The Six Swans

The Fender CEO walked around the streets of New York City, unable to find his limousine. He sighed angrily to himself. Had his hunt for stores to house multiple Fender accessories not taken so long, his phone wouldn't have run out of battery, and he would not be wandering around the New York City streets in search of his limo driver.

He turned the corner, ending up on a seemingly empty street. Thinking nothing of the oddity, he walked down it at a slow pace.

"Are yeh lost?" a voice asked from the alleyway he passed.

The CEO turned to the owner of the voice, eyes falling on a small, hunched-over woman clothed in a dingy cape.

"Um, yeah," he hesitated.

"Can I help yeh?"

"Sure. Do you, by any chance, have a phone on you that I could possibly use? I need to call me driver and find out where he's parked."

"I do. On one condition," a smirk formed on the elderly woman's face, more wrinkles becoming visible.

The CEO took no notice of her crooked smirk, his mind set on returning home to his seven children.

"What would that condition be?"

"Marry my daughter. I assure you, she is extremely beautiful."

"Very well. Take me to her," he agreed.

Divorce was an option if necessary.

"Follow me," the woman dragged her feet to a nearby apartment complex.

He followed on her heels, not desiring to get lost and loose his only chance to get home. The woman opened the door and stepped aside. She motioned for the man to enter; he did so. His eyes traveled around the small apartment, taking in its messy state.

"Mary," the old woman hollered.

A woman entered the room dressed in a cap similar to that of the old woman.

"Yes, mother," Mary said.

"Yeh and this man shall be married. Pack yer things," the woman instructed.

Mary nodded and left the room. The CEO could not deny that the woman's daughter was, in fact, beautiful but he could not help the feeling of horror that overcame him when he looked upon her. He could find no reason for it and simply dismissed the feeling. Mary returned to the room, a large, black leather bag in hand. The old woman held a phone out to the CEO. He thanked her and punched the numbers he had memorized for such a situation into the phone.

"Hello," a lazy voice drawled.

"Morty, it's me. I need you to come pick me up."

"Where are you?"

The CEO looked to the old woman. She gave him the address of the apartment complex and the apartment number, which he repeated to his driver.

"I'll be there in a few," the driver said and hung up.

The man returned the phone to the elder woman.

"He'll be here in a moment," he stated.

Silence overtook the room. The CEO stared at the old woman's daughter, his thoughts turning to those of his children. How would they take the news? Would Mary treat them well? He doubted the answer to that question would be yes. How would he keep them safe? There would be no way they could stay at home with their soon-to-be stepmother. Their relatives lived too far away. Adoption was surely out of the question, as it would tear the CEO apart.

The children could live together in their own home.

The thought sparkled in the man's mind. He could buy them a penthouse in New York City. All expenses would be taken care of by him of course. He only wanted his children to have the best life possible.

He would visit them as much as possible, claim to be on a business trip of some sort. The soon-to-be stepmother would never find out.

It was settled. He would call right before the wedding that was scheduled for the day of his return due to the old woman's persistence. A friend would bring his children to safety. They would not be able to attend the wedding.

A horn honked from outside, pulling the man from his thoughts. The old woman hugged her daughter. In that moment, the CEO realized how much the pair resembled stereotypical witches.

'Of course,' the man thought bitterly to himself, 'the stepmother of my children turns out to be a wicked witch.'