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    But Can You Let Him Go
    But Can You Let Him Go
    But Can You Let Him Go
    Ebook76 pages1 hour

    But Can You Let Him Go

    By Cindy Lynn Speer

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    About this ebook

    A 20,000 word novella based on Cinderella fairy tale told from the godmother's point of view will take the readers to the roots of the story in ancient Egypt and China. Cinderella always finds her prince, but can the fairy godmother ever find love?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDragonwell Publishing
    Release dateApr 8, 2015
    ISBN9781940076294
    But Can You Let Him Go

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      Book preview

      But Can You Let Him Go - Cindy Lynn Speer

      Also by Cindy Lynn Speer

      Myth and Magic

      Once Upon a Curse

      Wishes and Sorrows

      Standalone

      A Necklace of Rubies

      The Chocolatier's Wife

      But Can You Let Him Go

      The Chocolatier's Ghost

      The Key to All Things

      Table of Contents

      Also By Cindy Lynn Speer

      Copyright © 2012, 2015 by Cindy Lynn Speer

      Also By Cindy Lynn Speer

      Copyright © 2012, 2015 by Cindy Lynn Speer

      Cover by Atelier Sommerland

      Published by Dragonwell Publishing

      All rights reserved.

      ––––––––

      BUT CAN YOU LET HIM GO?

      by Cindy Lynn Speer

      ~~~

      This is me. The caution in your tale, the one with the thousand guises. Right now my disguise is nothingness, as I follow a farmer, leading his donkey down the dusty path into town. The donkey is well fed and the distance left to travel is long, yet the man has made no move to ride it, or the cart it is pulling.

      Kindness, then. It is confirmed when he reaches up and scratches the donkey between its long, dark grey ears, and says, Not far, now. We will rest in a few minutes. He is not thin, but one of those stocky, stable men, and soaked with sweat from the afternoon heat, so I am not sure if he is comforting himself or the animal. He has an air of being decently well off. Not rich, but his belongings are in good condition and unpatched.

      So, what is your vice? That is what I ask, always, as I study the people I meet. Are you vain? Are you greedy? Do you let your resentments fester? Do you lust after what is not yours? His was not readily apparent, which made things more complex. After all, if he abused his animal, I could simply switch his and the donkey’s souls and call it a day. Or just trade their heads. I’d done it before, though, and was bored with the idea.

      He led us off the road, and soon we were under shade, near water. I watched him avidly, but he watered his animal first, then let him crop the grass. The land was not well grazed, which made me wonder if many people knew about this spot.

      I waited for him to settle down, slipping a short distance away. I changed my hair color to a bright gold, but I let it be matted. My face was pretty, delicate, but my body was thin, my clothes old and worn. There was just enough dirt to make me look poor, impoverished, but not disgusting. Pathetic was what I was looking for.

      I ran through the trees, and then tripped and fell into the clearing only a few feet away from my quarry.

      I made a little, terrified squeak of horror.

      He’d jumped up and drawn a knife when I fell into the clearing, but now he looked at me, trying not to laugh. Tis all right, he said. I won’t hurt you.

      I gave him a doubtful look, but then I turned my attention to the feast he had set out on a cloth, as if unable to maintain my suspicion in the face of food. Fresh brown bread, a half a wheel of creamy white cheese, preserved sausage. Please. I said, and then I swallowed. Please, sir...can I have...I am so hungry, sir. I looked up at him with huge brown eyes, silently begging. He looked back at me. I saw his tongue touch the corner of his mouth, and I thought, Aha. How easy and predictable men are. I was tempted to heave my chest a little, but I didn’t want to encourage him further. Men were perfectly capable of falling all on their own. And his eyes did fall, to the torn blouse, that revealed just on the edge of too much, then back up to my face. He winced.

      I certainly have enough to spare, he said, and turned, kneeling. He cut a generous piece of the bread. I did not need to look into the future to know already what it would be. He would give me food, ask me questions, I would tell him the same story I told everyone, and he would ponder what, if anything, he should do for me. The danger, such as it was, had passed.

      When he turned, smiling, his hand filled with bread, I was gone.

      Girl? he called. Girl? I promised. I won’t hurt you... He looked around for me, but I was gone.

      I remained on that part of the road for several days, half waiting for him to come back through. The blue birds were leading me to the next destination on the path of my life, but I was dawdling on purpose. Many years ago I’d been in a battle, one so furious that I’d had to retire to the trees and sleep. The last full moon had seen me rise again at last, but I still felt odd. The magic that makes up who I am seemed to be leaking out of some small hole in me, like fine sand through cloth. Perhaps, I am fading at last, but I can’t just yet. Not until I have done that one thing that I must.

      The farmer was in a better mood when I next saw him, and I knew his business had gone well. Who should I be, this time? A crone, of course...is there anything else? I made myself ugly, misshapen, one eye milky, the other seeming to wander of its own accord. Soon I was making my way up the road toward him, leaning heavily on my stick. He passed me without looking at me, and I knew I was disturbing, but a truly good soul would not care. Sir, I called in my twisted voice, Sir, I am so hungry, do you have bread to spare for an old woman?

      He sidled closer to the donkey. I am sorry...I have nothing.

      But you are just back from town. Did you not do well in the market? Did you not pack something for your journey home? I do not ask for much, just a crust...

      I told you, I have nothing! He quickened his pace.

      But you had plenty when you thought I was young and beautiful. My voice changed before my body, so he turned

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