinded by the color.

I needed to have it inside of me.

A blinding hunger that

threatened everything around me.

I knew it was the child growing inside

of me that caused me to have such a need.

My neighbor, the witch…

for that’s what she was,

no warts,

no gray hair,

or claw-like nails trying to catch spiders at night.

In fact she was quite the opposite of all of those things.

Beautiful,

radiant red hair that cascaded

into numerous curls all the way down her back,

and bright green eyes that saw everything

and nothing all at once.

My husband and I had no money,

my hunger quickly became an obsession.

I needed greens.

I didn’t care what kind,

so long as I could eat something with that color.

Emerald,

jade,

pine,

forest green,

lemon,

lime,

or sea green,

I didn’t care.

I simply didn’t care.

But without money,

my husband couldn’t give me what I wanted,

until one day I peeked into the witch’s garden.

It was a kind of paradise.

Beans, parsley, lettuce, and radishes.

Everything that I wanted was right next to me,

ripe for the picking. 

I pleaded with my husband to go next door

and get me some greens.

Three times he said ‘No’.

Four times I begged.

The fourth time I asked he caved.

That night he snuck into the witch’s garden

and picked everything he could get his hands on.

But when he came back home,

he was white like a ghost,

as though he had just seen Death himself.

What happened? I asked as I took the sack from

his trembling hands and ate a radish

as though he had just given me a piece of chocolate.

The witch caught me, he whispered.

Did you offer to pay for the things you took? I asked between bites.

Yes, he replied.

And?

She wants the child that grows in your womb, he said.

My heart stopped beating at that moment

and I threw up the radish I had just eaten.

What would she possibly want with my child? I wondered.

* * * *

The stories say

that I did nothing to prevent this from happening,

that I stood by idly

and let the witch lock up

my daughter up in a tower.

That I died shortly afterwards.

And they are right…partially anyway.

I had a little girl with a glorious

crown of blond hair.

She looked as though

the sun had risen above her soft head.

But it was my poor husband that died of grief.

I swore revenge as I clutched

my dear husband’s cold hands.

I would have my revenge.

One day I followed the witch deep into the woods

and watched as she built the stony,

gray tower, it was as though she wanted it to reach the heavens.

She wanted no one to touch Rapunzel,

it was the name she gave my daughter.

Not one I would’ve chosen for her,

but that was out of my hands now.

I wouldn’t be able to raise her, but I would

become the thorn on the witch’s side.

I waited until Rapunzel was old enough to

know the difference between freedom and confinement.

Until she was old enough to

stretch her tiny wings and fly away.

And when that day finally came I found him.

He was lost in the woods,

it was I who lead the prince to the tower.

It was I who whispered into his ear

of Rapunzel’s beauty and sweet voice.

And when the witch pushed him off the tower,

his foolish mistake, not mine.

I lead him back to Rapunzel who had been cast

off into a far off desert.

I was never a bad mother,

I was far too young to know that there was a

difference between actual hunger

and desire for that which you cannot have.

And as I faded off into the forest,

I thought about what it cost me.

A husband,

a daughter,

a life.

http://www.lulu.com/content/4750951

With this new collection of short stories, author Isabelle Rose explores the connection between colors and emotions. From mythical gods and creatures, to typical everyday situations. Each tale unique in its own way, but all of them connected by various characters. A writer trying to find her muse (literally). A young woman trying to flee an abusive relationship. And a cashier getting lost in the woods and finding more than she had ever bargained for. In The Jackets you will find an interesting blend of fiction and fantasy. There's no way of knowing what will happen next.

Though this is not the typical romance I would normally read, it was by far one of the more unique books I have reviewed. The characters of Morgan and Elizabeth are well defined and are not lacking in spirit. Ms. Rose has used the character of Elizabeth Bathory very well. She chose her vampire from the very pages of history which makes it a much more interesting read. I was not interested in the love scenes, though they are well written and truly descriptive. If you like lesbian romance with a twist of the paranormal, this is the book for you.

Warning: Strong, detailed female/female love scenes.

Liadan
Reviewer for Coffee Time Romance
Reviewer for Karen Find Out About New Books
 

Daphne and Apollo by *Trixis on deviantART
 

www.cacoethespublishing.net
http://www.freewebs.com/isabellerose23
http://www.myspace.com/isabellerose23

 

Under the Moonlight

Horror | Current | August 2008

Author: Isabelle Rose

All night she dreamt of blood. The crackle and crunch of bones made her uneasy.

Morgan gasped and kicked until she was awake. Her head throbbed. She smelled like sweat and fear and there was something stuck between her teeth. She pried at it unsuccessfully with her fingernails. Frustrated, she threw the sheets aside and ran into the bathroom. She grabbed a bit of dental floss. The thin piece of white string slid back and forth. Morgan let out a sigh of relief when she felt whatever it was come loose.She felt large piece of skin between her thumb and index finger. Only it had…ridges. She frowned.

Probably a piece of chicken from yesterday’s lunch.

 

That’s strange.

Read more...