Fantastic Fridays: Resistance (from Fabled)

Fabled

Fantastic Fridays: Resistance (from Fabled)

FabledAs we dive deeper into Fantastic Fridays, I am pulling out one of my favourites.

I know. Storytellers are not supposed to prefer one tale over another. Let me invite you into the secret truth room of writers. We totally have favourites. They may change over time. But we absolutely do.

And so, I hope you enjoy this taste of fairytale noir!  Resistance from Fabled: 17 Tales You Think You Know.


Snow had been waiting days for a message from her sister.

When they were children, they promised their mother they would never leave one another’s side. But in these days of subterfuge and terror, they chose the greater good over their personal bond.

Snow wanted to be the more adventurous of the two sisters. Maybe then she wouldn’t feel guilty, wondering if their mother was watching with disapproval from the other side. She lowered her eyes in silent apology.

Then she gazed out her window on the wintery Parisian evening. Snow wished that the view felt romantic. She was sure it did at one time, before Paris had fallen to the Nazis and she was torn from her sister’s side.

Her heart ached to know that Rose was safe. If it were up to her, she would be combing the countryside searching for her sister. But when they had watched the Germans march into Paris, together they decided their fate.

Rose would risk her life in the dark alleys and hidden corners of the country. And, as the dutiful and more innocent one, the job fell to Snow to provide the smokescreen for their illicit doings.

Snow had no qualms about the work they did for the resistance. She believed in the cause with all of her heart. But that didn’t stop her stomach from sinking when she didn’t hear from Rose.

The silence was confirmation that Rose was deep undercover. And as the older of the two, Snow felt responsible for what happened to them. Even though she could never deny her sister acting on her passion and duty.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

Snow’s head turned toward the door. She hadn’t expected a visitor. This was either a trap or a very bad sign. Either way, she did not want to open that door.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

The rap sounded insistent. She hadn’t taken the precaution of turning off her light while she stared out at the darkening night sky. So whoever was on the other side of her apartment door knew she was home. And Snow could tell the knock was not going away.

Dammit. She couldn’t risk annoying the neighbours. Or have them wondering why she was receiving visitors at this time of night. Attention was always dangerous.

Snow relinquished her window perch. As she stepped toward the door, she silently picked up her small palm-size revolver from its hiding place in her bed. She held it delicately behind her back and moved swiftly toward the person waiting on the other side of the door.


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Kate Tremills
kate@katetremills.com
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