J.R. Knight's Blog, page 4

The Cure, 01: The Fusing

| 00.1 |

WELCOME TO METRAVĀ!

| DOCŪMENT: WELCOME PACKAGE

FOR HUMAN PERSONNEL / DECODED /

TRANSLATED / COLLATED / PRINTED |

Welcome, human! The following material is a brief overview of our way of life in Metravā in the year 3433. This welcome package is intended to introduce and explain concepts that you may find alien. It is vital that you are aware of how our kind exists and how different we are from you. We hope you find this enlightening.

–

The planet of Metravā is approximately 54.6 million kilometres away from your current planet. Covered entirely by Synthetī insulation that provides generated heat, air and a fully operational ecosystem, everything within Metravā, from vegetation to nature, is artificial and scientifically generated.

Metravā is governed by Peār, its headquarters located within Metravā City, the central hub of the planet. It is divided into subs, which layer from the city in a circular formation.

Metravā is populated by the U-man, an advanced version of the human. U-mans commence at the Begin Station, have a life cycle of 151 years and cease at the End Station. They live in their allocated sub in the home lots. They attend pre-edūcation, edūcation, higher edūcation and are then allocated a life partner as well as a mandatory at the age of 25. For the duration of their lifespan, U-mans live in the pattern of their mandatory and their reflect period. Once coupled, U-mans are allowed one child.

U-mans are fused with their U-chip at birth. The U-chip is a multi-faceted complex piece of engineered technology. The U-chip is fused to a U-man’s inner left wrist. It restores and repairs cells, boosts the immune system and energies the body, thus eliminating the need for sleep. The U-chip constantly syncs to Peār’s headquarters, neutralising emotion, removing waste and refreshing cognitive function through wireless transmission. The U-chip has a major update annually and minor updates periodically, with new and advanced functions added to improve the quality of life and to introduce trends into society.

Once pressed, much like a button, the U-chip projects pliable, physical pixels into the air. Visible to the public, but abled to be switched to private mode, the U-chip’s screen can be manipulated to be as small as a palm or as wide as three meters in length.

Amongst many things the U-chip is the hub of all communication, from a U-man’s records, to their currencī, to their U-Media platforms. Parents monitor their child’s U-chip until the age of 14 when, come their 14th annual update, Receivers are installed into a teenage U-man’s ears. Receivers remotely connect audio to the U-chip. U-chips ping when there is an alert and can connect to Edū tabs, Edū Screens, Home Receivers and to Public Receivers.

U-mans replenish their body with Nutrī, a mass-produced blend of essential vitamins, protein and nutrients provided by Peār, in varied Pear Approved flavours. U-mans swipe their U-chip under a Nutrī Dispenser to receive their allocated and pre-calculated meal, decided by Peār based off of a multitude of factors such as age and gender. There are three meals: early meal, mid meal and late meal, as well as one snack allowance during the daāy.

U-mans travel in their Navīgator, a compact vehicle that self-navigates to the encoded destination. The commute to Metravā City is usually taken in Communal Navīgators.

U-mans complete their mandatory or edūcation for 15 hours, with reflect period filling the remaining nine.

U-man’s speech and communication have advanced beyond that of humans, so much so that the common word is no longer necessary. The following docūments have been translated for the current reader’s benefit. Some words have not been translated with complete accuracy, thus leaving accents and spelling that will not be of your norm. The Metraviān interpreter has completed this translation to the best of its abilities, taking into account both of our languages, our grammars and our spellings, but there will still be inconsistencies.

 

 

 

  | 00.2 |

INTERLUDE

| INTERNAL THOUGHTS EXTRACTED FROM SÅVJE SINGKŪ /

81SUB MEMORIAL / 14.8.3433 / 07:52āam |

Dear Reader,

You must understand this: if anyone were to find out what I am about to do I would die. Automatically, with a Nitrobullet to my head. It is of the upmost importance that this confession is respected with the highest confidence and never falls into the wrong hands. That said, before you read our story, let meē introduce myself.

My name is Dr. Såvje Singkū. I was born on the 13th of Uarjaān 3379. I migrated from 27Sub to 81Sub when I began my pledge as a doctor of Metravā. Now let that sink in, it may be a lot for you to take in at once. For meē, my entire life changed as I knew it when I became a doctor, and maybe not in the way that you may think. See reader, the following is a compilation of docūments that have (hopefully) been sent and translated to you in order to prevent our existence from becoming what it is. To prevent you from becoming us. What you are about to read are internal thoughts that have been extracted, compiled and decoded into your language for you to understand and to hopefully take wisdom from. I urge you to keep this information safe, hold it in your hands like a precious beacon of hope and remember that you can make a change with what you know.

The cure will not become you. Do not join the cure. Join the right cure by ensuring that you will never need to be ‘healed’. This may not all make sense to you yet, dear reader, but it will in due time. Please keep everything about you that is whole and unique and different sacred; wear every ounce of dissimilarity with privilege like a badge of honour. Never conform and never give in.

I will now allow you access into the thoughts of those involved in the ‘Knijä Project.’ The following is a collation of memories from those who hoped that their rebellion would one daāy save your life and your individuality. Trust in that as much as I am trusting in you now.

As we say: farefarewell.

[Closing line],

[Signature tag].

– Dr. Såvje Singkū

 

 

 

| 01 |

THE FUSING

| EXTRACTED FROM DR. SÅVJE SINGKŪ /

81SUB MEMORIAL / 14.08.3433 / 07:52āam |

Todaāy is not like any other daāy. Todaāy it all begins. I walk down a corridor of 81Sub Memorial just as the sky is lighting up in preparation for the saān to burst through and reset the daāy for the citizens of Metravā.

I huff quietly to myself, knowing that the saān is rising earlier than scheduled, mindful to keep this huff so soft that not even the walls with eyes and ears can hear.

Peār is increasing the amount of generated daāylight to force their people to work harder, faster and for longer. What was once a uniform starting daāy of 09:00āam is now 08:00āam and will eventually become 07:00āam. They will do this by gradually changing the pre-encoded time for saānrise, ensuring no one will react. Yet some of us will.

The Begin Station of 81Sub. My daāy begins and ends in this place. Each sub has a memorial, comprising of many stations, the Begin and End Station being the most prominent. The main operating room within the Begin Station, the Begin Room, is the only locked space in any sub. In fact, the only operation of any real significance happens in the Begin Room and is only ever performed on a female U-man. Most other procedures are mundane, like faulty U-chip repairs or expensive cosmetic enhancement for the elite (rarely done in an outer sub like 81Sub, however). The following procedure that I am about to perform is the most sacred, protected and secretive of procedures.

Nurse Eight is waiting for meē outside the Preptorial Room, a room just to the side of the Begin Room. Nurse Eight is exactly the same as Nurse Two or Nurse Ten, or any nurse really. Or any other female in Metravā. She stands at exactly six feet, projecting Peār’s ideal vision of what a woman should be. She embodies the sky, with skin as white as the clouds, healthy, even, plump and smooth. Her hair is lustrous, thick and the colour of a shining afternoon saān. Blonde and golden, smooth and shiny. Her eyes are the purest blū, clear, vibrant and illuminated by the constant supply of fresh oxigeēn that pumps U-man blood through her. Nurse Eight’s only difference to any other woman in Metravā is that she is dressed in a white skirt and shirt, wears a white surgical mask around her face and has an ‘eight’ printed in the smallest black typesetting on the front of her shirt.

“Goodgoodmorning, Dr. Singkū,” Nurse Eight addresses meē politely. I have worked with her for the last eight years and I have never asked, nor felt the need, to ask for her name. “Your first patient for the daāy, Neēreē Tāu, is inside the Preptorial Room already sedated.”

“Thankthankyou, Nurse Eight,” I reply promptly. I nod at her and Nurse Eight turns and walks off down the corridor.

I open the door and, as if to remīnd meē that they are always watching, the saān rises at that precise moment. The sky now is neither pink nor orange nor any other colour than blū.

I remember how, as a child, Peār removed seasonal Synthetī changes, believing that it affected the working conditions of the people of Metravā. If there is no artificial rain to block you from your morning commute, there could be no excuse not to come to your mandatory. Rain. Hmmm, I briefly remember that. Synthetī snow falling down to the ground, the crinkly sound of amber leaves. That is all gone now like a deleted U-file. Snow now disappears from the sky before it can be touched. Autumn leaves remain un-fallen and un-crinkled on preened Synthetī trees.

Neēreē Tāu is lying down on the surgical table as rays of sāanlight stream through the large clear windows and illuminate her unconscious body. Again, she looks exactly like any other woman in Metravā with the exception of her stomach. She is much like Nurse Eight – lean, long limbs and supple, even skin. She has long strands of blonde hair that have been styled into a ponytail for the procedure, and if her eyes were open I am sure I would be staring into bold blū irises. Her differences to other female U-mans are minimal, much like her thoughts. Peār wishes for every U-man to believe that they are a part of something bigger than them. It coaxes them and soothes them into believing that their similarities are necessary and vital to our way of life. Yet not all of us can be persuaded and not all of us are the same.

“Goodgoodmorning, Mrs. Tāu,” I say to her, despite knowing she cannot answer due to her sedation. “You have already had a peculiar daāy, but it is about to get a lot more interesting.”

Todaāy has already been filled with many firsts for Neēreē Tāu. This is the only time in her whole life where Neēreē can take a scheduled daāy off (aside from the annual daāy off in Winter). This is also the first and last time that Neēreē will be unconscious. She will wake up and feel the oddest sensation: having rested. It is something that as a doctor we were trained for. Before our time, during ‘The RevolUtion’, there was a thing called sleep.

I take Neēreē’s limp left hand and feel her U-chip, the little metallic piece of technology that was fused into her inner wrist when she was born. I press it and billions of tiny pixels burst into the air, before arranging themselves into a thin pixelated screen above meē. I begin swiping and moving things away until I get to her Medīc records. Instantly, a notīfy pops up:

08:00āam: Birth of [female] child. Name pending.

I look down at her bulging pregnant stomach and nod. “It is time.”

–

| EXTRACTED FROM DR. SÅVJE SINGKŪ /

81SUB MEMORIAL / 14.08.3433 / 08:17āam |

I wheel Neēreē and the surgical table that she lays on into the next room, the Begin Room. I swipe my wrist over the control pad beside the door and, as the metal recognises my U-chip, it snaps open. The room is completely covered from floor to ceiling in darkness, a stark contrast from the light in the other room. I wheel Neēreē into the centre as a backdrop of dark blū lights hum to life and colours up the room.

“You must understand, Mrs. Tāu, that this was all done by … random allocation.” I walk over to the Well behind meē and put my hands out. As Waterlite washes over meē, my U-chip pulses, and an advert interrupts the calm on the side of my wrist in a neat squared pixelated box, “Try Waterlite Blū Plus todaāy! Waterlite’s new formula now comes in a—”

“U-chip: Work Mode,” I instruct, having forgotten to silence advertī and other unimportant notifys whilst I work. As my U-chip pulses twice to signify that it is now in Work Mode, I let the Waterlite soak into my hands.

“Sorry about that, Mrs. Tāu. Where was I? Ah yes, random allocation.”

I place my hands under a spout beside the Well and a clear line of anti-bacterial gel evenly distributes onto my palms. I allow the gel to dissolve before putting my gloves on.

“We could not think of any other way to do this but by random allocation.” I walk over and stand above Neēreē. “I volunteered to complete the procedure and your name was drawn out. There is no bias.”

I sit in front of her and begin the task at hand. The incision is simple and quick. Expertly trained and at the top of my class, I slice open my patient and extract the tiny little thing that has being living inside of her for eight months and three weeks without any complication or unease. I place the tiny little thing down and marvel at her a moment.

In my surgical box is the tiniest little box imaginable, the size of my U-chip. I place my wrist on top of the box and it clicks open.

“Inside here is the first of its kind.” I take out my surgical pliers with one hand, the other holding the tiny little thing’s wrist, and use the pliers to pluck out the new U-chip inside of the box.

“This is the most special U-chip of all,” I say to her and her new child, even though neither of them can hear nor understand meē. “This is the beginning of the real ‘begin’, Mrs. Tāu.”

I hold my breath, my eyes dilate, and adrenaline sparks through meē as I proficiently fuse the tiny little chip on the baby’s inner wrist.

“This is the first faulty U-chip of its kind.” I then hold up the newborn’s arm to the light and it shines like a second saānrise. The procedure is complete.

“This is the start of the rebellion.”

 

The Cure will be published in full on Monday the 15th of August.
The Cure is written by J. R Knight, illustrated by Paul Ikin and edited by Kayla Marie Murphy.
The first 15 instalments of The Cure will be published week by week on The Knight Life. The next instalment will continue next Monday.
Please show your support by sharing The Cure and subscribing to The Knight Life. Enter in your email via the right hand side for desktop users, scroll down for mobile/table users.

The Cure is Coming!

Hello everyone! I’m here to bring you some super exciting news: my debut novella will be out in the world sooner than you might think! Next week I will begin posting the first of 15 instalments of The Cure right here, on my website, week by week starting this coming Monday. That’s right! The first 15 instalments. Full chapters and illustrations and everything! My debut novella has a total of 2o chapters, but you can read the first 15 for free, right here!

I am doing this for many reasons. The first is to give anyone and everyone who reads The Cure a chance. A chance to see if you like it, if its for you, maybe it isn’t? Who knows! I’m also going to be asking people to share their thoughts and experiences with each chapter and to share the love in anticipation for the  novella’s launch in August. Lock that in!

The other reasons why I’m essentially giving away two thirds of the book is to show the worth of this story. I trust that if I give you 15 out of 20 chapters away that you will fall in love with it and want to read the ending by August. I could keep it all secret (believe me, I wanted to at times!) but this entire project and this complete experience is about sharing! Sharing these characters, this story and this message.

So… it all begins next Monday! Put in your diary and circle it! (Okay, you don’t have to circle it, haha!).

Here is the blurb:

Welcome to Metravā.

The year is 3433.

Here are some things you need to know:

Run by the governmental body, Peār, Metravā is inhabited by U-mans,

a genetically modified race of humans who do not sleep, who work

fifteen hours a daāy, and who are fused with their U-chip at birth.

Everyone is the same, everyone blends in, and no one stands out.

That is until Knijä Taū is born.

I know I sound like a broken record, but thank you for choosing to spend some time on my website, and I can’t wait to share with you the world of The Cure!

X

The first instalment of The Cure will be published on Monday the 14th of March 2016.
The Cure will be published in full on Monday the 15th of August 2016 in Paperback and in E-book.
Subscribe to The Knight Life today! Enter in your email via the side panel [for desktop users] or scroll down [for mobile/tablet users].

After Ever After: Part Ten (FINALE!)

Welcome everyone to the finale of After Ever After! Here it is, we are finally here! I am so excited to hear your thoughts on this introductory world of mine! Remember these ten parts are essentially only the first chapter to this potential novel! If you love the story, the characters and this narrative then tell me! Who knows what could happen after that? :D

Enjoy the finale Knight Life readers, and thank you for being here with me on my journey!

X

 

After Ever After: Part Ten (FINALE!)

“Can I get your number?”

Sandra laughed, and then hiccupped. “My number? It’s 20 apparently,” she giggled.

“I don’t mean your age,” Angus, the bearded man that had been buying her drinks for the past hour said. “I mean your phone number.”

“Oh, phone number?” Sandra gulped the remnants of her martini. “I just got one of those today! I could just tell you where I live.”

“Is that an invitation?” Angus leaned in.

“Another drink?” she tiled her glass in the air.

“Sure,” Angus muttered a little reluctantly, before asking the bartender for their house special and slipped him a twenty-dollar note. The bartender flipped a bottle of Madori in the air and nodded, “Gotcha, dude.”

Sandra began to laugh for no reason, perhaps due to the eighth drink that she had gotten off this strange and unusual woodsman. “You know my friend works here? She’s finished w-work now, though,” she hiccupped again. Was she speaking slower than normal? “I-I can’t really find here, or any of my other roommate. We’re fairytales, you know?”

“Well, you’re definitely a princess.” He put his hand on her thigh and tired to slide it up.

Sandra fell off the chair and gripped the top of the bar as the bartender placed a martini glass filled with green liquid in front of her.

“For the lady,” he winked at her. “She’s all good to have this one?”

“She’ll be right,” Angus helped her up and stroked his chin. “Drink up, cutie.”

“S’don’t m-hind if I do!” Sandra cheered and took a sip. “Oh, this is delicious. So yummy! Oh so yummy!”

She continued sipping and then tried to focus her gaze on Angus. “Do you like it here?”

“In Melbourne? Yeah, sure. I’m originally from Tassie, so anything beats that shit hole.” He swigged his cider and leaned in. “Where are you from?”

“A book!” she leaned back on her chair, “and a movie, and from once upon a time.”

Angus furrowed his brows. “Look, dude,” he smiled thinly and shrugged, “are we going to go home together or not?”

“Huh?” Sandra protectively clutched her martini and sipped it again. “You were just giving me pretty tasting drinks, dude!”

“You can never get something for nothing,” he huffed, setting down his empty cider down.

“Ahhhh, this is just so yummy,” Sandra gulped the last of the martini. “What flavour is it?”

“Ah, apple, clearly?” He rolled his eyes. “Haven’t you had one before?”

“Apple.” The colour drained from her eyes as she put a hand to her mouth. “Apple?”

The door to apartment 32 opened at 4:23am. Sandra escaped into the room and fell onto the carpet, whilst Cindy, Rorie and Matt all schlumped onto the couch and proceeded to unwrap and devour their kebabs.

“This was a good idea,” moaned Rorie as the steam from the freshly cooked meat washed over her face and mouth.

“4am d-hrunk kebabs are always a good idea, apparently,” Cindy said.

“Mmmmh,” Matt chewed and said mid-mouthful, “It’s better than sex, and I would know, I had it tonight.”

“In the club toilets, no less,” Rorie gave Matt an impressed nod of the head. “What happened to your new bestie, Cindy?”

“Oh Abice, yeah, well, she deserted me,” Cindy recalled, looking at the roof as if it could give her her memory back. “But she did give me the advice to buy kebabs to soak up the alcohol.”

They all went silent for a few moments as they tore into their kebabs.

“Guys.” Sandra was on all fours, attempting to sit up, her head swaying back and fourth.

“Quickly, Sandra.” Cindy bent over at the table beside her, ripped the plant out and handed Sandra the pot. “Spew in here.”

“No!” Sandra shook. “I won’t. It’s not princess-like.”

“Mmmm, yeah.” Rorie burped. “Princess like.”

“I want my snappily ever nafter!” Sandra said griping the pot for dear life, her mouth dry. “I want my true funce upon a time!”

It was about to come up. The thought of apple in her body was too much. She could not bear it, her stomach roared like a dragon.

“I WANT MY PRINCE BACK!”

“Prince”! Cindy laughed at her. “Oh Sandra, let’s me give you the advice I wish someone gave me,”

Cindy leaned in to Sandra and violently whispered in her ear. “There’s no such thing as Prince Charming’s here. Stick to shoes, sister.”

That was enough for Sandra. A long stream of deep green vomit fell in to pot. Her roommates clapped and cheered for her as she did so.

“You go girl!”

“Yay! Sandra!”

“Get it all out!”

She shook her head, wiped the awful taste from her lips and looked to her three new friends. She then laughed a little, rested her head against the coffee table and asked, “Mind if I have a bite?”

Cindy squinted, made a face that looked like she would vomit too, but then laughed with her. “Sure.”

“You can have a bite of mine too,” Rorie cheered.

“Sure, why not,” Matt offered. “Who cares if you’re just chucked?.”

“Welcome to your new life,” Cindy said as she handed over her kebab. “I think it’s going to be fun with you around here.”

X

Re-read all complete ten chapters to After Ever After, exclusive to the Knight Life now!
Creative credit for this incredible images of the After Ever After gang goes to Lina Zabaleta, whose tumblr you can check out at linapoligrafia.tumblr.com – thank you SO much Lina for this unbelievable illustration!
This narrative was edited by my wonderful editor: Kayla Marie Murphy. Contact: kaylamariemurphy@hotmail.com for any inquiries.
Subscribe to The Knight Life today! Enter in your email via the side panel [for desktop users] or scroll down [for mobile/tablet users].

After Ever After: Part Nine

Hello one, hello all! This is the second last instalment to this series on my blog: oh my GOSH! I can’t believe it: where has the time gone? Soooo many exciting things are continuing on my blog, so don’t forget to subscribe to be the first to know everything that is happening – I can’t wait!

Enjoy After Ever After: Part Nine, I just know you will! :D

X

After Ever After: Part Nine

“I don’t understand.”

Fear was thick in her voice, and rising. Something like this had never happened before.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Cindy trembled. “I’ve never seen it before. It’s hideous!” She leaned in closer, examining it in the mirror.

“I know, I know,” Rorie said, putting her hand on Cindy’s shoulder, her own face greyed with fear. “I just-I just don’t know what it is?”

“Matt!” Cindy screamed out. “Matt, get in here! It’s an emergency!

After a few moments Matt rushed in, Cindy swooping up to him on sight. She fingered through the front of her hair, split a chunk of it and shoved it straight in his face. “WHAT is this? Do you know?”

“Ah, no?” he said, chewing the inside of his gum. “I’m a guy.”

“Urgh,” she rolled her eyes. “How unhelpful.”

“Oh, Cindy,” Rorie gulped.

“What, Rorie, what?”

“Oh, Cindy, I think I know what it is now.” Rorie put her hands on Cindy’s. “Just breathe, okay, it’s going to be okay. It’s going to be all okay.”

“Alright.” Cindy controlled her breathing and used a flat palm to wave air over her face.

“I think,” Rorie tried to flatten her words, “that it’s regrowth.”

There was a small pause. “Ah, rewhat?”

“Regrowth,” Rorie explained. “It means that unfortunately your hair was dyed blonde in this world. It isn’t real, it’s fake.”

“Dyed blonde?” Her bottom lip began to quiver.

“Don’t worry!” she tried to cheer her up. “We’ll toss a few curls in it, have a few shots before we head to the club and it’ll be fine! Don’t worry!”

Cindy and Rorie got ready in their bathroom, spraying, spritzing and applying makeup in between YouTube tutorials on how to get “the perfect winged eye-liner” and “the hottest smoky eye.” Matt came in occasionally, to apply some deodorant and to brush his teeth.

Sandra was still in her room, having had set up her phone and email, and had come out in random intervals to ask things like “what is an internet” and “how do I insert things?” which prompted a round of infectious giggling.

The four roommates then gathered around the counter of their kitchen all together, all dressed up a few hours later. Cindy had opted for a body-con grey dress, with her hair slicked back. She had chosen to rock the regrowth.

Rorie had a flowery skirt on, with a plain purple top that showed her midriff, her hair was tightly curled and spiralled down her body in long bouncy tendrils.

Matt was still in the same outfit for before, except he had switched his earlier black tee for a new white, with the sleeves rolled up.

Cindy poured them each a glass of champagne and encouraged them to lift up their flutes. “To a new once upon a time.”

“Cheers!”

“Well, guys,” Rorie downed her champagne, “I’ll meet you there. My shift finishes at 12am, and then we can party!”

Rorie stared at herself momentarily in the reflection of the bar. She couldn’t resist these urges anymore. She was attractive and deep down inside her well… she wanted something inside her.

Did that make her dirty? She wanted to touch somebody on their lips, though nothing like how she always did at the end of the movie in her old life. Eurgh, her old life, where it would just go back to the start again. She was able to do so much more here. She could do whatever she wanted! Or whomever she wanted. Who cared if she wanted to bang a guy or a girl, or both? She could sleep with anybody. She bit her lip and swept away the hair out of her eyes.

Rorie loved her job. Kingdome Come was the hot stop for all the hipsters of Brunswick. If you didn’t have Ray Bans or Chinos or if something wasn’t half shaved, don’t even bother lining up. Rorie worked as the forth fairy in the bar line up.

There was Gretel, the cutest thing since sliced bread. She had long synthetic blonde wavy hair that was usually tied up into two slender pigtails. Gretel was notorious for her gift of God-like sexual favours, and her addiction to candy. If she wasn’t seen with a lollipop in her mouth, well, she could be found with her lips around someone else hard and slippery.

There was Mary, the fiery head bartender. The only thing tighter than Mary’s temper was her backside, which fitted nicely in her leather pants, a permanent in her wardrobe. Nothing got past or into Mary, she made sure of it. With her flaming black hair and thick makeup, she was spicy like Sriracha and impenetrable like the wall of China.

Then there was the last fairy, Missy, who was a self-professed fabulous drag Queen. Miss usually referred to herself as “the fairy with the complete package”. She looked very reminiscent of Gina Liano (times a thousand), with lashes that curled up to her eyebrows, a stunning gold studded dress and curls upon curls that piled atop of her head.

Kingdom Come was owned and run by Prince (named after the singer, of course). Prince was only half good looking because of his massive biceps and attractively messy cut blonde hair. Yet, complete with his Cotton On sale track pants and a bold Southern Cross tattoo that adorned half of his forearm, he was clearly no traditional Prince Charming.

It was a minute before happy hour. Prince got out his confetti gun for one hand and his water gun for the other and exclaimed, “LETS GET HAPPY, FAIRIES!”

The water clung to their shirts, the confetti fell from the roof and the drinks were half price.

 

 

“I just don’t understand,” slurred and unhappy sulking Cindy. “Why c-haaan’t I have more money to buy s-shhhhoes? I need more shoes.”

Unfortunately Cindy was a little worse for wear. She’d lost Matt, Rorie was still working at the bar and now she was talking to Alice who apparently wasn’t from Wonderland. Cindy had cornered the sober and innocent woman who was coming out from the toilet and decided to spill her entire life’s story to her, pinning the poor girl up against the wall.

“I mean,” she staggered, pointing at her and trying her hardest to regain her balance, something that she seemed to have lost, “WHAT AM I SUPPOSE TO DO, ABICE! ABICE?”

“Ah, my name is Alice.”

“WHAT EVAH, HONEY! Your name could be Alice for all I care. NOW LISTEN TO MEEEE!” Cindy rattled her new friend’s shoulders with added gusto. “No more money,” she had began to sob at this point, “NO MORE MONEY EQUALS NO MORE SHOES!”

“You came!” Matt announced.

It was Rabbit.

“Yes I did,” she said, slinking her arms around his neck.

“Happy unbirthday,” Matt whispered to her, a grin spreading over his face.

“Want to blow my candles out?” she asked, grazing her tongue along her front teeth.

They were in the thick soup of the dancing crowd, and even though the horrid 90’s music was blaring, and the crowd was thumping. It was just him and Rabbit in his mind. Just her and him.

“I scored something that can take us to Wonderland,” she said, pulling out a little bag filled with white powder from the inside of her top.

Matt licked his lips.

“Well, we are very late,” he said.

“Yes,” she almost hissed. “We are very late indeed and Wonderland is waiting for us.”

“Hmmm.” He dug his nose into her neck and laughed loud. “Let’s not wait any more then.”

X

After Ever After: Part Ten (Finale!) continues next Monday the 29th of February, 2016.
Creative credit for this incredible images of the After Ever After gang goes to Lina Zabaleta, whose tumblr you can check out at linapoligrafia.tumblr.com – thank you SO much Lina for this unbelievable illustration!
This narrative was edited by my wonderful editor: Kayla Marie Murphy. Contact: kaylamariemurphy@hotmail.com for any inquiries.
Subscribe to The Knight Life today! Enter in your email via the side panel [for desktop users] or scroll down [for mobile/tablet users].

After Ever After: Part Eight

Well hello there! Welcome to Part Eight of After Ever After; here you’ll find that things get a little serious. Who thought the fairytales could have some depth? I hope you enjoy Part Eight! As always, thank you for being here and for choosing to spend some time here on my blog!

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After Ever After: Part Eight

An hour later, Sandra was staring at herself in a hand mirror. In comparison to the others around her, she knew that she wasn’t unattractive, but she was entirely unrecognizable to who she once was. She tired her hardest to adjust, but it was difficult to breathe. The air was thick and changed on a regular basis. Colours were complex, things were dirty, emotions were high and things… things that she had never thought before began to unfurl in her head. Sandra was thankful though for her ‘roommates’ though, who had already proved to be comforting.

“Don’t worry about Godmother,” she recalled Cindy saying to her as they waited together in the car whilst Matt and Rorie ducked into Coles to get her a toothbrush, underwear and some credit for her phone. “Oh and I’d recommend just some crackers or gapes or something for your first meal.” Cindy eyes dilated and she sucked in a breath, the air passing her gums. “Trust me, you’re not ready to know what happens once you finish eating.”

The car eventually took Sandra to her new kingdom, a suburb called ‘Brunswick.’ This land was very urban, with an assortment of shops and cafes that looked either extremely artsy or borderline impoverished. Sandra couldn’t tell which motif they were truly going for. The people of this land who walked the streets of Brunswick were a mash up of hipster, retro, conservative and un-showered.

At the turn of the corner, down the lane and up four flights of stairs, Sandra was welcomed into her new castle. She took it all in. It was a combination of Salvo’s furniture, oriental teapots, splashes of colour and little lived-in homey knick knacks – a knitted rug over a sofa, little pot plants, melted down candles and posters of random bands and magazine inserts blu-tacked to the walls.

“Your new room is to the right, Sandra,” Cindy said to her after giving her a little tour of were everything was. “Rorie and I will take you shopping for basics tomorrow, if you like.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“You’ll need to activate your phone and then text Godmother, just to confirm that you have some sort of mobile communication with her. You’ll also need to set up your email account on the flat rectangle thing on your beside table, it’s called a laptop.” Cindy looked at the package that Sandra clung to her chest. “Have a read of your induction and if you have any questions, ask me. I would’ve liked somebody to be there for me.”

“Thank you.” Sandra looked into her new room and rubbed her lips together. “I think I’d just like to be by myself for a bit.”

“Of course,” Cindy nodded. She then she handed her the grey plastic bag full of the groceries that were bought for her. “We’ll come check in on you in a bit.”

“You’ll have to join us out tonight!” Rorie said from somewhere down the hallway.

Sandra looked off in the distance, then to Cindy, and then they nodded at each other before she closed the door. The space wasn’t big, but it had a large window with lots of light and background of ivy leaves. Sandra sat on the newly made bed. Beside the bed was a contraption that she hadn’t had in her homeland. It was flat, rectangle like and grey; the laptop. Beside the laptop was assortments of little things such as a reusable coffee mug, a box of tea and a satchel with stationary.

She took a few lungful’s of unpleasant air and opened up her induction. The first section contained basic information about her new identity, her name, age, and all the boring but necessary things for point of reference.

The second part was a simple and easily formatted history of Melbourne, with simple explanations about things that she assumed she needed to be on a need to know basis with.

The third section then detailed warnings of natural disasters, disease, stranger danger and other little things that naïve fairytale creatures like herself wouldn’t be educated about:

‘ ~ It is important to understand that villains exist within Melbourne. They may not be as obvious as the plot outlines in your story, but they do exist. Some may be alluring and others may be more evident. Stay cautious unless a sense of danger excites you.

~ In most cases in your new life, common sense will prevail as your new body adjusts, however in times of social uncertainty, take a deep breath and refer to an excellent beacon of knowledge: pop culture. This point of reference gives you the excuse to act like a spoiled brat, own a hideously small dog and pretend you are an individual.’

The last section dealt with issues of emotion.

‘ ~ As you continue to transition, your mind and body will become more susceptible to new emotions. While you will have previous experience to basic emotions, your thoughts and feeling will be heightened in Melbourne and as you grow into your new mind, it will offer several new dimensions that you won’t have experienced in the past. In times of great emotion, Melbourne offers a wonderful outlet for you express such stress: food. Please refer to the attached sheet ‘Comfort Food’. Nothing is without consequence, however, and such consequences can be found at ‘Gaining Weight/Flab.’’

The final sheets of the induction had an emergency contact list, details instructing her to open and check a thing called an email account, information and directions to local places such as the Grocery Store and the Laundromat, the local coffee shop, and a complementary bottle opener at the bottom of the envelope, ‘A basic human right,’ was attached to it, handwritten by who she assumed was Godmother.

She put down her introductory package and stared blankly ahead. Hours ago she had been living the same life again and again for, what, fifty, sixty years? Now, now she didn’t recognise herself. She was slap bang in some unknown unusual land and there was no direction, no rehearsal and no one writing her lines. There was no higher order who had pre-destined her life for her. What would she do now?

Now that she could do whatever she wanted.

No lines.

No movie moments.

No ever afters.

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After Ever After: Part Nine continues next Monday the 22nd of February, 2016.
Creative credit for this incredible image of Sandra White/Snow White goes to Lina Zabaleta, whose tumblr you can check out at linapoligrafia.tumblr.com – thank you SO much Lina for this unbelievable illustration!
This narrative was edited by my wonderful editor: Kayla Marie Murphy. Contact: kaylamariemurphy@hotmail.com for any inquiries.
Subscribe to The Knight Life today! Enter in your email via the side panel [for desktop users] or scroll down [for mobile/tablet users].

After Ever After: Part Seven

Happy Monday Armoury and hello again! Thank you for clicking on part seven to After Ever After and welcome back! I hope you enjoy Part Seven!

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After Ever After: Part Seven

Sandra White sat in the back seat of one of Godmother’s private cars. After their round of shots, Godmother thrust a large envelope into her hands and had rushed the four of them out of her office. She now sat on the left in the back of the car, staring out at what was called Flinders Street Station. There were so many people. They were all so odd. Sandra had never seen such a variety of perplexing characters. Tall, short (some even shorter than dwarves), thin, large, and dressed in the most unusual costumes.

This was, she had already decided, the most unusual experience that she had ever had. Everything was unscripted; she had no idea, not one clue, of what was going to happen next. People spoke out of turn, interrupted each other even.

“Inside there.” Rorie put a hand on hers and tapped her fingertips on the envelope in Sandra’s lap,“You’ll find everything you need to fit in here. Keypass, bank card, phone, sim card, Myki card, money.”

These words floated around her heard but she couldn’t make sense of them. Nothing made sense. Sandra couldn’t find the right thing to say, all she could manage being a soft “Mmmh” sound.

“I get it.” Rorie took her hand off her. “You’ll need some time to adjust.”

“Godmother isn’t really helpful,” Matt put in, raising his eyebrows, the afternoon sun grazing across his sunglasses.

“Amen to that,” Cindy said from in front seat. “Hey, do you think we could stop off for a coffee?” she asked the driver. “I’d even do a 7-Eleven one?”

“It’s just so … real?” Sandra managed.

“So much more than you think,” Cindy said, pointing to the convenience store up ahead. “Instead of actual trolls, there’s just trolls on Instagram.”

“Don’t even get me started on Twitter.” Rorie got out her iPhone. “Hey, do you know that David Schwimmer follows me?”

“Who?”

“Oh, no one important,” Rorie chuckled, her face tightened like she was in pain. “I’m so funny it hurts.”

“Where’s all the magic?” Sandra asked, gazing up at the sky.

There was a brief silence.

“The only magic here is in little coloured pieces of plastic that lets you buy things,” Cindy said.

“No potions?” Sandra’s lips trembled a little. “Nothing to take us back?”

“Back?” Cindy huffed as the car came to a halt. “As if that’s going to happen.” She turned around, her lips thinned. “No. There’s no magic here.”

“But where’s the plot? Where is the beginning, the middle, the end?”

“Life isn’t like that here, Sandra,” Matt told her, putting his hands together and cracking his knuckles.

“Sandra?” Sandra laughed at her new name. Her laugh then turned into a hysterical stream of babble. “No magic? No lines, no plot? What am I to do then?”

Cindy looked at Matt and Rorie, before they all said in unison, “Live.”

“Live.” She tried the word out for size. She then said it again. “Live.”

“Hey, does anybody want anything from 7-Eleven?”

“A can of Coke,” Matt handed her a five dollar note.

“Condoms,” Rorie winked. “And some gum.”

“Sure,” Cindy rolled her eyes and set her gaze on Sandra. “And you?”

Sandra just shook her head. “No, nothing for me.”

She pressed her hand against the streaked window of the taxi and felt something sting under her eyes. There wasn’t an overture, there wasn’t any opening titles, there wasn’t even any foreshadowing. This was her new home. This was her life. She was now Sandra.

“I’m c-crying?” she half-questioned, feeling the fat droplets pelt down her cheeks. “I-I’ve never cried before. It feels so awful.”

“Oh, you’ll do a lot of things for the first time here,” Rorie’s voice was light and empathetic. “But hey, you’ve got us, Sandra.”

“Yes,” she sniffed. “Yeah, thank you.”

Sandra then put her hand into Rorie’s and Matt offered a look of sympathy and silent knowingness as Cindy fetched her one-dollar latte, a can of coke, some condoms and a packet of gum.

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After Ever After: Part Eight continues this Thursday the 18th of February, 2016.
Creative credit for this incredible image of Sandra White/Snow White goes to Lina Zabaleta, whose tumblr you can check out at linapoligrafia.tumblr.com – thank you SO much Lina for this unbelievable illustration!
This narrative was edited by my wonderful editor: Kayla Marie Murphy. Contact: kaylamariemurphy@hotmail.com for any inquiries.
Subscribe to The Knight Life today! Enter in your email via the side panel [for desktop users] or scroll down [for mobile/tablet users].

After Ever After: Part Six

Hello everyone and welcome to the last character reveal for After Ever After! Part Six really gets into the grit of the story line, and again I have SO much fun writing this story. It was so refreshing look back at the first draft and improving it! I’m loving it all: I hope you are? Please let me know what you think!

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After Ever After: Part Six

A young woman was standing inside the bizarre magical mechanism. She had thick black hair with a styled straight fringe and a black choker necklace with a red heart attached to the middle. She wore a blouse with assorted apples printed on the fabric and a mustard button up skirt. The girl opened her heavy-lidded eyes and tired to take a step but fell flat on her face.

“Nice outfit,” Rorie gave an impressed nod.

“Nice entrance,” Godmother rolled her eyes and then clicked ferociously at Russell. “Aid the helpless girl,” she instructed. “Let the fairy dust fade off her and she’ll eventually come to.”

“I’m assuming she’s Snow?” Cindy offered, crossing her arms.

“Sandra,” Godmother said lightly, and though her cheeks rose, her lips arched and her teeth were visible, the expression on her face couldn’t really be called a smile. “Sandra White.” Godmother scrolled on the iPad for a moment. “Yes, yes. Sandra White, 20, Arts Student at Melbourne University—“

“20?”

“Arts student?”

A chorus of complaints echoed through the office.

“What’s all this?” Godmother swished back another generous mouthful of her cocktail. “An uprising?”

“Why does she get to be younger than all of us?” Cindy shook her head.

“Why does she not have to work?” Matt threw his hands up in the air.

“Why does she have such a flat chest?” Rorie asked, watching as Russell hoisted Sandra up and placed her with great caution on a vacant black air chair.

“Ladies, gentleman,” hummed Godmother, “enough of this anarchy.” She dipped into her handbag, twisted an intricate bottle of Bvlgari perfume and spritzed it on her inner wrist. “You were all assigned your positions within Melbourne by higher orders. I certainly,” she misted her décolletage and exhaled, “had nothing to do with it. Now,” she stood over them once more, her statuesque body looming over them, the feathers from her cape swishing from the movement, “let’s wake up Sandra White, shall we?”

“How exactly are you planning on doing that?” Cindy asked, her intentions genuine.

“A precise and delicate movement.” Godmother slunk over to the unconscious transferee. “You see, the transit from fantasy to reality is such a … disorientating process.” She looked to the three in front of her, all of them agreeing as they remembered what it was like for them. “It’s the exact cross between having a hangover, (something I personally have never experienced), and jetlag. As the dust fades, she’ll slowly come more alert. Of course, that’ll take too long,” Godmother curled a handful of thin fingers around the side of Sandra’s chin. “We’ll just have to slap her awake.” She then used her other hand to strike her pale and rosy cheek. Sandra’s eyes opened and spluttered as she came conscious.

The last thing she could recall was peace and serenity. Mere moments ago her eyes were closed and she was about to re-enact the ending scene to her life. Her head was resting on a delicate cushion, she was surrounded by the comfort of her woodland friends, and a well-orchestrated symphony played out their finale melody as she waited for her Prince Charming. He was well on his way, just as he was and would be for the rest of their life. He was arriving on a horse and, upon seeing her, he would bend down and open the coffin to kiss her. Ignite life back into her. Rebirth her.

Yet, when she woke up everything was suddenly very, very different. This had never happened before. She had been playing the same script for as long as she could remember. Her life was simple, rehearsed. She knew it inside and out, back to front. So, she clearly hadn’t got the memo. Where was she?

“I can’t believe you did that,” she heard a sharp female voice.

“It’s was the only way to wake her up,” said another female voice. Smooth, yet sharp. Villain, yet protagonist.

Her eyes were open, but she couldn’t define or focus on anything. There were five figures around her; that much she knew. She smelt unusualness; fragrances and oils and foreign scents that had never enter her nostrils before were suddenly overwhelming. Like water falling over her, all of her senses sharpened and her brain began to thump. It was as if she had eaten a thousand poisoned apples. She put a hand to her face and her knees began to shake.

“Where, am I?” She then shrieked. Her voice! Her cinematic sing-song voice was gone. It was deeper, almost raspy, and she now had a flat accent. “What’s happening?” She put her hands around herself. “Where’s my prince? Where’s my Ever After?”

She heard a sneer before a cold hand was placed on her knee. “Oh Sandra, this is your After Ever After.”

Sandra put her hands out, her eyelids hovering shut, and bent over. The obscurity began to refine and she tried her hardest to breath properly.

“In and out, inhale through the nose, exhale through the lip,” Cindy instructed her, doing the movements  in front of her.

“Russell, fetch a bucket,” commanded Godmother.

“Where am I?”

“Melbourne, darling. You’re in Australia.”

Sandra looked at the woman, and as her eyes adjusted to her, she leaned back into the chair. “Who are you?”

“Many things,” Godmother nodded. “A fashion icon, a martini drinker, an avid lover of the Kardashians,” she continued down the list like she was being interviewed by FAMOUS, “I’m a lover of fine dining, exquisite sheets, boutique shopping!”

“I mean,” Sandra’s chin drooped down, “what is your role?”

“Oh, my role.” She pursed her lips. “I’m Godmother. Well, the Godmother for the Melbourne Department, anyway. There’s one of us in every city, but,” her eyes darted left to right, “for all intents and purposes, I’m your Godmother.”

“So,” Sandra gripped onto the armchairs sides, “what am I doing here?”

“Well, usually I’d show you the induction video, but,” she tapped her Gucci watch, “appointments. Russell! A round of shots to welcome Sandra!”

There were a few minutes of glass chinking and silence whilst Sandra observed, feeling like her questions weren’t going to get her any answers. Well, at least for now. The three people who sat in front of her seemed familiar to her, but she really couldn’t put her finger on where from.

A sober and serious woman with cropped blonde hair sat in a grey coat, with bags upon bags surrounding her, looked at her inquisitively. The woman accepted a little glass filled with clear liquid with a curt and measured nod from the man named Russell.

A mysterious man with a dark hat slid his black sunglasses down to look her in the eyes. He uncrossed his arms and smiled. He took the glass from the man and pulled up the collar on his jacket.

The girl beside him had flowing long hair that changed colours like painted rain, from brown to blonde. The girl waved at her, taking the class and tilting it in her direction.

“Here,” the woman named Godmother handed her the last little vial of clear liquid. “Drink with us, Sandra.”

Feeling completely out of her depth, she accepted the glass and watched as everyone else raised their glasses at her.

“To the fourth roommate!”

“To the fourth roommate!”

She then studied them as they tipped the little glass back, and so, without knowing exactly what she was doing, she tipped the little vial back and allowed the liquid to enter her mouth.

X

After Ever After: Part Seven continues next Monday the 15th of February, 2016.
Creative credit for this incredible image of Sandra White/Snow White goes to Lina Zabaleta, whose tumblr you can check out at linapoligrafia.tumblr.com – thank you SO much Lina for this unbelievable illustration!
This narrative was edited by my wonderful editor: Kayla Marie Murphy. Contact: kaylamariemurphy@hotmail.com for any inquiries.
Subscribe to The Knight Life today! Enter in your email via the side panel [for desktop users] or scroll down [for mobile/tablet users].

After Ever After: Part Five

Hey everyone! I am SO excited for After Ever After: Part Five because you get to meet…. Godmother! I can’t tell you how much FUN it was to come up with Godmother’s character; she’s the central comedic relief for this pilot chapter, I just love her sass and unashamed attitude! She owns everything she is and doesn’t excuse herself for anyone. Not to mention she’s deathly stylish! Think Karen Walker mixed with Kris Jenner: love it! Haha!

Enjoy part five Armoury!

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After Ever After: Part Five

Forty-five glorious minutes later, Cindy Ella sashayed down Swanston Street, arms laden with exquisite bags of all shapes and sizes. Inside the bags stacked in neat rows were boxes upon boxes. Inside the boxes were shoes, wrapped in the softest tissue paper by thoughtful shop assistants.

Cindy was still intoxicated from the experience. The spotlight from the shoe store weakened her, the scent of fine fragrance and leather diffused all of her doubts and woes and sitting on quality seating, encircled by an army of adoring maidens, she finally felt like a princess again. It was a dream come true.

Now, back in reality, Cindy waited with the crowd outside the church on the corner of Swanston Street, and walked amongst them once the green man flashed. Cindy thought it to be odd that strange coloured little men decided when and when not people and cars crossed the road. Then again, there were many more strange things in the place. She then saw Matt and Rorie sitting on the steps of Federation Square, and the moment she saw them her face lit up.

“Cindy!”

“Hey guys!” she tried her best to hug them through the barrier of shoe boxes and ribbon.

“What’s all this?” Rorie peeked into the bags.

“Magic,” Cindy inhaled and her eyes closed like she was being swept up into a daydream. “I went shopping, as they call it, and I’ve never felt better.”

“I’ve definitely got to go shopping with you then,” Rorie nodded almost aggressively.

“Er, I don’t really get it,” Matt shrugged. “Anyway, let’s head over?”

“If we have too,” Cindy rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure if I’m ready for Godmother’s theatrics.”

Cindy linked arms with Rorie, Matt slid up with black sunglasses and, in the den of one of Melbourne’s busiest landmarks, the threesome walked among the culturally diverse, the pretentious hipster and the social elite, making their way across the street and up the steps of Flinders Street Station.

They halted at an inconspicuous armed guard in front of a burgundy door, who had a tiny little golden pin with the initials ‘D.S.S’ on his serious looking uniform. Oddly, Melbourne’s Department of Supernatural Services was not the most creative division of Human Resources and their head office and staff was lackluster and underwhelming at best.

The guard blinked at them once before opening the door for them. Cindy, Matt and Rorie headed up the thin staircase, its walls painted in an unflattering odd-salmon colour and then crossed over a tuna grey coloured carpet to the reception area. Instead of teapots, glass slippers and three bowls of porridge, the reception area’s most exciting object was a fake IKEA pot plant, minus the pot.

“They seriously need to sack their interior designer,” Cindy mentioned, screwing up her lips. “Her assistant isn’t here?”

All of a sudden, a long, shrill, “Daaaaaaaaaaarlings!” filled the corridor, Godmother making her presence known.

Even though the floor was clearly carpeted, Godmother’s Walter Steiger stilettoes clacked against the ground as she walked to them. In one hand, her early afternoon martini was half drunk, a cigarette filter with a smoking cigarette rested comfortably in-between her thin spider-like fingers in the other. Godmother looked as if she lived on a diet of half a pea and three litres of gin a day, and appeared as if her wardrobe came priority imported from Milan and New York. Her hair was precision cut, her makeup flawless, and her entire being reeked of glamour and panache. Her tiny, almost skeleton, frame was draped in some unspecified feathered creature, and even though she was tiny and wispy, her ego and presence could fill a cathedral.

“Come, come,” she purred and took a long drag of her cigarette, letting the ash fall onto the carpet. “Let’s get out of this abysmal excuse of an office and into my domain!”

Godmother opened the golden door at the end of the corridor and, as always, Cindy, Matt and Rorie were held breathless for a moment or two.

Godmother’s ‘office’ was at the furthest top of Flinders Street Station and was encased, practically saturated, in the skyscrapers of Melbourne city. Lush, Italian furniture, triple wicked black candles, walls of assorted liquor and gold and white accents filled the generous space.

“Sit,” she insisted, before she called out, “Russell!”

Russell ‘the love muscle’, Godmother’s assistant, came out from a door to left. Russell was from some unspecified country in Europe and he looked like a walking Calvin Klein ad. His ‘uniform’ was strictly tight short shorts and Timberland boots. Nothing else. Russell hustled over, his backside practically bulging out of his shorts as he carried six cocktails.

“Give each of our special guests a cocktail, sweetness.” Godmother’s eyes protruded as Russell leaned over in front of her. “Two for me.”

Moments later, sitting and with cocktails in hand, Godmother downed the last of her early-afternoon cocktail, tossed back the first of her new mid-afternoon cocktail in one gulp, and nested the other one in her hand.

“So,” she smacked her lips together, “we have lots of business to get through.” She lifted up her iPad and started tapping. “Shall we skip the pleasantries?”

“Ah, pleasantries?”

“Yeah, you know,” she tossed her hand in the air lazily. “That bit where I’m supposed to care? I’m mandated by the Department to check up on you, see how you’re going. You all know that I really don’t care.”

“Clearly,” Cindy said, dry and unimpressed.

“Oh, not like that,” Godmother rolled her eyes. “Come now, enough of that Russell,” she nodded at him twice, “fetch my bag.” She then looked back over at her charges. “We received your fourth roommate yesterday.” She flashed a set of recently bleached teeth at them. “Let’s get this over and done with. I have a facial in an hour.”

Russell handed Godmother her black Chanel bag, a large padded envelope sticking out of it. She took another drag of her cigarette, tipped the ash into a black marble ashtray and dropped the envelope on the table in-between them. “I’ll let you three do the honours.”

Cindy, Matt and Rorie studied the envelope for a long moment, before Rorie picked it up, Matt ripped it open and Cindy put her hand inside.

“Clearly she’s not used to feeling up a package,” Godmother winked at Russell and Cindy’s fingers tried to find whatever was placed inside. “Go a little deeper.”

With a sigh, Cindy plucked out what looked like a small black SD card. On one side it said “#4,” with the initials “D.S.S.”, and on the other side were tiny little letters stating it was “Made in China.”

“Russell, hit the lights,” Godmother instructed him. “Light a few candles, get the Transporter out.”

Cindy held up the little chip, and on either side of her Matt and Rorie squinted at it, their face full of intrigue.

“We have them manufactured there in China,” Godmother exhaled, a plume of smoke filling the air as she swished her martini, “and then the little chips sit in customs for weeks on end.”

The lights went out and several orange flames bounced about, perfuming the room with heavy exotic oils.

“Showtime!” Godmother clasped her manicure over the chip and handed it to Russell, who opened a cupboard and wheeled out what looked like a freestanding futuristic fridge. Russell then (much to Godmother’s pleasure) squatted down, slid in the chip at the front of the machine, flicked the switch on at its side, its insides beginning to shutter and fizz.

“Normally this is when I would explain the exact science and expert technique that is behind this machine, but our budget doesn’t really cater to that.” She downed the last of her drink and stood up. “All you need to know is that a cartoon 2D is being converted into a fully-grown Australian human.” She patted her cape as smoke frothed out of the machine.

The contraption then threatened to escalate to some sort of cinematic and climatic big budget scene, however it ended at a C-grade movie standard, with a barely audible ‘ding’ to indicate that it was finally done.

The door to the contraption then swung open.

X

After Ever After: Part Six continues this Thursday the 11th of February, 2016.
Creative credit for this incredible image of Godmother goes to Lina Zabaleta, whose tumblr you can check out at linapoligrafia.tumblr.com – thank you SO much Lina for this unbelievable illustration!
This narrative was edited by my wonderful editor: Kayla Marie Murphy. Contact: kaylamariemurphy@hotmail.com for any inquiries.
Subscribe to The Knight Life today! Enter in your email via the side panel [for desktop users] or scroll down [for mobile/tablet users].

After Ever After: Part Four

Hello everyone, happy Thursday! Let’s just get straight into it shall we?

I hope you enjoy the next instalment of After Ever After!

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After Ever After: Part Four

 

Cindy sat at her desk and tapped mindlessly into her computer. The head office of Ever After Agency was as colorful as a sheet of white paper, and Cindy, who was the admin/assistant for the owner who rarely made an appearance at the office, had so far had a stale and uneventful morning.

Refreshing her inbox, her interest spiked at an email that she had just received. Having only been there for just over a month, she didn’t get many emails, and this one was particularly fascinating. Who sent it? Feeling a surge of something other than tedium, she clicked it open as well as the accompanying attachment. Her screen went black before it lit up with an animation.

The video was of a little chinese take-out box. It spun around the computer screen until words in curly cursive font appeared with a rather flattering and romantic proposal.

 

Cindy. You and me tonight? Screw dining in. Let’s eat each other out.

 

The message then cleared and picture of one of her work colleagues photoshopped onto a male bodybuilder flashed on the screen.

With a groan, Cindy realised it was from Barry Perkins, the overtly sexually active, extremely dorky web consultant for their online dating service operator. Then, with an even more regretful sigh, she realised that Barry was approaching her desk, scooting over on his work chair, his actions distinctively comparable to a dog dragging his backside along a carpet.

“Crap,” Cindy whispered to herself and violently clicked out of the message.

Barry Perkins was a simple young man who looked younger than he actually was. He had gelled hair and a horny frantic smile that gave off the impression of an undeveloped frisky cartoon character, hyped up on a slosh of herbal Viagra and Red Bull.

Barry halted at Cindy’s desk, touched his own nipple, and let out a sensual sizzling sound. “Hey, sexy legs. Wanna grab some chinese after work?”

Cindy instantly felt the burning sensation of bile fester in her chest.

“Ah, no thankful,” she blinked quickly.

“But I made an animation and everything!” Barry grumbled.

“Look, Barry,” she squinted and him. With moody lighting, some stubble and a few shots of tequila, Barry might’ve then looked mildly attractive. “You’re advance are really nice but—”

“I’ll pick you up,” he insisted, his voice eager with the art of persuasion. “We’ll go get some dumplings and you can come over to mine and we’ll binge watch Game of Thrones for a few hours and then we can suck face?”

“Oh Barry, your offer is almost irresistible,” Cindy smiled forcefully, opened up her planner and then flicked through it forcefully, “but I’d rather stick chops sticks up my ass than go out with you.”

“Ooh,” his eyebrows erected. “Like in a kinky way?”

“Piss off, Barry!”

Simpering and defeated, Barry scooted off on his office chair. While taking a few moments regain her composure, Cindy was tapped on the shoulder by a soft hand.

“Cindy, darl?”

Cindy turned, recognising the lady from around the office but not as someone that she had properly met yet.

“I’m Pat, love.” Cindy raised her flushed cheeks in a polite smile. “I’m from Payroll.”

“Of course,” Cindy shook Pat from Payroll’s stubby little fingers. Pat was a big woman in a flowery dress and reminded Cindy of her retired proper fairy godmother who had left her wings at home.

“Darl, here’s your pay slips.” Pat handed two envelopes over to Cindy. “I know you have to chuff off now-ish, so go cash your cheques in and buy yourself something nice, love.”

Cindy took the two envelopes, turned her head to the side, and even thought she wasn’t sure why, she felt the odd sensation of the sun shine brighter and the faint sound of chords of harps playing in the background.

Cindy felt on top of the world. She had walked into the first Commonwealth Bank she found, flashed her new bank card that she had been given by Godmother in her initiation package at the teller attendant, passed her work envelopes over, and was now the owner of a healthy fistful of colourful bills of money.

Money, Cindy had decided, was this world’s magic. With the initial float of cash provided to her by Godmother and the Department of Supernatural Service, Cindy hadn’t needed to worry about money so far. That, and she hadn’t quite grasped the joy of having more than a few twenty dollar bills to buy her tram ticket, her coffee and her lunch.

With an hour until she needed to meet Godmother, Cindy walked a few blocks down the city, entered an arcade and began to take a look at the shop windows. They looked magnificent, enchanting even, and set her eyes on one particular shop window that seem to generate a magnetic pull, Cindy being its target.

The shop front looked like it was out of some foreign land that she hadn’t ever travelled to, some sort of cosmic, angelic retail fairytale. The shop windows were filled with the most enrapturing and delightful objects that Cindy had ever set her eyes upon … shoes. Shoes a-plenty, on high podiums, stacked on posh ladders draped in expensive white silk, on boxes, on cushions and on shelves. Straps, no straps, heels, wedges, flats, flats with bows, flats with dots, wedges with thick heels, wedges with bows, wedges with no bows.

“I’m home,” Cindy declared and, holding up her handful of money, a shop assistant opened the door for her as if her cash was a V.I.P pass into their store.

As the doors shut for her, and a glass of champagne was placed in her hand, Cindy felt, for quite possibly the first time, at home in this strange and bizarre new city.

X

After Ever After: Part Five continues this coming Monday the 08th of February, 2016.
Creative credit for this incredible image of Cindy Ella goes to Lina Zabaleta, whose tumblr you can check out at linapoligrafia.tumblr.com – thank you SO much Lina for this unbelievable illustration!
This narrative was edited by my wonderful editor: Kayla Marie Murphy. Contact: kaylamariemurphy@hotmail.com for any inquiries.
Subscribe to The Knight Life today! Enter in your email via the side panel [for desktop users] or scroll down [for mobile/tablet users].

After Ever After: Part Three

Hello again everyone! I hope you had a relaxing weekend and that your Monday treated you well! Today on my blog I am introducing you to my third modern fairytale character: Rorie Naps, A.K.A Aurora (Sleeping Beauty!) I loved, loved, LOVED writing this ‘pilot’ chapter. It was so much fun delving into theses characters, and to put a honest and modern interpretation on classic characters, so enjoy!

X

 

After Ever After: Part Three

Rorie was feeling a little conflicted. She sat at the kitchen table in her pajamas, a bowl of half-eaten Fruit Loops in front of her that were well on their way into turning to mush, thinking about the guy that was currently laying in her bedroom.

She tried to think of his name. Was it a normal-ish name, or something more exotic? Was he a Ben, or a Rodriguez? She remembered his bulging arms, (a bulging something else too), but she could barely remember his eyes or face. It was like he was a mashed up blur, the exact consistency of what her breakfast was becoming. This usually happened though, whenever she’d sleep with someone.

Rorie remembered back to just over a week ago, when she had transferred into Melbourne. It felt like a lifetime ago. She came out of big machine and plummeted to the ground. The last thing she remembered from her old life was being awoken by her prince (his name, too, she had since forgotten) from the kiss of true love. Rorie scoffed at the thought; as if that existed here. The next thing she knew she had three sets of eyes staring up at her: Godmother’s, Cindy’s and Matt’s.

In one distinct life-changing moment she was in a different world entirely, was given a new life, a new identity and a new body with feelings and urges that she had never had before.

It was called a vagina, she found out very early on. It lived in-between her legs and, while it functioned as a waste exit in one part, if handled appropriately, it could provide her with the most pleasurable feeling that could ever be experienced.

Rorie had never had a vagina, but then again there were many things that she had never had in the Kingdom where she had come from. These new and unexplored additions to her life excited her. They gave her a sense of fulfillment, a sense of purpose.

She forfeited her breakfast, dropping the silver spoon into the bowl. She was giving up on the Fruit Loops just like she had given up remembering the guy’s name.

She could hear his snores from here – loud and disruptive. Rorie sighed. She wished that he would dissolve into a cloud of smoke like magic. They had met last night at the bar she worked at, Kingdom Come, and after her shift and a few drinks later, Rorie brought the guy and a random woman home with her. Huge mistake. Not only was the woman awful at managing two people in the bedroom, but she was untalented with her fingers and her tongue. The same could be said for the guy, who had promptly gone to sleep the moment he arrived without having the decency to reciprocate the favour for Rorie. Some charming prince he was.

She checked her phone, and with a swipe and a few taps, she saw that she had a message waiting for her from Godmother.

How exciting! Her eyes settled on the name she used on her phone for Godmother. She was like the Fairy Godmother that no one wanted and was the very essence of everything that could go wrong in this world. But Rorie liked Godmother, and she (unlike maybe Cindy or Matt) did enjoy the fact that she was placed here in Melbourne.

Her old life was boring to say the least. An uneventful recycled re-telling of the same events with the same people, with the same outcome. Here, everything was unscripted. New characters weren’t foreshadows, villains could turn out to be the heroes, at times they could even be sexual partners. Rorie was happy with spontaneity, but cursed it when it gave her an awkward situation like this.

“Alright,” she said quietly to herself, the chair creaking against the floor as she stood up.

She made her way to the door of her bedroom, opened it, and looked at the nameless guy that lay in her bed. He was awake now and had his eyes set longingly on her as he stroked his bare chest with a knuckle.

“Hey,” he said in a hoarse voice that she imagined would be fitting for a soap opera or a fragrance commercial. “Come back to bed. I’m not done with you.”

“Well, I kinda am,” Rorie said, her voice measured and polite. “I’ve really gotta do some things around here. We’ll meet up later?”

“Later?” he sat up, his face screwed up in confusion. “Why not now?”

Rorie huffed, bent down and picked up the doona covering his body. She then threw the pile of his clothes that were on the floor at the end of the bed at his chest. “Get dressed. You need to leave now.”

“But maybe we could go for brunch? Coffee?” He pulled a worn out white tee over his naked chest.

“I don’t do brunch, I don’t do coffee,” Rorie grimaced before she took hold of his arm and dragged him out of the bed. “Don’t you get it? You were just some fun.”

“But we connected!” he protested, his voice winy and child-like. “You can’t just throw me out.”

“Ah, yes I can.” Rorie continued to drag him out of her bedroom, the guy managing to slip one ankle into his pants, and steered him to the front door to the apartment. She then threw his belt, wallet and shoes at him and he stared at her like an injured puppy.

“Bye—” she tried her hardest to think of his name, but the letters just didn’t come., “—Whatever your name is.”

X

After Ever After: Part Four continues this Thursday the 04th of February, 2016.
Creative credit for this incredible image of Rorie Naps/Sleeping Beauty goes to Lina Zabaleta, whose tumblr you can check out at linapoligrafia.tumblr.com – thank you SO much Lina for this unbelievable illustration!
This narrative was edited by my wonderful editor: Kayla Marie Murphy. Contact: kaylamariemurphy@hotmail.com for any inquiries.
Subscribe to The Knight Life today! Enter in your email via the side panel [for desktop users] or scroll down [for mobile/tablet users].