The Fairy Queen’s Lover

by: Valentino Incanto Profferi

©Valentino Incanto Profferi 2009

The story told here is utterly, fictitious and any resemblance between the characters herein or the events depicted and any true incident depicted by the Fairy tale is completely coincidental and unintentional.

Gripping the Briar pipe in his deep outer pocket by the bowl Steven pushed his way through the wood door, inlaid with stained glass, with his left foot and emerged into the dark little tobacconist from Ravenswood Lane leaving a dark foot print on the outside of the door. Shaking the water droplets from the cap in his hand now, he shook his head slowly as the big man mad his way across the smoking room to the far side of the counter.

From two of the leather wingback chairs came a familiar greeting from an unseen face with a friendly voice. Steven grunted back without slowing his pace and disappeared through a little wooden door with no handle that swung out over a narrow staircase leading into the basement. Trailing his large hand along the wall of the narrow and dark staircase, he found and tugged the drawstring that turned on the basement light as he stepped off the last step.

For a few minutes, Steven stood before the thick white iron water radiator under the window with his trench coat still dripping into the dark spot his wet boots and coat had made on the rug while he warmed himself. Now that he was warm and back inside he was glad that his adventures for this night were over. Steven felt that his hair must be a little whiter already tonight and that by tomorrow there would see age wrinkles on his face from the fright. After placing his cap on the knob at the top of the coat stand he removed his dark brown coat, took out his pipe, tobacco purse, wallet, lighter and nail and placed them on the table and then slung the coat over one of the large hooks by its collar. Taking up his pipe and wallet he stuffed them in his trouser pockets of the soft brown wool slacks. Steven adjusted his belt then picked up his other belongings in one very large pale hand.

With his customary wide gait Steven made his way back up to the shop thumping the face of the steps with his toes before raising his feet. He came around the glass-topped counter and took a seat in one of the leather wingback chairs with a little round table next to it with a glass ashtray set in the center of the wood. As he settled into the thick warm brown leather seat he deposited the tobacco purse, lighter and nail on the table and pulled his pipe out to sit on its flat-bottomed bowl. He closed his eyes and remembered how the forest had looked as he had run through it in the rain earlier. As he remembered, Steven went pale and began to exhale heavy damp sighs feeling the fear and tension in him again. He had got away finally.

He suddenly stood up with a heavy sweat on his brow and a chill in his spine. What a relief it was to be standing in the cozy smoking room of Mary and Roger's Tobacco Supplies in Menlo-Atherton. He pinched the side of his right hand just to see if it would hurt, it did thank goodness. Waddling slightly he took a few steps up to the row of mason jars atop the counter, neatly labeled and full of various types of tobacco. Behind the row of jars sat Mary in her blue and white full-length dress in matching pumps and ribbons around her waist and her ponytail. With a smooth smile and a quick push of one freckled arm, she stood up before Steven with her full lips turned up at the sides smoothing her dress with one hand. Her long red hair was neat and well fixed like the rest of her. She politely asked Steven how he was doing and pointed out that it had been months since they had seen him in town. Steve had just been planning to ask for a fill of his regular Bourbon blend when he felt the shock of her comment.