The Asylum for Fairy-Tale Creatures by Sebastian Gregory Page A

Swinging slowly back and forth like an awful decoration.
    “I cannot remember my name,” gibbered a small goblin-like creature curled on the floor.
    “It is Rumpelstiltskin—it says so on your strait-jacket,” Thumbeana said as they passed.
    “Thank you, thank you,” he sang and went dancing down the corridor.
    They came to a figure standing in the centre of the corridor and blocking the way forward. Her long hair was black as raven feather and her skin was snow white. When she spoke she did so through lips of deep red wine. She too wore a strait-jacket designed for restraint. However it was torn and ripped and re-sewn into a long dress. Red Riding Hood immediately spotted the meat cleaver in the girl’s left hand.
    “Can you help me?” she cried. “I cannot find my dwarves. Have you seen them?”
    “No, I’m sorry,” Red replied. “Myself and my friends are leaving—why don’t you come with us?” She looked at the weapon in Snow White Skin’s hand and she inched forward. “Perhaps I should take that?”
    She wants our weapon for herself—she wants to harm us.
The voice came from Snow White Skin’s lips but sounded unlike her previous soft tones. The voice was a male voice, deep and grumpy.
We should kill them before they kill us.
    The voice changed and was more pleasant and happy.
Please do not hurt them—we could be friends.
The voice changed again and again, each one separate from the last:
    No, kill them.
    They’re looking at us—why are they doing that?
    I’m tired.
    Perhaps they want to be friends.
    We should help them.
    Help them die before they finish us.
    Snow White Skin paced the width of the corridor back and forth, arguing with herself. Each point rose in a different voice. Red Riding Hood counted seven in all.
    “Who are you talking to?” Thumbeana asked, her face a patchwork of interest.
    Snow White Skin glared directly at the three and began to stalk towards them. In turn Red, Thumbeana and the bear were moving backwards.
    “Who am I talking to? Who am I talking to?” she shrilled. “Do you not see? My dwarves. My dwarves.”
    “Yes, they are very nice,” Red told her.
    “Oh, yes, they are,” she replied. “Which is your favourite?”
    “That one.” Red pointed.
    “That one?” asked Snow White Skin, stopping and pointing.
    “I like his hat,” Thread Bear added.
    “His hat? I’m sure he would be pleased to hear that. Except, little bear, there is no one there.”
    The blade was lifted and swung; however, Red Riding Hood saw it coming and pushed at the Snow White Skin girl, knocking her into the hard wall. This did not stop the cleaver being swung blindly once again.
    Kill them; kill them all!
screamed seven voices all from Snow White Skin’s mouth.
    Red Riding Hood barely managed to fall backwards from its arch. It travelled instead hitting the bear on Thumbeana’s shoulder. All of a sudden bear and cleaver were embedded in the wall. The bear flopped against the metal. Whatever life force had animated it was now gone. Thumbeana in anguish screamed forth as she was experiencing sorrow for the first time. It overwhelmed her and she scratched, bit and pulled at Snow White Skin in a flurry of pure viciousness. Red regained her balance and fought to pull Thumbeana away. Snow White Skin lay still.
    “You are very naughty. What did you do?” cried Thumbeana and for the first time in her un-life she had real tears.
    “Oh, I’m not hurt,” a tiny voice informed them. The air had gone cold and pure white breath came from Red.
    There by the cells was a boy of six or seven. He wore a tidy school uniform and an honest face. He was also completely see-through.
    “Bear, is that you?” Thumbeana asked, wiping her tears.
    “Yes, silly. I was never a bear. They were right—I was a ghost thing hiding, but now I am free.”
    Thumbeana thought about it for a moment and sulkily said, “Then I am happy for you.”
    “Thank you, Thumbeana, and thank you, Red Riding Hood. Now you