(Note: The following story was written as a part of John Kenyon's "update a fairy tale as crime fiction" contest at Things I'd Rather Be Doing. Let's just pretend I live in California or Colorado so this is posted before midnight-fifty.)

UPDATE: I have removed the full text of the story due to the publication of the Grimm Tales anthology. Information on the anthology here.

(excerpt below)


I could tell you what did me to the deep you see, but you wouldn't believe it. Nary a word. There I am, hoping, praying, dressing out and making the rounds, looking for a bit of work to put some money by, what with my Albert blowing his wages down the pub 'fore he gets them. Yes, I tell the darling couple, I know a nursery like the back of my hand. Two of my own blighters at home. No truth there, but my sister had one once. What's to know?

And what can happen on the first day? Not a thing, I think. We'll stay in the room and I'll change the little one's drawers and straighten up the house a bit. Catch forty winks. A bite to eat from lunch. Easy as pie. Only the lady's a liar, same as I am. That's no baby. Babies you wrap up and coo at, they sleep all day and when you put them down for the night, it's rock-a-bye, good night, and straight on until morning.