Once upon a Time

Once Upon a Time

A blaring alarm informed Melissa Evans that is was Monday. She groped for the snooze button from beneath her down comforter. She rose from her bed, running a hand through her thick brunette hair. She looked over at the clock on the wooden nightstand.
6:30 a.m.
It’s easy to wake up if you never fall asleep. She thought.
Melissa stumbled across the hardwood floor and into the cold tile bathroom.
Half an hour later, Melissa Evans walked out of the Starbucks on her way to work. Armed with a cup of tall, black, Decaf, she rushed the four blocks to the subway. Dropping two dollars in the homeless man’s cup, she weaves through the crowd onto the steel train. Sipping her coffee, Melissa brushes her hair out of her face and opens the leather messenger bag laying on her lap. She pulls out several professionally bound manuscripts. Her light brown eyes read the first pages.

Blueberry Yogurt
A young girls’ story of
life and love.

By: Melissa C. Evans


Tears of Silence
A collection of stories
of Teenage Depression.

By: Melissa C. Evans


She frowned at the page in frustration. An inaudible announcement came over the train’s intercom system. Melissa hurriedly shuffled the papers and forced them back into her bag. Swallowing her last gulp of coffee, she stepped off the subway onto the platform and up the concrete stairs.
Blinking at the morning sunshine, Melissa Evans turned at the corner and trekked the route to the publisher’s office with hopeful enthusiasm. Turning on the heel of her leather pumps, she grasped the brass door handle to the office of Emerald City Publishing.
Entering the lobby was entering the fated city itself. Dozens of shades of bright greens and teals and turquoise filled the walls, furniture, and ceiling in a magical emerald haze.
Taking in all this green, Melissa fixed her eyes on the pale, blonde receptionist and trudged to the (green) marble desk. Her footsteps echoed off the shimmering stone floor.
“Good morning.” The blonde receptionist gave a forced smile greeting Melissa as she reached the desk and placed her bag on the counter. “Can I help you?”
Melissa gave a trembling look of acknowledgement. “Yes, I believe I’m here to see…” She reached into a pocket in her leather bag, producing a small green and silver business card.
“I’m here to see Mr. Knox. You see, I have some manuscripts…”
Melissa stopped abruptly because the pale woman behind the desk had already picked up the black plastic phone and started pressing buttons. She muttered into the receiver. Reaching over to her computer, she scrolled down and clicked a few things on the screen. A moment later, the pale receptionist returns the phone to its cradle and looks up at Melissa.
“Take the elevator over there.” She points to a darkened corner. “Mr. Knox’s office is on the third floor. It’ll be the gold door at the end of the hallway.”
She said this looking down with less enthusiasm than the piece of broccoli stuck in her teeth.
Melissa Evans thanked her and carried her bag over to the polished brass elevator with a large “Emerald City” logo etched upon the sliding doors. The button labeled 3 just inside the door had a silver leafed garland encircling it, clearly appointing its superior state.
Another ornately decorated door led to the Editors office. The head of the publishing company that turns out the top selling books every year for the last twenty years. The leader of the company that shared the most profit with its up and coming authors. The man who would make or break Melissa Evans. She knocked on the cold steel with a trembling hand.
“Come in.”
Opening the door, Melissa blinked at the sight of his office. The only solid wall in the entire suite was the one she just came through, for the others were nothing but large windows. Large, leafy green plants thickly lined the shimmering window walls, making the room look like a clearing in a rich jungle.
“You a ‘Melissa Evans’?” A gruff voice came from the bulky man behind the cherry-wood desk. He was wearing a white dress shirt stretched across his massive belly beneath red striped suspenders holding up gray dress slacks. He leaned over an appointment book lying open on his desk, blinding Melissa with the glare coming off his shiny, balding head.
“Yes sir, you wanted to see me about my manuscripts?” She took a few cautious steps towards the man, clutching her briefcase.
He finally found her application on top in his inbox on the counter.
“Melissa Christine Evans….born May 3rd, blah, blah, blah, ….graduated from Sycamore High School, blah, blah, blah, ….hometown; Cincinnati, Ohio, blah, blah, blah,….just received Bachelor’s of Literature from NYU. Very nice.” He stuffed the paper into his filing cabinet and snapped it shut.
“Professor Michaels thought very highly of you. She sent about four references and a dozen emails. So, what do you have for me?”
Melissa produced the packets from her bag and laid them on his desk with a final squeeze.
Mr. Knox shuffled through them before looking up at her.
“This might take a while. We have your number, I’ll call you as soon as I’m done. I’ll tell you what I think and we’ll figure things from there. Alrighty?”
“Yes sir.”
Melissa turned from the desk and walked out the door.

* * *

She returned to her apartment and called her parents, her sister in Chicago, her best friend a few blocks down, and her favorite cousin from Kentucky, all to tell them how it went. The all wished her the best of luck, but her mother warned her that people in New York aren’t friendly, and might crush Melissa’s sensitive spirit.
“It’s not that New Yorkers aren’t nice people (‘nice’ was a bit forced.), its just that, you’re brilliant to the correct audience, Melissa.”
Melissa began to bash her head into her pillow holding the phone from her ear.
“I’m okay, Mom. This city is huge-”
“Full of thugs who will mug you in broad daylight.”
“Full of other publishers who will like my work, truly like my stuff. That day will come Mom.” I hope that day is within 3-4 days, she thought. “I just have to keep waiting.”
Melissa could hear her mother sigh on the other end and knew she was thinking.
“Alright. Go, go make our dreams come true, honey.” Her mother reassured.
“Thank you mom. Love you.” Melissa cooed.
“Love you too sweetheart. Bye.”
Melissa smiled to herself as she set down the phone. I will make it, she thought. I wont give up.

* * *

Five days later, Melissa was returning to her apartment after an hour of grocery shopping to find a message on her answering machine.
“Meelicia Devens,” Melissa recognize the whiny voice of Knox’s receptionist. “This is Cookie Crompton from Emerald City Publishing. Mr. Howard Knox has read your application and the required manuscripts. He wishes to have a meeting with him Tuesday, October 17th at 2:45 p.m. We thank you for your time and enthusiasm.”
Melissa walked with shaking legs as she carried her bags to the kitchen. Laying them on the plastic counter, she ran her hand through her hair.
“He wants to have a meeting with me?” She said out loud to herself nervously as she began to pace back and forth across the tiny kitchen floor. “Does that always mean he likes it, or ‘here’s your stuff back. It’s crap.’ Or is it a ‘way to go Evans, this one will make Bestseller it will.’ Or, maybe even, ‘This is the best piece of work I have seen in my many years’.” She sank to the kitchen floor, sighing. “ ‘ And that is saying something’.”

* * *

Melissa flew the route to the publisher’s office that day with a hopeful spring in her step.
“Good morning.” Melissa smiled to the grumpy receptionist who was chewing her tongue and pointing towards the elevator.
Up to the third floor and down the hall, Melissa was once again in Knox’s office. He was sitting in his chair with his feet on the desktop the same as the last time Melissa was in this room. She took a deep breath and stepped up to the desk once more.
“Mr. Knox?” She smiled politely.
“Unh?!” Mr. Knox grunted and looked up, now noticing that Miss Evans was there. “Oh, oh. Evans, Evans…” He removed his feet from the desk and began to rummage through the papers on the counter, muttering. Finding what he was looking for, his head reappeared above the counter with the bound manuscript in hand.
“Yes, here. I read your little story.” He looked up at Melissa and raised his eyebrows.
“It’s crap.”
Melissa’s heart dropped
“Ex-excuse me?”
“ ‘Blueberry Yogurt,’ The chick goes on spring break with some other chicks, they party on, she don’t want to, girl gets sad, girl meets guy who also no like party, how sweet, blah, blah, blah, girl goes back home, guy never calls, girl cries, girl learns to never trust guys who can’t handle beer.” He throws the papers fiercely onto the counter.
“Thank you for your time Evans, but this office sells books, not pre-teen trash novels.” He returned to moving papers around on his desk before looking up again at Melissa’s confused and upset face.
“You can get out of my office now.”


The walk back to her apartment was windy and cold. The brisk air cut at her cheek and whipped her hair back. The cool breeze made her tears burn worse. She stomped her boots hard against the pavement and wheezed and sniffled as she sped home.
Flopping down lifelessly on the bed, she saw all her childhood dreams of becoming a writer being swept out from under her like a dust bunny from under the refrigerator. Kicking off her shoes she stumbled to the kitchen for some comfort food; ice cream, mac n cheese, and beans n weenies, food from a small town as her dad would always say. She searched the shelves only to find them missing these key items.
Just great, she thought, Right when I need them they’re no where to be found.
Pulling on her coat and tennis shoes she grabbed her keys and headed once again out the door.

Weaving quickly around a man on his cell phone, Melissa slammed into a teenager with a big coat.
“Oh! Sorry!” She turned just slightly to apologize, then felt something cold and hard hit the back of her head.
Then, all she remembered was speeding through the icy air and hitting the ground with a loud thump. And everything going black.

“Do you think she’s okay?”
“I dunno.”
The girl opened her eyes only to see fuzzy shapes and a bleary gray sky. Two shapes were hovering over her. She blinked her eyes and brought them into focus.
“She don’t look so good.” The left blur said, “You okay, kid?”
The girl shook her head slightly mumbling “Yeah, I’m….fine.” She fully opened her eyes to take in the creatures above her.
She let out a piercing scream.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!! WHAT ARE YOU??!?!?!?” She was screaming staring wide-eyed at two of the strangest creatures she had ever seen. The one that prodded her had a chubby round face and a brown tufted beard and sideburns. But on either side of his balding head were two little knobby black horns. He wore a little torn dirty coat over his bare chest which was that of a stout little man, but from the waist down he was a sandy brown goat, even with a wiggly little tail and small black hooves.
The she-goat next to him (She thought it was a she, it had less hair on its face and a slimmer goat body) had fair skin, a pale blue sweater and had a smooth white body of a goat.
Melissa sat up as the goat-people watched her. The man had kind eyes with a sense of caring. The woman looked confused.
Melissa finally got a chance to notice where she was;
She was on a hard dusty dirt road in the middle of a field of tall trees. The pale gray sky peeked through the leafy blanket of the treetops. The woods were dim despite it being mid-morn. A chill breeze swept mysteriously past Melissa and sent a shiver of warning down her backbone.
The wind whispered loud enough to be heard as it rattled the tree branches.
You should not be here. Something is coming for you, and it isn’t friendly. You must not stay in these woods. You should not be here.
She looked around at the trees and at the goat couple.
“Did you hear that?!” She cried.
The goats looked at each other.
“Hear what?”
“Someone was whispering, could-couldn’t you hear it?” She looked up at them confused. Surely she wasn’t hearing things.
The goat people looked at her like she had hit her head.
“Come here honey,” The she-goat reached for her hand, “Its much to cold for you to be out here, come inside and we’ll fix you up some nice root water.” She smiled politely.
Melissa stood up, afraid to follow these creatures but not wanting to stay outside with the woods that could talk, she went with them to a small hut down the dusty path.
It had a small swinging door at the entrance and Melissa had to stoop to enter its cramped quarters. The inside was built like a small stable with two stalls in one side. But in the other corner had a table and chairs for guests and a fireplace with a black iron kettle. How a goat could boil water confused Melissa. But then how a goat could have a persons body was beyond her too. The woman goat handed her a cup of steaming brown liquid.
“The weather does seem up for it dear. It could have been a domcurr the child heard.” The woman sat sipping her drink.
“It couldn’t have been a domcurr. I mean, yes, they live in these woods but it wasn’t nearly cold enough for one to speak, let alone to a non-magical creature. No offense child.” The man contradicted. He noticed Melissa’s confused look and explained.
“Domcurr’s are guardians of the forests, spirits, of past sorcerers and fairies. They can speak through the wind to one person only, that’s why we couldn’t hear it. They usually whisper quiet little hints on your travels; “A small town lies ahead, the old woman is kind” things like that. What did this one tell you?”
“It-it said I shouldn’t be there. Something’s coming, and its not friendly. That I should get out of the woods.”
At these words, the couple exchanged frightened, perplexed glances. The man turned towards Melissa.
“You are not from around here are you?”