The Cure

 

The visiting room was divided by thick plastic sheeting which was translucent at best; the figure on the other side only a hazy shadow.
“I can help you,” echoed a voice through the speakers. 
The voice was strange, and Delilah held little hope for his promise.
“I can cure the regent’s wife,” the voice continued.
She leaned against the plastic, in a vain attempt to make out his features.
“Tell the guards you have the cure, I will do the rest.”
“Why would you do this for me?” she asked, skeptical.
“You must help me in return.”
“If this works, I will do anything.” Curing the plague, if possible, would surely save her family. No one escaped the underground prison network, and no one survived for long. Her father had failed to cure the plague, and had been imprisoned for it. Could this stranger truly do as he had promised?
"Good," was his satisfied reply.

 

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A futuristic twist on when Rumpelstiltskin first visits the miller’s daughter.
Copyright © 2013 by Marie Chavez

The End

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