The Fairy Godfather: Excerpt of an Idea that Still Needs Work

I'm likely not going to use these specific scenes, but then again with a bit of tweaking I might find it useful enough in the plot at some point. This was mainly an exercise to develop each character's voice and deciding on what point of view I wanted to write in. I haven't quite decided, but I think I settled on the voices at least. Considering on how much I like this, this post might get taken down so I don't get paranoid of someone stealing my idea, hahaha.

And, as per my usual (though I may or may not have made it apparent before) the story is pretty dark. I really like it though, and I've actually done more planning on this plot than I've ever done with any other plot, so it's an interesting change.

Working title: “The Fairy Godfather”

General idea/synopsis (this also needs a bit of rephrasing): Villains don't get ‘happily ever afters,’ or fairy godmothers to help them get one, except in the case of Derrick and Hemlock. It's probably a good thing Hemlock is a godfather, not a godmother.

Derrick stood hovering around the solid wooden door to his cell, staring at the floor as he trained his ears to the sound of fading footsteps muffled in the space behind the door. He kept still, wanting to ensure the were no sounds of the guards passing by his cell, counting to twelve in his head as soon as complete silence started.

Perfect. Now or never.

“Today is your lucky day, for I am your— Hey, put that dagger down!”

Derrick flinched from the sudden intrusion of his privacy and his hands jerked, causing the tip of the dagger he was holding to dig into the skin of his chest. The twinge of pain made him involuntarily drop the dagger and hold the offending wound. The steel weapon clattered against the masonry under his feet. He pulled his hand away to see a smudge of blood on his palm.

Derrick gritted his teeth and glared at whoever snuck into his cell without him noticing.

It was a man, frail and lanky in build, someone Derrick didn't recognize. Given the man's rather plain appearance, Derrick decided he was probably one of the servants of the castle who didn't know any better.

"Get out," Derrick commanded.

The man scowled at him and crossed his arms, but ignored him as he continued with an unamused voice, "My name is Hemlock. I'm your fairy godfather and I'm here to ensure you have a 'happily ever after.'" Hemlock added air quotes for emphasis.

Derrick stared.

Then he laughed, the sound hollow and pathetic to his ears.

He grabbed the dagger from the ground and threw it at the man with a grunt of effort. The man sidestepped out of the way, letting the blade sail past and impact the wall behind him.

"Too late for that," Derrick said. "Now get out unless you want the kingdom to frame you for murder." He winced as he limped over to the dagger to retrieve it.

Hemlock's foot stepped on the dagger and kicked it out of reach from him to the other end of the cell.

"Hm, and moments ago it seemed like you wanted to kill me," Hemlock pointed out. "But no, now you're worried for my wellbeing, my man. Pick one."

Derrick clenched his fists as he straightened. "You should be more careful when you speak to me like that. If you knew who I am and why I've been locked in this prison, you'd know very well what I'd choose."

"Actually, no. I don't. Ring of the Fairies sentenced me to community service. Didn't tell me who I'd be working for, but just told me to make sure they get a happy ending and then I'd be a free fairy, then they banished me here. So what do you want? Clothes? Finding your true love? Having your own family? Fame for marrying into royalty? Become a real boy? Maybe all of them?"

Derrick had enough. Hemlock was just mocking him at this point. The existence of fairies was debatable, but if Hemlock took him as one of those miserable peasants who'd believe anything just to not give up their useless hopes and dreams, he was mistaken. He was not going to let his family have the last say by making him live until his final sentencing. That at least was in his control, especially now that he had the means to do it.

If the strange man was so set on staying in the same room with him as Derrick went through with this, then he was accepting of whatever consequences would arise.

He rushed to the weapon in the corner of his cell, ignoring the screams of protests in his aching body. He dove for the dagger just as Hemlock went to grab at him, the handle finally in his grasp. He steeled himself as he went to jab the blade into the center of his chest, eyes clenched and his mind a swirl of emotional chaos.

No, no. He was not going back on this. He could hear the cacophony of prison guards coming for him, likely hearing the commotion in his cell. Panic at the thought that they would stop him in time and the continued torture and humiliation and increased security should he fail—

Now or never.

He made his move.

The weapon grew lighter and he heard a rustle of leaves. He opened his eyes to see the dagger was now a bouquet of flowers bending harmlessly against his chest. His attention turned to Hemlock, who had a slender, pearl-white rod pointed at the flowers.

A wand.

Hmph, so Hemlock was a fairy.

Derrick and Hemlock exchanged dirty looks.

The footsteps outside the cell grew louder. Hemlock waved circles around himself with the wand and disappeared from view just as the cell door slammed open, three guards spilling in with their hands readied for their swords in their scabbards. They looked to Derrick, frowning at the flowers in his hands.

"Was someone in here?" one of them asked.

Nonchalant, Derrick shrugged instead of answering the question and said, "They left me flowers."

Another of the guards approached and pulled him off the floor by his upper arm, yanking the flowers out of his hands and inspecting them, then he handed them to the the third guard.

The third guard spoke up, "Tell the king that there was an unscheduled visitor and that any suspicious sympathizers to the prince seen tomorrow should be brought in and questioned. Increase the number of guards for the rounds tonight."

The other guards nodded and left the cell, taking the bouquet with them.

After the rattle of the lock sliding into place and the patter of footsteps faded in the distance, Derrick was back to the nighttime silence in the cell. He pulled his knees to his chest, his bruises reminding him of the public humiliation earlier in the day. A burning pain radiated from his chest.

He almost forgot about the small dagger wound. A quick dab of his fingers against the cut, and he saw that it had stopped bleeding.


Derrick stared at the moonlight that filtered in through the single barred window of his cell, tiny motes of dust catching on the faint beams and swirling from the minute breeze of autumn that managed their way inside. The dust motes grew more dense and the glowing increased, the swirling now a violent circling under the moonlight.

Soundlessly, Hemlock reappeared within the glittering dust, clearly displeased.

"You're making my job more difficult," Hemlock said.

Derrick covered his face with his hands. He wasn’t in the mood for this.

“What do you want, Hemlock?” Derrick asked.

Hemlock said, his voice low to not alert the guards, "I want my freedom back, and in order for me to do that is ensure you get a 'happily ever after,' whatever that means. Once they deem my work finished, I can get out of your hair."

"So, to put it simply, you make me happy, you leave?"


"Hah. I've be deemed a villain and villains don't get 'happily ever afters'. They get vanquished in the end."

Hemlock regarded Derrick for a long minute, his jaw set askew. Hemlock said to the air above him, "Well that's just lovely. Here I was hoping I'd get some miserable lad or lass and get do my time, but no, I'm stuck here forever!" He huffed and turned to Derrick again, "So what're you in for? Maybe you aren't as bad as everyone thinks you are?"

"I summoned a dragon to destroy a neighboring kingdom so that I'd be king of that place. Instead, the dragon was slain by some plucky knight and now my sister's going to marry him as a reward."


A beat.

"Well… Good on that guy, at least?" Hemlock said.


Popular posts from this blog

Word Count Wednesday - 7 November 2018

Letters from Past-Me to Future-Me

In Between