Enjoy this fairy-tale inspired short story, which I wrote for Elegant Literature (October 2023). This magazine features upcoming authors in all genres, challenging them with a prompt each month. The story below had to feature a skull and a theme of madness and monsters. I took inspiration from several older fairy tales, including Bearskin and Snow-White and Rose-Red by the Brothers Grimm. Hope you like it!
Rosalyn and Eirwen ruled the woods as only two wild sisters born in the countryside can.
From the moment they could walk, they tromped the deer trails and splashed through the creek and flipped rocks in search of treasures like slugs and insects. Eirwen was quietly curious, observant and in awe of all she saw, and Rosalyn was aggressive, pushing their familiar territory’s boundaries further each day.
The girls grew beautiful, with Rosalyn bearing the crimson-streaked browns of their father, and Eirwen bearing the fairness of their widow mother. They grew tall and strong, comfortable in the darkness of the woods and wary of strangers.
That is, until one day they encountered a creature unlike any they had formerly seen.
“What’s he doing?” whispered Eirwen as the duo peeked over the bluff.
“He’s panning for gold,” Rosalyn whispered. “But he doesn’t realize the river bottom drops away right there—Oh, there he goes!”
They watched as the stout man yelped, flinging gravel in all directions as he slipped, and promptly disappeared underwater.
“Oh dear, well perhaps he can swim,” said Rosalyn hopefully. Her smile faltered when the bearded man didn’t come up. “And perhaps he can’t.”
They leapt from their hiding spot and rushed in, with Rosalyn diving into the deep pool ahead of her sister. Frantically they searched, bumping into each other several times before finding him, flailing underwater where he had caught his beard on a submerged tree.
Without hesitation, Rosalyn drew her dagger and cut the man’s beard, and the girls dragged him to shore. The stout man sputtered. At first Rosalyn thought he sputtered because he had nearly drowned, but instead he began to curse at them in a heavy accent.
“My beard, my precious beard. Do you know what you’ve done? I can’t return home like this, half-shaved and empty-handed.” He smacked his forehead. “My pan. Did you lose it?”
“You lost it, sir.” Rosalyn crossed her arms.
The surly creature glared at her, all thick beard and broad nose and heavy brow, which he drew together in a scowl. “That was hardly my fault.”
“You’re the one that stepped into the deep spot,” said Eirwen softly, blushing. “Are you a dwarf?”
“Obviously,” he spat. He crossed his muscular arms, his rump still in the mud where they had dragged him. “And that was my gold.”
“That was the forest’s gold,” Rosalyn replied. “Perhaps she didn’t feel like giving it to someone rude as you.”
“I worked for it.” He huffed.
“Oh look, I think I see it in the reeds there,” said Eirwen, pointing.
Cockeyed with the current pushing it against the reeds, the pan glistened with precious stones intermixed with cobble, and all three gasped in relief.
The dwarf began to stand. “And anyway, you don’t realize how hard a dwarf has to—” He paused, his eyes widening at something across the river.
A deafening roar shattered the peace of the woods, and a massive bear stood on its hind legs.
The dwarf shrieked, but instead of running, he leapt for his gold. The bear splashed into the river at the same time, and they met in the current. The bear swatted the dwarf away, sending the smaller-statured man flying. Both growled at each other, but eventually the dwarf retreated with another round of curses. Bleeding, he ran.
Gripping the gold-filled pan in his mouth, the beast lumbered over to Rosalyn and Eirwen and placed the pan at their feet, then shook himself. Water flew everywhere from his tawny fur, and he gazed at them with intelligent chestnut eyes.
Eirwen’s mouth dropped open at the gold. “Are you saying this is for us, Master Bear? This is more than we need in a year.”
Rosalyn glanced around for the dwarf, but the grumpy, greedy creature was gone. “Is this a gift from the forest, Master Bear? Very well, then. I suppose we could take it.”
The two young women tentatively gathered each shining chunk into a purse, the bear watching them intently all the while, and turned toward home. The bear followed.
And when they entered their cottage, where their lovely mother was cooking supper, the bear followed. Eirwen noticed first, restraining her surprise with a muffled gasp, and then Rosalyn grimaced. She held up a palm.
“This is our home, Master Bear. I thank you for your gift of gold, but a bear is a bit much for a cottage.”
To everyone’s dismay, the bear spoke. “I have more to give, and I desire only your company. The forest is a lonely place.” He turned his soulful gaze to Eirwen. His jaws dripped with saliva. “You see, I am the prince of the forest, and I have been cursed to live this way for a number of years. But one day, I’ll return to my true form, and you’ll see how handsome I am.”
Rosalyn snorted, but Eirwen scooted closer to the massive creature who filled the room. Eirwen mooned. “A prince of the forest? My sister and I love the forest with all our hearts. We spend all our time there, for it is beautiful in every way.”
The bear nodded, but Rosalyn stepped between them. “Yes, and in all that time, we have never seen you. Was that even your gold to give?”
“Of course it was,” the bear growled. “Your words would strike a man dead, Miss Rosalyn. I wished only to give you a blessing, for you are beautiful enough to make a man mad.”
Their mother interceded, thanking the bear-prince for his kindness and encouraging him to stay. Eirwen served him a bowl of pottage, which he slurped eagerly, all the while paying her compliments. By the end of the night, he was speaking unspeakable sweetness to Eirwen, and she was swooning into his thick brown fur. When he finally left, Rosalyn exploded.
“Do you truly believe that creature is an honorable man, blanketed with a bewitched fur? Eirwen, have you lost your mind?”
“Much magic happens in the woods,” Eirwen replied. “We’ve seen stranger things, and look at how kind he was.” She dragged her fingers through the pile of gold on the table. Their mother agreed, still in shock.
Rosalyn shook her head, but both women had been fooled by the bear. Rosalyn was not. She saw a monster, a perverted one who saw a naïve young woman eager for affection. If the bear returned, she would be obligated to act.
The bear did return, and Rosalyn realized she didn’t know how to deal with the situation.
The creature shadowed their footsteps, brought them gold and gemstones, and supped in their home, all the while wooing Eirwen in a most disconcerting way. Being animal, he stuck his muzzle where it didn’t belong, and allowed Eirwen to caress his soft fur in a way that would be entirely inappropriate if he were a man.
Rosalyn considered whether sticking an axe in the skull of a bewitched bear-man was murder. She judged that it was not, but Eirwen disagreed.
“I’m going to marry him, once he’s a man,” cried Eirwen one night.
“You’re out of your mind,” Rosalyn retorted. “He’s not even that good of company. He’s a boorish bear and will make an even more boorish man.”
“But he brings such riches,” mumbled their mother. “More than enough for a dowry. You two will be well-looked after, when I’m gone. It’s all a mother can ask for in this world…”
“I don’t need to be looked after,” said Rosalyn.
“But I would like to be,” said Eirwen, sighing and drawing her fingers through her blond hair. “Come, Rosalyn, don’t be jealous.”
“I’m not—.” Rosalyn scrubbed her face in frustration, but Eirwen could not be convinced.
The bear visited, courting Eirwen, and time passed, and eventually the day came that the pounding at the door revealed not a beast, but a stunningly handsome man with chestnut eyes. Eirwen leapt into his arms, and they were wed that day in the shade of the forest.
But Rosalyn had prepared for this moment, baking the wedding cake with sordid ingredients to force the truth from the bear-man. Bewitched he had been, and bewitched he would be again, but this time in a way that was truthful rather than deceptive. Eirwen fed him a bite, and he did the same to her.
Rosalyn sidled up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “So tell me, brother, who placed the spell upon you?”
The prince’s smile stiffened as he dragged his gaze from his besotted bride.
“And,” Rosalyn continued, sure now of her conviction, “who gave you the power to enchant and beguile? My sister is far wiser than she has acted.”
His smile twitched into a snarl, revealing his canine teeth as though he were still bear, and his arm around Eirwen tightened. He growled in the back of his throat, strangling his own words.
“Answer me, beast.”
He choked, but the truth flew through his lips, uncontrolled. “The Devil.” His face turned red with effort to clamp his mouth shut, but it was too late.
Rosalyn pulled her dagger from a fold in her dress and plunged it into the bear-prince’s neck.
Eirwen shrieked, but Rosalyn slid the blade out, shearing through flesh and vessel, and blood sprayed across the bridal whites of Eirwen’s dress. The man-bear roared one last time, a world-shattering cry of anger, desperation, and viciousness. And with that, he fell from his chair, writhing in pain and bleeding black, bewitched blood. His mouth protruded, half-bear in shape with teeth extending, and his ears grew pointed. His neck began to fuse together to the whispered incantation of a thousand witches’ whispers, and then he reached a shaky, clawed hand up to staunch the blood.
Eirwen screamed again, this time in horror at the monster before her. The spell woven by the bear had broken, and she yanked a blade from the man’s own belt sheath. At the same time, Rosalyn ran to the woodshed and pulled the axe from its bracket on the wall. Both sisters stared at each other for the briefest moment, fully seeing each other for the first time in years.
Then they sank their blades into the beast, Eirwen stabbing and Rosalyn hacking. They cut the man-bear into pieces until they were both gasping with the effort. Blood spattered their dresses and weapons.
Rosalyn sank to her knees with a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry, Eirwen. I just didn’t like him.”
Eirwen agreed. “A boorish bore, dear sister. I don’t know why I couldn’t see it.”
“Devilry,” whispered their mother, wiping her cheeks with a kerchief. “Forgive me, beloved daughters, and let us never fall for such a deceiver again.”
They sat in silence, until the shuffle of footsteps interrupted their contemplation.
The dwarf appeared, scanning the bloody scene with a mote of surprise and a measure of satisfaction. “Well then, you finally saw what he was.”
Rosalyn nodded slowly. “That day, that was your gold. We should not have accepted it.”
The dwarf growled. “Aye, and the bastard stole far more than that. Nearly all my hard work was stolen over the years, all I dug and all I panned. Gems you wouldn’t believe, or maybe you would. He used them to bewitch you. The woods be full to the brim of beasts like him, selfish half-men who embraced their monster. Bears, wolves, and raggedy highwaymen who can’t leave a person in peace.”
Rosalyn stood, yanking her axe from the last cloven piece of the beast, then took her sister’s hand. “Then I suppose, we have work to do in the woods. It is our home and our solace, and we shall not abide any more monsters.”
Eirwen gave her a shy smile. “Indeed.”
Their mother smiled. “Your father braved the woods too. He’d be so proud of you, my dear daughters. There is no prince of the woods, but there are certainly two princesses. Go and rule it.”
Rosalyn and Eirwen went on to become monster hunters with their new dwarf friend. Rosalyn was known for her blood-red cloak, supposedly dyed by blood she spilled cleansing the woods. Eirwen was known for her pale, deathly visage and cold heart; she never fell for a love enchantment ever again.