Rain
A Beyond Fairytales story
By
Taryn Kincaid
A dystopian retelling of Sleeping Beauty
Sleeping Beauty in a post-apocalyptic land…
In a world
gone mad, where little remains but a vast wasteland of sand, the leader of a
troop of roving warriors welcomes a brave young woman into his midst.
Much as he
burns for her, Major Clay Worthington swears to keep his distance from the
mysterious woman, so sensitive even the stinging rain can wound her.
Rosina
Brierly is besotted with the formidable soldier and will gladly trade her life
for one torrid night of blissful passion in his arms.
But
when sleep overcomes them, will true love prevail?
Excerpt:
Does the major ever feel lust?
Does he covet a woman’s touch?
He never
gave any sign he did. Too aloof and austere, too remote from the simple
emotions of mere mortal men.
He shook her again. “Wake up,
princess. The rain will come soon.”
The men looked forward to the
rain. They hated the relentless sun blasting
down upon them, as if they thought it would incinerate what was left of the earth beneath their boots, baking the
soft sand into badlands as hard as concrete.
They’d strip
off their T-shirts and boots, their combat fatigues, and sometimes even their camouflage boxer shorts, and dance and
play, naked or nearly so, in the
slanting gray soup, laughing, tossing round balls or throwing saucer-shaped plastic discs to each other.
For her, the showers had the
opposite effect. The stinging rain sliced into
her sensitive skin like acid, raising blisters and sores, sometimes
bloodying her.
She did not know why the major
called her princess. Perhaps he didn’t
know either. Whatever royalty once walked the earth had long gone, fled underground or died in battle or simply
disappeared. The war engulfed every human on
the planet, every inch of land, and had waged so long she doubted anyone remembered anymore. Well, maybe
Nicodemus. At least he sometimes hinted he
did in the stories he told. And she had seen him whisper into the major’s ear, unknown things that made the major
pale beneath his weathered tan.
Major Worthington did not treat
her like a princess, though, except when she
slumbered, when he knelt before her in her fantasy world, his head bowed, his fist over
his heart, laying his sword at her feet and claiming the role of knight. Her hero. Her champion. When she awoke,
he remained one of the elite warrior breed
roaming the planet, bristling with weapons like the soldiers he led. He treated her as the translator she was to him,
sometimes barking orders to her as if she were
one of his men, only occasionally seeking her
counsel.
She came fully awake as he jerked
her up from the ground and yanked her
toward him. The glare of the setting sun broadsided her, hurting her eyes. Why was he so insistent about the
impending rain? No clouds yet darkened the
sky, although the hour sped toward evening dusk now. But no hint of
shadow yet blotted the horizon.
“I can smell it,” he muttered, in
answer to her unspoken question.
Coming June 2 from
Decadent Publishing
