Sleeping Judy

Sleeping Judy

Chantelle Nay

Smashwords Edition

copyright 2015

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Copyright 2015 by Chantelle Nay. All rights reserved.

Smashwords Edition

Cover Design by Chantelle Nay

Cover Model: Kylie Nay

Fiction/clean romance/fairytale

To all of those who know that life

isn't a fairytale,

but still believe that it can be.

"Some people call what I have

a disease.

Some call it a disorder.

Some believe that it was just by

unfortunate chance

that this happened to me—

that there is no one to blame.

I know differently.

It's all been a lie, all of it,

my whole life.

Now I'm trapped

in between two worlds,

and until I can find a way

to break the curse...

this is my life."

Judy

Preface

The gift was waiting for me in my locker after seventh period. I took out the beautifully wrapped box that fit perfectly in the palm of my hand. On top there was a generic card that simply read: Happy Birthday.

I lifted the lid and peeled back the thin tissue paper to reveal a tiny porcelain rose. It was pink in the center and darkened as it moved outward until the edges of the petals were a deep blood-red. There was a tiny snow-white pearl set in the middle. It was beautiful. It looked so real that I reached in and stroked the petals with my fingertip.

Who would have given me such a precious gift?

I lifted the tiny rose out of its box and noticed that it had a pin on the back. Receiving such a beautiful pin seemed like a romantic gesture. My heart did a little flip in my chest. I was positive that a shy, handsome boy, who was madly in love with me, had left this here for me to find.

I placed the tiny box in my locker. Then carefully took the rose and lifted it up to pin it on my shirt directly over my heart—a symbolic gesture in case whomever had given it to me was watching.

I put one finger inside my shirt to guide the pin back out and let out a small yelp. I pulled my finger back as a perfect drop of blood formed where I had pricked it with the pin. I stuck my finger in my mouth to get rid of the blood and try to ease the pain. When I pulled my finger out, the blood was gone and I reached down to finish pinning the rose onto my shirt.

What happened next seemed to be in slow motion. As my hand reached for the rose, I watched in horror as it fell from the front of my shirt, slipped past my grasping fingers and plummeted to the tile floor below.

The shattering effect was surprising to say the least. It exploded into millions of tiny pieces until it was no more than fine powder sprinkled at my feet.

No, no, no, I whimpered as I bent down to examine the remains.

It was completely demolished—gone. I let out a moan as I picked up the golden pin and the tiny pearl off the floor. They were all that remained of my perfect rose.

I pushed back my tears as I took the tiny box out of my backpack and placed them inside then filled it with as much of the red and pink dust as I could sweep up in my fingers.

It seemed impossible that the tiny rose could have disintegrated so completely. If there had been any pieces left at all I could have attempted to glue it back together, but I couldn't resurrect powder.

My perfect gift was now nothing more than a pearl, some dust and a sharp golden pin with my blood on it.

Chapter One

On my 16th birthday, the world as I knew it changed.

I was walking out the front doors of the school when everything around me started to spin and lose shape. I remember seeing the sidewalk coming toward my face in slow motion. Then I felt the cold rough concrete smack into the side of my head. After that everything went quiet, and then it went dark.

When I opened my eyes, what felt like only seconds later, I was face down with grass up my nose and the taste of dirt in my mouth. I sat up slowly, and felt a sharp pain shoot through my side. I wrapped my arm around my rib cage to try and ease some of the pain and got to my feet. I was in what appeared to be a very dark, very creepy forest. How in the heck had I gotten here and why did I have no clue where here was?

Mallory? my ragged voice forced the name through my lips. My best friend had been walking beside me when I'd left the school. I swore it had only been a few minutes since I'd heard her tight voice complaining in my ear.

Now I was alone. Mallory wasn't where she'd been just half a minute ago. In fact there didn't seem to be anyone else around at all. I peered up into the towering trees. I was used to being surrounded by skyscrapers, these trees seemed just as tall. I could barely make out a tiny patch of blue sky high above me.

Hello? I called out, putting as much volume into my voice as I could.

The loud crack of a snapping branch made my breath catch in the top of my throat. I flipped my head around and took in the dark woods behind me. There, behind the darkest section of brush, I thought I saw an eerie pair of yellow-gold eyes staring out at me.

Terror seized me in an instant. I sucked in a heavy breath and started to run with every ounce of energy I had, letting the thick brush slap against my legs and scratch and tear at the exposed skin of my arms.

The sound of padded footfalls followed close behind me. More branches cracked to the left of me, then the right. I tried to scream, but no sound came out. My heart was pounding out a frantic beat in my chest.

I didn't know if I was running away from the danger or toward it. I just kept running. I ran until my legs ached and my lungs burned. I ran until my heart felt like it was about to explode. Finally I dropped to the ground from sheer exhaustion, pulling myself behind an old broken stump.

I sat there, as silently as I could with my chest still heaving and my ribs aching. As if to mock me, the trees made strange creaking sounds as an invisible wind moved them from far up above. The broken shadows created by the leaves in the canopy made it hard to know if I saw movement out of the corner of my eye, or if it was just my imagination.

This was all crazy. I must be dreaming. Well, I don't think I'm in Chicago anymore, I said to myself, mostly to take my mind off of how terrified I was.

I spun around as a loud, quick knocking sound startled me. Several unseen birds took flight, disturbing the eerie silence further. I covered my mouth with my free hand, stifling an involuntary scream. Something told me that it wasn't a good idea to give away my position when I wasn't sure where I was or what else might be out there.

My breath came out in huffs as I tried to calm myself. It's just a park, I whispered to myself. Any minute I'll step out of the trees and find out that I'm in the middle of the city and this has all been some kind of trick. Even as I said it, I knew it was a lie. I'd been to the city park before, and this was not it. I had lived in Chicago my whole life. I was used to the sprawling city, the heat that rose off the pavement, the smell of exhaust and the gray-blue sky that covered the city like a blanket. There was none of that here.

The sound of my pursuer had vanished. Everything was quiet once again. I had no idea what had been chasing me, where I was, or how I was going to get back home?

I leaned up against the weathered wood of the stump, buried my face in my hands and began to sob. I usually wasn't much of a crier, but nothing about this situation was usual. I was lost and alone and scared and hurt. It was getting darker and this forest was thick and relentless and probably full of wild animals that would have no aversion to eating me as soon as the first chance presented itself.

At that thought I tried my best to muffle my little sob fest, realizing that it would be best not to draw attention to myself. If I was going to remain safe, then I would need to remain hidden which meant that I needed to be silent.

It seemed like hours before I finally gathered all the courage I could muster. I slowly stuck my head out just enough to peer around the stump, looking for any sign of whatever had been chasing me. There was nothing there, just the endless trees, the songs of the birds, and the rustle of the breeze through the dense canopy above.

I wiped the back of my hand across my tear streaked face. This situation called for strength and confidence. I had very little of both at the moment, but no one else needed to know that. I looked around the stump one more time, then rose to my feet slowly, that sharp pain shooting through my rib cage again. I wrapped one arm tightly around my side. I probably needed a doctor, but first I needed to get out of these blasted woods.

I tried to remember something that would be useful. I'd been to camp almost every summer since I'd turned eight. On the hikes the instructor usually went on and on about how to tell the direction you were going, what to do if you got lost, and how to avoid bears and other dangerous animals. I remember him saying that to find your direction you needed to be able to see the sun. No matter where you were in the world, the sun always rose in the East and set in the West.

I looked up toward the sky, hoping to get my bearings. The sun was up, but it filtered unevenly through the thick green up above. I needed to get out of the trees and get to higher ground. I kept moving, faster and faster until I was almost running again. My arms and legs hurt from the effort, and the sharp pain was still present in my side. Not to mention the fact that now I was hungry and thirsty.

The next sound I heard made my dry throat jump with anticipation. It was the unmistakable burbling of water moving in a stream and it was close. I'd been walking for hours and wanted nothing more than to sit down and rest but I pushed my legs forward in the direction of the heavenly sound. Finally I came to a sharp drop-off with the stream just below. It wasn't that high, maybe six feet, so I got down on my hands and knees and lowered myself backwards over the edge until my feet hit the dirt below.

I dropped to my knees and scooped the water up with my hands, slurping it greedily. My mind screamed at me about the dangers of drinking straight out of a stream of an unknown source, but I didn't listen. If I got sick and died, at least I wouldn't be thirsty anymore.

The water was delicious. So cold and clear, better than any of the expensive filtered water from back home. It tasted so good that I drank until the water sloshed in my stomach. I couldn't complain, it had been so worth it.

I only rested for a few minutes then stood up, knowing that I needed to keep moving, it would be dark soon. I was worried about leaving the stream behind, in case I got thirsty again, so I decided I might as well follow it. It had to lead somewhere, and since I didn't know where I was going anyway, it couldn't hurt to have something to follow.

I walked along the edge of the flowing water, skipping over it now and then in spots where it wasn't very wide. It turned and curled as it made its way along and I found myself enjoying the company of it. I didn't feel so alone with its constant chattering there to keep me entertained.

After the next bend I could see that the trees opened up a bit and my attitude brightened. As I got closer my excitement intensified. I could tell that the clearing was not made by nature, but by man. Hand-cut stumps poked up out of the grass and over to the left there seemed to be a dirt path that led somewhere further into the trees. My eyes followed the path backwards, searching for its origin, and that's when I saw the cottage.

Like a fairytale, the small stone structure was nestled in the trees. It had a thatched roof with a cobble stone chimney that poked through it. The windows had no glass, but were covered by cloth which appeared clean and untattered—someone lived there, or at least visited often.

I stepped out of the safety of the trees and headed toward the cottage with apprehension. I had no idea whether anyone was home or if they were friendly. I reached the front door which looked to be a heavy hunk of wood that had been intricately carved with swirling designs and the silhouettes of birds. I raised my hand up and noticed it was shaking. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and knocked.

Taking a few steps back, in case I needed to run, I waited. There was no movement, no answer from the tiny cottage. A little braver this time, I knocked again. It was answered again by silence.

Hello? I called. Is anyone home?

Still nothing.

I stuck my hand out and grasped the latch. I lifted it cautiously. The thick door opened with a pronounced creak of rusty hinges and I slowly stuck my head inside. It was dimly lit, the cloth window coverings preventing the natural daylight from entering fully. I took one step in and then another.

Hello? I called again.

As my eyes adjusted I could see that the entire cottage consisted of only one large room. There was a fireplace against one wall with a large iron pot hung over it. A wash basin and an empty water pitcher sat on a small table on another wall. Near the back corner I could make out a small bed with a patchwork quilt and a fluffy white pillow. Next to the door was a coat tree, which was empty. A large braided rug covered the center of the floor and a small whitewashed table with two chairs sat in the middle of it.

I stared around the room in awe and disbelief. Surely this wasn't real. It was like an antique doll house brought to life. I walked over to the table and couldn't resist running my hand along the back of one of the chairs. It felt real. I headed toward the fireplace and peered inside the large pot. It was empty, but clean, as if it was used often and was a prized possession.

Next I went to the washstand and looked into the oval mirror that hung from the wall above it. I sucked in a breath when I saw my reflection. I looked horrible. My hair resembled a bird’s nest, complete with leaves and twigs sticking out of it. Dark streaks of dirt smeared my face, apparently left over from my face plant and then my crying jag earlier.

Maybe if I could clean myself up and rest for a while, I'd have a better chance of making some sense of all this. I picked up the water pitcher and took it outside to fill it in the stream.

I walked to the edge of the water and kneeled down, lowering the pitcher into the current to capture some of the cool water. I hummed to myself as I worked, happy to be somewhere with signs of human existence once again. This nightmare would soon be over.

Suddenly a dark shadow rose up above me and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. Who are you? A deep, husky voice demanded as a cold piece of steel grazed my neck just below my chin.

My mind swam as I realized what was happening. I was being mugged by a dude with a sword. Seriously?

I'd known people who'd had knives pulled on them, but a sword? Where in the heck was I?

Please, lower your....weapon and I'll explain everything, I promised with a weak voice.

I heard him step closer, and the blade against my throat pushed in deeper. I held my breath and tried not to move.

This looked like the end.

I allowed my eyes to move slowly upward in the hopes of catching a glimpse of my attacker. If I lived through this I'd need to be able to I.D. the guy. I felt the hard shove of a boot in my back and found myself face to face with the dirt again. That's when I noticed it, in the water above me, the beautiful face of a destroying angel which appeared as a swirling reflection.

I must be dead.

That crazy idiot must have cut my throat and I'd bled to death. What else could explain the vision I saw before me in the water?

If I was already dead, there was no reason to be afraid of the sword at my throat anymore. I pushed up from the ground, whipping my head around, and was blinded by a bright stream of light coming out of the trees.

Just before I fainted, I saw the silhouette of a tall dark man standing above me and in his hand he held a glimmering long sword.



My eyes fluttered open slowly to a bright white hospital room. My aunt sat in the corner, asleep in a chair. I could hear the beeping of the heart monitor machine next to me. Outside in the