8: The Untold Story
The First of the TaleSpins Trilogy
8: The Previously Untold Story of the Previously Unknown 8th Dwarf was the story that restarted my journey as a fiction writer. I got an MFA in the discipline and had big plans, but my professional writing went a more business/marketing route. 8 was written as my original follow-up to The Nightmare Before Christmas sequels I discuss here and posted here. The first writing of mine to be published and available for people to purchase (99¢ ebook!), 8 features Creepy the 8th dwarf, an anti-hero of whom I’m particularly proud.
I then wrote two more original twisted fairytales, and that trilogy became my first book: TaleSpins. Over the years the response has been overwhelmingly positive and humbling. More such stories are always simmering somewhere in my mind.
Posted here for your enjoyment is the intro to 8. There are links at the end, including the audiobook version narrated by a famous movie star. (Honest).
8: The Previously Untold Story of the Previously Unknown 8th Dwarf
The stories we pass down from parent to child
Were once filled with darkness, but somehow turned mild.
We tweak and revise, and when all else fails
We choose to omit certain crucial details.
Until they're forgotten, and nobody knows
How a story originally, truthfully goes.
Take Snow White, for example. A popular tale
With plenty of unpleasant truths to unveil.
For instance, I’d wager that you didn’t know
Seven lived in that cottage … while one lived below.
It wasn’t always that way. They once lived as eight.
‘Til he changed into strange: staying up, sleeping late.
He ate less and less, turning skeleton-thin,
And shaved his beard down to a patch on his chin.
He was twisted and moody. A freak to the letter.
Calling him “Creepy” didn’t make things much better.
He had nothing in common with his cheerful housemates
Who were always so thrilled about things that he hates.
He had different notions of pleasure and fun
And he never agreed with the way things were done.
But each comment was heard as a selfish complaint
So he kept to himself. He practiced restraint.
But silence just made him a deeper enigma
Confirming his odd personality stigma.
‘Til one night at dinner, he’d had quite enough
Of their pointless, dwarfish, merriment stuff.
When a spider crawled slowly across Creepy’s bowl,
He grabbed it and showed it and swallowed it whole.
“That does it!” they said, and they locked him downstairs
In a cellar room, cold and in need of repairs.
From there he still heard them, their chatter and feet,
And he saw them through floorboards that didn’t quite meet.
He wondered how long they would keep up this game.
After all, he was just living up to his name.
The next morning the seven went back to the grind.
Not one looked back as they left him behind.
“Who needs them?” he asked himself, angry and hurt.
Then he stomped around, kicking his shoes in the dirt.
Night after night, the group showed they were fine
With their choice as they sat down to drink and to dine.
They carried on just as they had done before
And pushed guilt-free meals through a hole in his door.
For weeks it continued with no feelings expressed
Until one afternoon that was not like the rest.
While he sat there in silence beneath the wood floor,
An unwelcome creature came in the front door.
“Hello?” it called out in a voice scared and thin.
A reply was not needed. She just let herself in.
“How rude!” thought Creepy in sheer disbelief,
“Unless she’s a criminal. Some kind of thief.
If that is the case then it serves those dopes right
The front door unlatched, yet mine is locked tight!”
He quietly moved to the place in his tomb
Where he got the best view of the ground-level room.
She walked overhead, and he opened his jaw,
Surprised and transfixed by the sight that he saw.
Her bare feet were covered with cuts and scrapes,
But beyond that were far more intriguing shapes.
A layer of wrinkled-up cotton and lace
Covered gentle curves in the negative space.
His mind raced with thoughts not entirely clean
Seeing that which was clearly not meant to be seen.
He thought that perhaps he should look well away
Then answered, “Why should I? They made me this way!”
He tried but he could not get sight of her face
As she moved around, no doubt robbing the place.
She soon moved right toward him, the barefoot brunette
To offer what should be his best glimpse yet.
He readied himself and looked to the sky
But all he got was a cascade of dirt in his eye!
Some other sound followed her steps in that room.
A scraping? No . . . sweeping! She was . . . using a broom?
He wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t seen it.
She broke into their home to do nothing but clean it!
When he found he could once again see straight and blink
He heard water and dishes. She was filling the sink.
And when hit by the smell of a slow-cooking meal,
He thought to himself: “Is this lady for real?”
Soon after was silence. There was something amiss.
When the others got home, they’d think he did all this.
They’d think he felt sorry and was making amends.
But he had no such plans for his seven ex-friends.
Come home they did, and they “ooohed” and they “aahhhed”
At their lame little home with the tidy façade.
He then heard the creak of each wobbly stair
And a girl-shriek confirmed that the Maid was still there!
He heard one of them say: “You can live here with us
If you cook and you clean and you don’t make a fuss.”
She seemed quite content to accept the raw deal
And made each of them wash and sit down for his meal.
The dinner talk soon turned to party plans.
All she did was show up, and she had seven fans.
They laughed, and he told himself: “Don’t get excited.”
Because he, for certain, would not be invited.
Did they think he would spook her with one of his faces?
Or touch her in inappropriate places?
He won’t even be mentioned, lest the “darling” get scared.
They could have their dumb party for all that he cared.
He was kept up for hours by the night’s jubilee.
The dancing and laughing went on until three.
The seven left early for work the next morning
Without mention of him. Not even a warning.
So he watched what he could from down under the floor.
A practice he practiced ‘til quarter to four.
That’s when a sudden, surprise knock on the door
Came so loud and so firm it was hard to ignore.
He heard a “good day” from some raspy old crow
Then their chat played to him like some radio show.
She was selling a shawl made of cottony lace.
He imagined the interest on the Maid’s unseen face.
But she pleaded no money at which thereupon
The old visitor implored her to “just try it on.”
… Curious to find out what happens next? Click the cover below to check out TaleSpins …
OR if you’re an audiobook fan, click the image below to see a video preview featuring art from the comic book adaptation of Creepy the 8th dwarf’s story.
Audiobook purchase links are on the YouTube page.
UPDATE: The intros to all 3 TaleSpins stories are up. Find the other 2 via these links:
The Plight & Plot of Princess Penny
Thanks for reading! Coming up next: intros to the other two TaleSpins stories. Be sure to subscribe so you won’t miss a thing!
