Lucid Waking

Archive for the ‘Fairy Tales and Fables’ Category

The Dark Kingdom

        Thirteen years. She had walked thirteen years…for what? She stared at the closed door and then glanced back at the bottom of the dusty stairs. She took a deep breath and pushed open the large mahogany door.
        The room was painted white with gold and black accents. The dust on the furniture faded its color and cobwebs hung limply from the peeling painted ceiling. There in front of her, right above where the bed should have been if it was still in tact, was a tarnished silver mirror. Her stomach dropped at the anti-climax.
        “That’s it?” she found herself saying. “I’ve traveled how long, how far, to get to this worthless piece of metal?” She stopped herself from screaming in frustration.
        “You stupid girl, the best gifts are those that vanity overlooks.”
        She turned around towards the door, but no one was there. She looked again at the mirror and it clouded over: a dark purple with milky lavender clouds bubbling behinds its surface.
        “Tell me then, Mirror. If I followed the prophecy exactly, why do I not receive my award? Why am I not queen?”
        The mirror laughed. “You are; in your own rotten kingdom.”
        The sky outside got dark and the songbird’s chirping turned to the cawing of crows. The white paint melted off the walls to reveal solid stone. The tapestries of heroics turned to those of massacres and the subtle reds of innocence became oranges and blacks of carnage. It was still a beautiful place in its own right. The trees had a dark elegance to them and the walls were no longer peeling with paint. The dust had cleaned up and everything reflected the light from where the new candles were burning.
        “Well, though I have to play the part of the wicked witch, you are still my mirror. No amount of evil will distract me from that!”
        “As you wish.”
        She chuckled. “That’s right.” She started pacing around the room feeling the dark elegance of the new décor. She had nothing for angels and nymphs, anyway. The new wolves and dragons and gargoyles were much more her type of minions. She smiled sweetly and turned to the mirror.
        “We’re here for an eternity with nothing to do. Give me servants, give me power, give me a kingdom to be feared. If I am going to be the wicked witch, I have to be the most infamous and feared. That’s the problem with your punishment.”
        “It wasn’t a punishment, but a statement of fact. But it is done as you commanded.”
        She looked out the window and saw the maids and servants bustling about. She spotted the carriage garage over on the other end of the estate. She saw guests being escorted to her second dining room for supper or tea or whatever they dared eat or drink. She smiled again. She was starting to like this curse.
        “Mirror, mirror, on the wall…who is the fairest of them all?”
        The mirror was silent.
        “Fix that,” she snapped. She felt her facial structure changing and she fought her urge examine the magic taking place.
        “Now?”
        “You, your highness.”
        “Good,” she started out of the room. “I’m going to meet some guests for tea, don’t make me come back up here and take a candlestick to your face.”
        The mirror watched her leave and let down a heavy sigh of relief. “The fairest,” it laughed as loud as it dared, “for now.”

Once Upon a Time (No. 5)

            I was the youngest daughter of three. My sisters were terribly vain and whenever our father would go to the Fair, they would ask for material things. My mother left the family while I was at a young age, but she left behind a satin purse where her name, Rose, was embroidered. I did not want a purse; I had no use for one after living at home with my father and two sisters all my life. I asked for a red rose.
            My sisters spent their days conceiving of all the rich and wonderful men they could marry with the new dresses they were about to get when Father returned home. Such daydreaming was not above me, but I knew better. It was going to be arranged and no matter how much I disliked my future husband, there was nothing to deny it. None of the villager’s sons were very nice or handsome and I must admit, you had to settle for one of those traits or the other, never both.
            Father came home and forgot the red rose. My sisters were ecstatic and reveled in the fact that I had no gift. The next time my sisters asked for jewelry and I, a red rose. Again, my father forgot. By this time I was tired of getting harassed and did not care for the rose except that it was the only gift that I would actually cherish. Though it wasn’t as useful as a dress or slippers, I wanted to distance myself from my sisters and did not care about appearing beautiful. Sure, I wasn’t the prettiest of my sisters. I was not slender or graceful and my structure was thick, my hair was thin and my face was covered in blemishes. I would lie threefold if I said I didn’t care, but I didn’t see anything to do about it.
            The third time Father set out, he came back with a red rose. However, he also said that having this rose trapped me into marriage with a stranger, whose father he bought it from. Quite a price to pay for something I was not so keen on having in the first place! I wish my father had recognized that I was not upset that he came home empty handed, but he aimed to please all of his daughters, and I was no exception. So I put the rose on my windowsill and waited for the approaching gentleman.
            Little did I know he would come in the form of a falcon and this unusual falcon would transform into a man that I did not feel I could possibly deserve. And how silly that it turned out he felt the same way. Not to bore you with details, but after talking first and finding out that he was a prince, he left as a falcon the next morning and myself, in much better spirits.
            The next night, he came again and all because I had the red rose in my window. It was only the next morning that I realized my sisters were jealous and wanting to catch me in the wrong, stayed at my door eavesdropping. This brought more ridicule behind Father’s back, which ended in me going to my bedroom early and going to sleep just as fast. The middle daughter, Chriselda, snuck into my room and, leaving the flower, set a trap for this unusual guest of mine. I found out much later that he got caught and wounded in the trap and after becoming disheartened, left for his kingdom miles away. The commotion woke me up, but I was too tired to discover what it was before he was long gone.
            As soon as I did, however, I wasted no time in trying to find him. I don’t feel like recounting the entire tale with all the details, but I managed to reach a kingdom where he was being held prisoner by a witch who wished to marry him. Her weakness was unusual and expensive trinkets, so I managed to give them to her in order to be by his side. She kept him under a spell at this time, but never the less, I was determined to get him away from her. Perhaps I was starting to love him, which after only two nights with me, was quite a feat. I did not get caught in appearances so easily and was proud to consider myself a very clever and self-supporting person.
            On the last night before the wedding day, I found a red rose on the windowsill. I figured that was how she managed to get him to her castle and he must have figured that I hadn’t lost heart after all, but discovered only too late that it was the wrong window. But I wasn’t sure how he could mistake a castle for a cottage, so I picked up the flower and flung it as hard as I could out the window. I’m not sure why, but he woke up just then and after seeing me and sharing a bit of what had happened (he was drawn by the rose but only because he had no choice in the matter) we escaped the castle. It was quite easy for me to pretend I was the castle falconer because none of the guards knew that there was one, let alone what he or she looked like.
            We ended up parting ways a little ways on my journey and I went the long way back to my village. I told you before, I wasn’t one to be married off just because I saved the prince’s life and had actually talked to him thrice. I still used the rose to call him, yes, but those were only on occasion when I wanted to talk to someone. My sisters were not satisfactory friends and I didn’t have anyone else. That night that he admitted that he was completely lost in love with me and I was torturing him with being indecisive, I gave in and got married. I thought that if he could tell me that, honestly, and have trouble saying it, he probably had my best interests in mind.
            My sisters were less than ecstatic, but they dealt with it fine. They both married handsome men of the village who were moderately rich. I never followed up on them because I didn’t know how I would react if I found out they were abused or put in jail for heavy spending or whatever misfortune that was sure to befall them. However hard to get I was and however much I disliked my sisters for ridiculing me, I don’t want to see them hurt.
            I’m living happily as Queen Victoria Stone in the castle of Summerfalls and am enjoying a long co-reign with my husband. It’s been quite a distance for a woodcutter’s daughter, but I can’t forget where I come from. And the red rose is still in my windowsill with no sign of ever wilting.

(Here is the fairy tale this account is based off of.)

La Pêche (The Peach)

           Il y a une pêche qui habitait avec autres pêches dans une petite ville. Mais cette pêche était bleue. Elle était different. Les autres n’aimaient pas cette pêche, alors elle habitait dans sa maison seul.
           Un jour, un artist s’est promené et il a arrivé à la village de les pêches. Tout les pêches qu’il a vu étaient jaune et orange. Il aimait les pêches, mais elles étaient tout la même. L’artist voulait quelquechose qui était different pour peintre. Il était poli, mais il a continué marcher.
           Finalement, il a arrivé à la maison de la pêche bleue. Elle faisait le thé quand l’artiste s’est frappé sur sa porte. Elle a souté quand elle a entendu la porte. Elle l’a ouvri et suddenment, elle lui a offrert du thé. Il était supris, aussi.
           –Excusez-moi, mais vous êtes très jolie, il a dit.
           –Mais je suis bleue, elle a dit.
           –Mais, vous êtes parfaite pour mon peinture. Je regardait pour quelquechose qui était different.
           Elle a rougi. « Eh bien, je suis differente. »
           L’artist et la pêche se promenaient à son atalier. Après l’artiste l’a peintu, elle a retourné chez elle très contente.

           There was a peach who lived with other peaches in a little village. But this peach was blue. She was different. The other peaches didn’t like this peach, so she lived in her house, alone.
           One day, an artist was walking and he arrived at the peaches’ village. All the peaches that he saw were yellow and orange. He liked peaches, but they were all the same. The artist wanted something that was different to paint. He was polite, but he continued to walk.
           Finally, he arrived at the house of the blue peach. She was making tea when the artist knocked on her door. She jumped when she heard the door. She opened it and suddenly, she offered him some tea. He was surprised, also.
           “Excuse, me, but you are very pretty,” he said.
           “But I’m blue,” she said.
           “But you are perfect for my painting. I’ve been looking for something that was different.”
           She blushed. “Well, I’m different.”
           The artists and the peach walked to his studio. After the artist had painted her, she returned to her house very happy.

Le Dragon et La Libellule (The Dragon and the Dragonfly)

C’est une histoire pour les enfants et c’est en Français. Il a une message pour tout le monde si vous voulez lui entendre. Mais, parce que mes lecteurs ne parlent pas français, je l’écrit en anglais après cette histoire.

This story is for children and it’s in French. It has a message for everyone if you want to listen to it. But because my readers don’t speak French, I wrote it in English after this story.

              Il y avait un dragon qui était très sympa, mais tout le monde n’aimait pas. Il avait toujours faim et il aimait manger les vaches qui habitaient dans la compagne près de sa caverne. Parce qu’il mangeait les vaches, les hommes le chercheraient pour tuer le pauvre dragon. Le dragon, parce qu’il ne voulait pas morir, mangerait les hommes. Mais soulement si il n’y avait pas un autre choix. S’il pouvait, il courrait des hommes.
            Un jour, quand le dragon courait de les hommes, il a arrivé à un étang. Dans l’eau il y avait un belle libellule. Elle s’est faire la toilette et quand elle a vu le dragon, elle a dit : « bonjour ! »
            Le dragon était suprise et il a dit : « bonjour. »
            La libellule a fait attention au dragon était nerveux, alors elle a dit : « qu’est-ce qu’il y a ? »
            –Les hommes me ciselent. Ils voulait me tuer. Je peux courir, mais je ne sais pas combien de temps je peux continuer. Ils me trouveraient et me faire mourir.
            –Je ne pense pas votre situation est trop mauvaise. Par example, comment vous savez les hommes voulaient vous tuer ? Est-ce que vous avez demandé ?
            –Non. Ils ne voulaient pas parler.
            La libellule a rit. Sa rit était comme une cloche et elle a reverbé sur les arbres. « Ne soyez pas drôle ! Vous devoyez parler avec ils. Vous êtes plus grand et plus puissant que les hommes.»
            Le dragon a rougi. Il n’aimaient pas quand elle lui a rit, mais il a sait qu’elle avait une bonne idée. Il a entendu les hommes le derriere et il a turnu.
            Les hommes se sont arrêté. Ils ont entendu une petite voix qui a dit : « Assez-vous ! » et ils ont obéi. Le dragon n’a pas entendu la voix et il était supris quand tout le monde a assis.
            –Je vous demande pardon mais je ne sais pas pourquoi vous voulez me tuer. Il faut que je mange pour vivre.
            Un grand homme s’est levé. « Mais, il n’est pas necessaire que vous mangez nos vaches. Il y a autre chose que vous peuvez manger. »
            –Mais, je suis un dragon. Je ne peux pas manger autre choses. Il faut manger de la viande.
            Les hommes étaient silincieux. La libellule a dit : « Peut être nous pouvons laisser un ou deux vaches pour vous. Ensuite, nous pouvons avoir du lait et vous pouvez la viande. »
            Personne savait qui a parler, mais tout le monde pensait c’était un bonne idée. Alors, les hommes laissaient des vaches devant la cave du dragon. Le dragon n’avait pas besoin de manger les hommes. Tout le monde était heureux depuis le fin de temps.

            There was a dragon who was very kind, but everyone didn’t like him. He was always hungry and he liked to eat cows who lived in the country close to his cave. Because he ate the cows, the men looked for him to kill the poor dragon. The dragon, because he did not want to die, ate the men. But only if there was no other choice. If he could, he would run away from the men.
            One day, when the dragon was running from the men, he arrived at a pond. In the water, there was a beautiful dragonfly. She was preparing herself for the day when she saw the dragon and said: “Hello!”
            The dragon was surprised and said: “Hello.”
            The dragonfly saw that the dragon was nervous, so she said: “What’s the matter?”
            “The men chase me. They want to kill me. I can run, but I don’t know how long I can continue. They will find me and they will kill me.”
            “I don’t think your situation is too bad. For example, how do you know the men want to kill you? Did you ask them?”
            “No. They don’t want to talk.”
            The dragonfly laughed. Her laugh was like a bell and it reverberated in the trees. “Don’t be silly! You should talk with them. You are bigger and more powerful than the men.”
            The dragon blushed. He didn’t like when she laughed at him, but he knew that she had a good idea. He listened for the men behind him and he turned.
            The men stopped. They heard a little voice say: “Sit down!” and they obeyed. The dragon didn’t hear the voice and he was surprised when everyone sat down.
            “I’m asking for your apology but I don’t know why you want to kill me. I have to eat to live.”
            A big man stood up. “But, it’s not necessary that you eat our cows. There are other things you can eat.”
            “But, I’m a dragon. I can’t eat other things. I must eat meat.
            The men were silent. The dragonfly said: “Maybe we could leave one or two cows for you. Then, we could have milk and you can have meat.”
            No one knew who had spoken, but everyone thought it was a good idea. So, the men left cows in front of the dragon’s cave. The dragon didn’t need to eat the men. Everyone was happy until the end of time.

The Ugly Princess

    Once upon a time there was a little princess who lived alone. None of the other princesses would look at her. She was not a pretty princess. She ruled over a bouquet of flowers. Her flowers thought she was pretty, but she didn’t.
    One day, when the princess was feeling particularly ugly and the other princesses were out and about, the princess went to a pond to be alone. She pulled out a piece of paper and a pen and started to write. She knew she was special (as all princesses were) but it was hard for her to look at her reflection in the water. As she wrote, a water lily opened up on her pad. Noticing the princess, the lily sighed daintily.
    The princess turned around. "Sorry, I didn’t notice you."
    "Well, why not? Everyone notices me."
    The princess was taken aback. "I’m sorry."
    The lily sighed again. "What’s wrong?"
    "Well, I’m not very pretty."
    "Don’t be stupid," the lily said, "you’re beautiful."
    "All the flowers think so. But the princesses don’t."
    "How do you know? Has anyone ever told you you weren’t pretty?"
    The little princess blushed. "Well, no."
    "And who cares about what the other princesses think anyway?"
    "The princes and kings and queens and all their subjects."
    "Who cares?" the lily said, irritated. "They’re all nobodies. Your subjects love you and that’s all that matters."
    "But what are flowers," the princess asked trying to save face," they can’t think, they’re small, and no one cares about them."
    The lily laughed. "Humans are too superficial and they change too much. Flowers know who they are and what they want to be. They will always be there for you as long as they live."
    "They don’t live very long."
    "No one does. Especially not humans; they’re very careless."
    The princess turned away from the lily and stood up. She looked at her reflection in the lake and saw that she was pretty. Not as beautiful as some other princesses but she didn’t care. She smiled and went back to her flowers, a little bit happier.

Once Upon a Time (No. 4)

            My sister and I were never very close. In fact, we only talked to each other when our tutors demanded it. I’d hear her voice from conversation with other people, but mostly I was content to talk to the little folk who lived in the forest. My sister, Gwendolyn, looked like our father with golden hair and sky blue eyes where as I, Melanie, looked like our mother with raven black hair and jade green eyes. No one ever believed we were sisters simply because we were completely different in not just looks, but personalities. People would whisper that I had my head in the clouds and that Gwen would be much more personable with ruling the country. She had more charisma than I, anyway. She was also very demeaning to the servants and myself, even though I am a full year and a half older than her (she was born in winter, I was born in summer).
            One day, my mother insisted that Gwen follow me into the forest. Besides, she had said, it would be good for Gwen to learn about the fae folk, too. Mother always seemed to treat the years between Gwen and I much larger than they really were. Gwen was at my level when it came to learning (I give it credit to her smarts, not my stupidity) and it was not like anyone else who visited our kingdom knew the difference between our ages. Most people took her as older, which I suppose contributed to her bitterness towards me.
            By this point, we had reached as small pond. I’ve always liked this spot best with the dragonflies and damselflies creating ripples on the water. It was large enough to create a clearing of the trees so that the sun glistened on the water and made it look like shimmering crystal. Gwen had enough sense not to talk, but she remained standing to keep her dress clean, when I sat down. We didn’t talk to one another or the forest for the longest time until out of the water came a rather large green frog. I for one, was glad it was not that toad that had visited me previously (sorry, that’s another story that is quite boring and pointless that I shant tell. Suffice it to say that the toad and I were not very good friends). My sister nearly screamed as it came hopping towards her; I admit it was a very strange frog, but I just can’t put my finger on why.
            “Please, ma’am. Will you give me a kiss?” (This was from the frog. I’m sure he spoke in much prettier language, but I can’t remember now. He was very polite). “A malevolent sprite from this woods cast a spell on me when I went gazing at the water. She said that the only way to get back to being human was to get a kiss from the princess living at the edge of the woods. I assume this is you?”
            My sister seemed too shocked to speak, but she nodded.
            “I’m from Woodshire at the other edge of the forest. I’m the youngest son of the king who lives there.”
            “Hmm,” my sister said (or she said nothing at all, but stood thinking). “I’ve heard of Woodshire. Your family has visited on diplomatic matters.” Gwen stood their thinking for a bit, but she didn’t believe him at all.
            I believed him wholeheartedly, but I was too ashamed to kiss him in front of my sister. All of her scolding and harsh words made me even more timid than I naturally was (also a reason why “my head was in the clouds”). But since I could picture in my minds eye what this prince looked like, I decided to help him. While my sister was busy listening to the goings on at these diplomatic meetings, I did not. I watched who came to visit my father quite well and knew the face of every noble within miles (if they have visited, of course). Oh, I’m blushing when I write this, but if it was indeed the youngest prince (who although he was the youngest, was a year older than me), he was quite handsome and if I help him, he may convince my father to let me marry him.
            Not being able to stand my sister’s “Hmm” anymore, I told her quite frankly to go get some sandwiches for our guest, the prince, when he arrives. I think my words puzzled her enough (she did not believe he was the prince) that she didn’t question me and just walked off. When I was sure she was gone, I just kissed him. I remember there being a great flash of light that blinded me before everything going black. Oh, it was so embarrassing because when I came round, I was in bed and my mother was wiping my forehead with a wet rag. I asked her about the prince and she said that when I was well, I could go and see him. I didn’t think much of her straightforward answer (it was the answer I wanted) until I was able to get out of bed to find that I was going to be married the next week.
            What had occurred was this: my sister came back to the woods to find that I had passed out and the prince of Woodshire was trying to get me to come round. (He had seen her disbelief, so he had told her he was out walking when he stumbled across me next to the pond. She didn’t question). The two of them took me back to the castle and my sister had me carried up to bed. He left and within three days our wedding was arranged. The specific details of everything that happened between our fathers, I was too happy to ask about.
            And so, the end of my childhood occurred just by kissing a frog. Foolish, yes, but quite possibly the wisest thing I have done. I’ve always trusted the little folk (even their tricks) and I could scarcely fathom if my sister alone, and not both of us together, had encountered this little frog. He would still be there in that pond waiting for a princess to wander to the pond’s edge. I would come, of course, like I always did and have always done after that. Not because of the frog or my husband, but because I love the way the sun plays on the ripples of the water. Besides, one never knows if one will find a citizen from the kingdom who needs a little help from a spell of the fae folk.

Trust Cat

            One particularly sunny day, Cat was sleeping on the rooftop of his favorite house. He had just eaten a bowl of cream and was purring softly in ecstasy. Dog barking hysterically down below suddenly broke his thoughts.
            “Cat you have to help! Owl is having particular trouble catching this one mouse and now it’s starting to kill him! Come quick!”
            That doesn’t seem like a very plausible story, thought Cat, but he stood up and stretched. “I’ll be right down,” he called to Dog.
            “Meet me at the willow tree in the forest, Cat. I’ll be helping Owl there and I’ll let him know you’re on your way.”
            Cat stretched again and then jumped neatly off the roof and ran after Dog. I wonder what’s happened to Owl, he thought, this just doesn’t seem very probable that a mouse is beating him up. Cat reached the willow tree and looked around. Despite him being positive that he had followed Dog for the whole way, he couldn’t find him.
            “Silly Cat,” Dog said. “Owl didn’t need your help, I was just hungry and I couldn’t figure out how to get you down.” As Dog was talking, Dog’s friends appeared out of the shadows, jaws clacking impatiently at their easy target. “You’re so trusting; you made it almost too easy.”
            Cat started to run and ran up the nearest tree from the willow tree. Dog and his friends were barking up the tree angrily while Cat decided what to do. Just then Owl passed by with a fresh mouse in his beak. Cat waved to him and waited while he perched on a branch above Cat.
            “Owl,” Cat said close to tears, “look what happened. Dog said you were in trouble and I came to help, but he tricked me because he wants to eat me. Can you help?”
            Owl stared at him and said slightly bitterly: “Sure, but only if you promise not to go after my young again in the trees. It’s the only home they have.”
            Cat agreed, though he couldn’t remember torturing Owl’s young ever and patiently sat still while Owl gripped Cat’s paws and lifted him off the tree. Dog and his friends followed after them, barking wildly. Soon they reached a river and Owl swooped towards the waters.
            “I don’t know why Dog wants to eat you,” Owl started swooping lower, “but I don’t want you tampering with my meals. You should know it’s very hard to find a good mouse. I’m going to drop you here.”
            Despite Cat’s wild cries towards the contrary, Owl dropped Cat into the freezing cold river and flew off quickly. Cat sputtered and quickly swam diagonal to the current towards the far shore from Dog. While Cat was flailing wildly, Alligator swam up next to Cat.
            “Do you want a lift to shore?” she said hungrily. “I’d be more than happy.”
            “No thank you,” Cat said swimming faster. Finally, his paws came in contact with the shallow part of the shore and he ran towards dry land.
            “Well, fine,” Alligator cried after him and deciding he was not worth the effort, swam the rest of the way upstream.
            Cat shook himself dry and breathed a sigh of relief. Then glancing warily at the river and the dispersing pack of dogs, he trotted off towards home and the sunny roof that was calling his name in order to dry his wet body and disperse his fears. And so, that’s why you should always trust your instincts because just as Cat suspected something might be wrong, you never know when a noble cause may not be what it seems.

Once Upon a Time (No. 3)

            I’ll start out by saying that my entire childhood was plagued by a curse. I’m not exactly sure what took place, as my father was quite embarrassed about it and no one spoke of specifics, but as the fourth daughter of a king in a tight spot, he gave me to the forest fae. When I was finished with my task, whatever that was, I was returned the very next day without any memories of what had happened. Regardless of whether my stay was really only a day, according to all the humans at home, I was only gone that short amount of time. All that I knew was that I was never comfortable after that. Even the softest cushion on a seat felt like I was sitting on cold marble.
            One day, I believe I was sixteen, my father sent me out to the forest with a gift. I was not told where to go, only that I should keep walking through the forest and if I reached the other side, I should return back. About three nights in, it started to rain and I was drenched. I distinctly remember feeling the drops like stones on my body until I started to bruise. Eventually, I reached a large castle built into a clearing of the forest. I didn’t think anything unusual should happen if I rested for the night and I knocked on the door.
            A funny little lady answered my knock and I could tell she was going to leave me out in the rain all night when I suppose she saw the basket I was carrying. After inquiring what it was, I told her it was a gift. I realized it was not the best answer, but she accepted it and let me in. I have lived in a castle all my life and I am no stranger to the many estates of kings throughout the empire, but I had never seen anything so beautiful in my entire life. I was quite awe-stricken and didn’t even notice the fuss going on around me when the queen (or a woman who was later clarified as a queen) saw a bedraggled wet girl in her precious castle. By all means, I would have been bristling with anger, but there was something about that place that calmed me.
           The lady of the house suggested something about a test in her screeching, but I was too tired to protest. She led me to a room at the end of a long hall and wished me a pleasant comfortable night and told me the maids were waiting for anything I wanted. At this point, I was frightened, but as a princess and the youngest, I was used to suppressing my emotions. Youth is something everyone wants to obtain in a partner and even the slightest smile at a man’s statements could give me a lifetime of trouble. Anyway, I was too tired to resist and I lay down in the bed. Pain shot up my spine and gave me a splitting headache. I ordered more mattresses. I was slightly more comfortable at ten, but I needed a ladder to get atop them. That’s when I noticed the bothersome bump right in the middle of my lower back. Everywhere I turned, I felt it protruding through the ten layers of rocky mattresses. I asked for more and more, until dawn broke and the rain had settled into a light mist. I don’t remember when I fell asleep, but eventually not even the foreign mattresses were enough to keep me awake and I slept well into midday.
           There was nothing to do in the afternoon save wash up and watch people in the barracks outside my window. I didn’t have a very good view and it was very loud with all the fighting, but it sufficed to entertain me. The gift I had been carrying was gone and strangely, the door was locked. It must have been because all I did was stare at the trees and listen to the shouts below. I watched a few boys getting an archery lesson; they all looked younger than me, and had strange coloring. From where I was the golden headed boys looked green. I watched the pages assist some of the knights and occasionally the ruckus below would stop and people would talk. I watched the queen talk to a boy who looked a bit older than me, though I am not good at guessing people’s ages; I learned much later he was her son and thus the prince. When the sun set, I went down to join the family for dinner.
           Everyone was dressed quite well, making me look like a street urchin in comparison. The queen was at the head of the table, not the king, and she asked me how my night was. Not wanting to be rude, I told her I had quite a nice stay and the bed was very comfortable. She wasn’t pleased with my answer, and the maid for reasons unknown at the time, mentioned that I had twenty mattresses placed on my bed. When asked why, I told her about my problem. She asked if there was anything in particular that I needed twenty mattresses for. I said that there was a lump in the middle of the bed bothering me. The events that followed were, honestly, a blur. All of a sudden the humans I had supposed them to be all turned into forest fae and the room lit up in celebration. I was proclaimed “the one” and showered with gifts. Later in the evening I was told I was to be married to the prince the following day. While I did not particularly like this arrangement, I was not one to complain especially not with the fae. I have heard stories of people disappearing at fairy dances and they gave the magical arts a horrible reputation. I should have realized now that the gift was I, and that the reason I had this horrible curse was because the fae wanted to make sure that my father held true to his promise. I only realized this after my wedding night, when my problems ended and I could sit on a chair again without feeling pain. I no longer needed ten mattresses to feel remotely comfortable and my life was slightly better. I never learned exactly what promise I had fulfilled, but everything turned out all right in the end.
           I suppose everyone has a happy ending. We all find something to be thankful about even if most of our lives seem dismal. I eventually got used to my lifestyle and recalling that I was forced into it doesn’t bother me much at all, now. Then again, this was such a long time ago. When I became the fairy queen they gave me the gift of immortality that they have and I am well on my way to my sixteen-hundredth birthday and my five thousand and fortieth year as primary queen: Queen Cynthetta DuPont.

Once Upon a Time (No. 2)

            Well, what do you want to know about my childhood? I suppose I could start at the first memory. My father was a rich landowner who was also an advisor to the throne. I don’t remember my mother, just that one day my father mentioned that she had died and that she wasn’t coming home. I think I was five or six when I asked. I knew my father left and would come back occasionally on different errands for the king, so wouldn’t my mother come back one day? The only mother I ever knew was Clara, the nurse. She was somewhat young compared to other nurses (one day she told me she was twenty three) and would always take care of me when my father wasn’t around. I connected more with her than Father.
            One day my father came back and announced that he was going to get remarried. I was twelve at the time and still incredibly naïve to think that the woman my father would marry would be just like Clara. When I actually met her prior to the wedding, she seemed all right enough. She told me about her two daughters, one my age, the other a year older and said that I would finally be happy with other girls to play with. Besides, it would do well for me to see an example of a happily married relative, when she could find a suitable match for her girls. Her tone was sickly sweet and honestly made me nauseous. But there was nothing for me to do to stop father from marrying that woman. I believe her name was Angela, but I had never called her that.
            I suppose I should pause to tell you that my father when he wasn’t out in the name of the king was usually sick at home, which was another reason I bonded so well with Clara. My new mother and her “lovely” daughters arrived the day my father would come back from an errand and only Clara and myself were home. Just about the first thing she did after ordering Clara around the house to get things ready for her new husband’s arrival, was fire the poor girl. Just as Clara left my father came home. He ignored my complaints that Stepmother had fired Clara and smiled to my two new sisters: Mary and Tiffany. He seemed to fawn over how lovely and behaved they were before going upstairs to take a nap. It was unusual, but I didn’t think much of it, as I was too busy feeling rejected and lost. Later that evening my new stepmother came out to tell us that he had died in his sleep. That’s when everything changed. She had a devilish aura around her and her eyes seemed to smile behind her solemn appearance. She never did cry about it and neither Tiffany nor Mary seemed terribly upset about losing a second father. I suppose it was because they didn’t know him, but that didn’t seem too logical as they saw him every week before their mother married him. For weeks after that I would have nightmares of Her coming at him with a kitchen knife. I never saw the body to see if my dreams were true. Well with Clara gone there was no one to do any work around the house so little by little she added more chores for me to do and less for her daughters. Since I would constantly cry myself to sleep, She said I was crazy and stupid, not fit to be taught as a noblewoman. Two years later her excuse was I was not fit for the wife of a king and I didn’t figure out why until months later. The serving girl, Rachel told me about a masquerade ball that the king and queen were having at the palace. They were desperate to get their son married, as he was already very old at sixteen years, so they invited all of the women excluding servants to the party. Parents were invited also to insure no vulgar behavior. (The last part she heard straight from the messenger, who had been friends with Rachel and wasn’t afraid to tell her exactly what he felt about the whole thing. But I could figure that the king and queen would never add the last bit in an invitation.) I was never told about it because I was considered a serving girl, when anyone could tell you I was not. No one else could read and write and I was also well versed with poetry and could play the lute. No other servant can brag of such an education. I had three days at this point to figure out how to get there. I had never seen nor met the prince so I must admit I was thinking of this marriage as a way to please my parents and get myself out of this horrible mess. I was used to the idea of marriage not for love, but for government and legal purposes, so regardless of whether he was a nice person, I needed him to get me away from here and possibly rise up in society. Then I would never have to deal with this horrible place again and for my father, raise a child to be heir to the throne. Quite a wonderful possibility if I could pull it off. Which is why I was not surprised when I went to town the next day that the dress shop was overflowing with women. I wouldn’t have the money anyway to buy a dress. I stopped on the way home at the bakery where Clara lived, whom I learned is happily married to the baker. He was a widower and happy to let Clara work at his shop. So it was no problem for him to marry an old maid like Clara, so long as no one knew she was never married. She was very pleased to see me and we talked for a while. (I had told Rachel in advanced I would be making this trip and she told me she would do my cleaning chores and gave me an extra long list full of rubbish so that it would look like I was busy all day.) She decided to help me and we measured my size and went to the dress shop to buy material. She promised me the dress would be ready three days from then and I should come back as soon as I could.
            I do talk a lot, don’t I? Sorry, but there is a lot to tell. At the day of the party I was tied up with quite a bit of cleaning. I helped Tiffany and Mary get ready and cleaned the house until glowed. Mary was the eldest so I had to make sure she looked extra pretty. The poor girl is color-blind and I ended up getting whipped because she insisted on a hideous orange frilly dress. Such was the way most of the time. The party had started by the time I ran to Clara’s. She had the dress ready as promised. I have to describe it because it took my breath away. She had a simple design of a straight white dress with no decoration and the skirt was open in the front to reveal a dark blue satin skirt with a stitched design of flowers. She had sewn fitting sleeves underneath large dropping white ones and decorated the opening of the skirt with lace. It took forever to get into getting all the wrinkles in the right place and smoothing out the fabric, pinning some things here and there. We put some ceruse and fucus on and she gave me a mask she had traded to the artist down the street. I don’t know how she managed to get it to fit perfectly but she tied it on with blue satin ribbons, so it wouldn’t slide down my face. Clara had also figured out that she and her husband would escort me as my parents. They were both dressed and they escorted me to the party. The entire time my heart was beating like a puppy’s, so I’m not sure what happened. We were introduced and I hung around smiling and mingling with some of the people there. I never knew there were so many girls in the town, some of them younger than me. I do remember dancing with the prince though. He wasn’t terribly handsome, but when he smiled I got a terrible case of nerves and my stomach trembled. He had such a beautiful smile. Anyway, when people started leaving, I thanking him for a wonderful time and I thanked the king and queen on my way out. I didn’t realize that my family had recognized me until I got home and I was whipped several times for being insolent. My fear for the rest of the night was that they told the king and queen I was a servant girl and I would be looked down upon for sneaking in uninvited (although technically, I was not).
            A couple weeks went by before I was called upon before the court. My stepmother was in such a state of shock she went about as a ghost, letting me borrow Tiffany’s dress and shoes and arranging a coach to take me to the palace. I wasn’t sure what was happening either, but I made the best of it and bathed in fresh hot water and did my hair and makeup. What had happened was the king had found out from someone that I lived in his old advisor’s house and had wondered if I was his daughter. Apparently word had gotten around that I was a servant. Thankfully he recognized me and I told him about the misunderstanding. I tried my best not to make my family seem as bad as they were because even though they treated me badly I would still have their deaths on my conscious and I didn’t want that. If it was arranged that I would marry the prince, it didn’t matter if they were alive or dead.
            The marriage was set up with the prince and I’m now queen. My education came in handy because I was tested to see if I was royalty and passed quite easily. I didn’t really tell you about my childhood because I was fourteen when this happened, but anything prior to that was trivial. Well I hope that tells you everything you needed to know. Oh, my name. Ella-Carissa DuPont. Well, Queen Ella-Carrissa.

Once Upon a Time (No. 1)

            My childhood really wasn’t something to brag about. I mean I was short for my age and my mother insisted I have my black hair cut with a pasta bowl. And it wasn’t even black—it’s dark brown. Anyway, my mom comes back one day when I was ten and tells me to go to bring some food to grandmother the next day because she was sick. I wasn’t sure why she didn’t bring food when she went there, but I didn’t have to do it right then, so I was fine. I came home from school and then was packaged off in my hideous red riding cloak and given a basket and shoved out the door. Oh, yeah. So I headed off down the road and tried to think of humility and remembering all the awful soup I had to eat when I was sick when I got a little distracted by a flower field. I knew it was Farmer Carls’ field, but I didn’t think he would miss a few flowers on the edge by the forest. And then comes this guy, one of those fellows who can change into an animal at will. He was such a pervert I don’t know if I can write what he said. The gist of what I said was no and I left off for the rest of the forest. Thank whoever’s up there he didn’t follow me.
            Since then I’ve hated wolves. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
            So I reach grandmother’s house and the first thing I notice is the gate lock is undone and the door is ajar. If she was so sick, I thought, why the heck is the door open. So I went around the house and didn’t see the small squishy grandmother of mine. I was stupid though and thought whatever thief was there, I could take him on and went in.
            As soon as the stupid pervert said hello I knew I was in trouble. Especially since the guy hadn’t even done a good job of hiding my grandmother. I never really liked her much because we didn’t understand each other, but I wasn’t exactly glad that this guy did a service for me. I lost my head. And when I lose my head, I’m so silent I’m like a wall. I suppose I should mention my grandfather was a lumberjack and so he had various saws around the house. But within reach at the time was the loaded (always loaded) rifle next to the door behind the cabinet. So I’m inching over to the cabinet and trying to pretend that nothing happened.
            “My you sound sick,” I said. What a bunch of baloney! But he played along and tried to get me to give him some food. The way my mom makes chicken noodle soup, I should have let him have it. But I reached the rifle and not knowing how to shoot a duck if it was nailed to the floor, shot at the bed. I missed three times before I finally hit the guy in the head. Every person and their cousin was running down the road wondering what in the bujesus someone was doing firing a gun. Oh I wish I could describe all of their faces when they saw this short little girl holding a riffle in one hand and a basket in another, smiling from ear to ear in a ridiculous red cloak. I must’ve looked way younger than I was. If I was there I would have thought that this little girl was crazy and who in their right mind let her have a gun. Psycho killer baby on the loose! I’m still laughing about it. So long story short, my grandmother lived with us for the rest of her life and the sheriff ended up teaching me to shoot when I was fifteen. My mom was not very proud. Whatever. I’ve gone off to America and shoot the best in the west. Pretty nifty. No I ain’t Annie Oakly, though I’ve met the gal. For anyone who cares, I’m known as Red and that’s all you need to know.