et's start over. Once upon a time there was a forest filled with the strangest of creatures, the kind unbeknownst to most suburban adolescents, contemporary urbanites and protected convent girls. (Now remember kids, we are telling a post-modern story, princesses in cadillacs are common occurrences. The misinformed wear uggs. Balenciaga boots are the new glass slipper.) But we digress.
One day, walking into that forest was a little girl with pink boots and a sly grin. By little, we mean in size. Her steps were rather loud, and her voice was a harder match. Her curls were large, however- she was not to be confused with Goldilocks. “Dark brown,” she would tell you, upon the question of her hair colour. “Really dark brown.” If you said black, your face would be met with quick fists and a slap on the nape of your neck. Expect red skin from small hands. But you would laugh.
Now this little girl, in her houndstooth coat would march right through this forest despite all hours of day. When the lights would lower, she would continue like she was six feet tall and two hundred pounds heavier. When the sun was high, she would look the creatures in the eye, and shake hands. They were confused by her outlandish style and effusive nature.
It wasn’t long before various fairytale creatures, princes and beggars alike began to flock to her side without her even knowing. It was a fate she only would have to accept later. But this girl was no princess and she was not locked in any castle, awaiting a kiss. Had she lost her shoe, she never would have simply left it as what girl could leave an oh-so-expensive pair of shoes behind? No, she wasn’t waiting for prince charming. She wasn’t waiting for her suitors.
Imagine to her surprise when one day as she was sitting by herself in that very forest, by a tree, when she was approached by a suitor. And then another. And another. She began to wonder if she was sitting by an enchanted tree, or perhaps there was a jestor around playing a joke on her. This little girl would then swallow back her doubts, and smile back at them politely in hopes they would disappear. She would not notice the crowd of perturbed female creatures behind her, until they would begin to dig their claws into her back. Who’s scared of the big bad wolf now? She could hear them piercingly, their howls implanting themselves into her veins, in her skin. Especially the witch. Her wickness hated her, and cast a spell upon the beasts to do her bidding. They too, would attack. In temporary fright, she would grasp all around her, reaching for her ipod (in hopes of listening to music, to tune out the world. This is modern day, remember.) and then run. Run until her heart would fall out of her chest, until she was safe, until she was remembering to breathe.
She would find herself at either a cross road or dead end, as either there was no turning back or she could turn around, grab a sword and fight for her very life. She cringed at the latter, as literally she could hear the beasts gnashing their teeth behind her just waiting to dig their teeth into her bones. This idea did not sound fathomable. Her mind was unwavering, however, in that she did not see herself to be a coward. But she was no princess. There was no fairy godmother waiting with an overly ripe pumpkin, or a flash forward mouse turned horse. There were no easy answers, as princes would only make matters worse. There were no magic potions, no overdrawn kisses and fairy powder. There were only ogres and lies and stepmothers and Ursulas.
cont [2]
Of course, in this forest, the sinful witch was a resentful, scorned schoolgirl, and the ogres were rancorous females with jealous hearts and covetous eyes. They fought with their mouths and punctured you from the back. A low blow is never the way to go. The little girl, if she went back down the path she came, would be going in alone. She was short of a proper weapon, so all she was left with was her retracted pride, scathing wit and her oh so fashionable accessories. If you’re going to fight with only what’s inside you, you may as well look damn good. We won’t lie.
So, she would go. And she would be dressed to kill. Let’s make this cliché work for us. And so, she would fight it out, and would feel even her lungs bruise. You can’t really call it a fair fight when it’s a waylay on one apparently insignificant girl. (They spent a lot of time breathing about her. She felt a little bit special in the process. ) Despite all, the little girl managed to get in some good kicks, but in ambush only samurais win. But maybe there’s no training for this kind of thing. Fortunately for her, she would make it out alive, if barely. She would crawl out into the middle of the forest, on her hands and knees, and stay there for days and days and days.
It was not until four to six dwarves would come by, and snatch this poor little girl up. They would think she is just sleeping, and assume she simply is in need of nourishment. Of course, these dwarves were not really dwarves at all, because they were quite tall. In fact, the little girl was probably the dwarf. But we digress. And so, they would pick her up, and carry her to their home. When she would awake from what seemed a very long dream, she would be offered food and care like she had never felt or understood before.
However, she was not of much use in the cooking department, because let’s face it, this wannabe fashionite was fairly spoiled and pretentious. But she would try, and perhaps do the dishes. It wasn’t long before she began to live peacefully alongside the not-so short dwarves. This was odd, as she was unusually hard to hold onto. But she would not question it, because when she would finally tell them her story, they would offer to fight the witch. They would stay with her, and perhaps be her very own army. This would thrill her to no end, because an army was different than prince charming. She didn’t need prince charming. Not today.
They would not fight the witch because, the little girl imagined, one day the witch would walk into water on her own and destroy herself. There was no need.
And so, she would stay with them and they would be happy. How quaint. Until, of course-
One tragic day, the little girl would collapse. A bad apple, perhaps? Poisoned? We’ll never know. She find her way to a doctor, who would send her to a hospital. She asked for magic spell, but instead got a blood test and a wheelchair. She would fall asleep to the sounds of the Emergency room, a lulling dull in her ears. When the little girl would wake, she would find her very tall dwarves by her side. There they would wait with her for hours until they would all return home together. Despite her murmuring into her hair, “Go home, go home. Go away, go away.” Despite everything. “Child,” they would say, “shutup and sleep.’ But lovingly so. We swear. She had never felt such a thing before, not since she had entered the forest, at least. When she would return home, she would fall sleep smiling.
(She would laugh remembering the expressions on the nurses faces. Does the girl have five boyfriends?)
And that would be that. For now.
Really. It’s not really the end or happily ever after just yet because the story isn’t quite over, but let’s just go with happily in-between or the middle, or something like that. Yeah? Yeah.
We forgot to mention the reason that the girl ran into the forest was that she was running away from her stepmother, who is a tad bit crazy. But she’s not exactly Snow White is she? Well, Snow Brown. Perhaps. But this isn’t any fairytale. Because those don’t exist, right?
