What do you think? -A Word From the Scribe- You think you know these women, but you don’t. They are nothing like the gentle, fearful maidens in the fairytales you have read. The faces they show to the world—bright eyes, fresh skin, cherubic cheeks—reflect not what is deep inside their hearts. No, their hearts are darker than their skin, heavier than their laughter, even sharper than their tongues, and I can attest that all of them possess tongues chiseled into dagger points—one lashing by which would have a man checking that his genitals were still intact. Some of the qualities about which you may have read between the covers of a dusty old book are real enough. But these have twisted and morphed over the years into bad habits at best and harmful quirks at worst. So harmful to themselves, in fact, that they were eventually banished from their own kingdoms. Although, truth be told, there were other reasons for their expulsion. Sinister reasons. The princesses’ derailments cannot be laid solely at their own feet. We all make choices and with choices come sacrifices. Some regret those sacrifices later—after the ball has ended, after the clock strikes twelve, and the carriage is once again a pumpkin. They sit in their opulent palaces, gaze into their gilded mirrors and wonder where their happily ever afters have gone. But happiness is fleeting, and if she isn’t careful a princess might miss that very important lesson. Her fairy godmother should teach her this, of course, but not all godmothers can be trusted. At least not all that I have encountered. Should a royal bride grow too trusting or too complacent in her role, she just might wake up one day to discover that her story has been altered, without a trace of the original in her memoryscape. She could find herself living another life in a different place that seems vaguely familiar, but isn’t exactly where she belongs. Her days may seem...shadowed somehow. Her mind fragmented, as if she were trapped in a nightmare from which she will never awaken. Although the princess may not be able to put her finger directly on the mark, she knows deep inside that something is missing. You might be wondering how I know all this. It’s simple, really. I’m the one who wrote their stories. Every word, from the very first drop of ink—every line, every bit of dialogue—spilled from my quill. It might surprise you to know that I was also the one who changed their stories. Not of my own accord, of course. A scribe doesn’t have the power to alter the path of a princess, nor would I ever want to. I loathe editing. I say tell the tale once and be done with it. That’s how the best work emerges. But, alas, these orders came from far above my head. The messenger who stood before my cottage door smelled of onions and rain clouds, with a pumpkin shaped head too large for his neck. He handed me a scroll which I unrolled and read. My orders were to change only one thing in each of the original five manuscripts I wrote. One word, really. I was to add the word “in” to the very last line—the line that concluded each of the princesses’ stories. I wouldn’t have to revise any other part of the books, nor would I have to add the dreaded epilogue. I loathe epilogues even more than editing. I say if you need to add onto the story, then pen a sequel. But for the purposes of our story, all you need to know is that once upon a time five beautiful princesses ruled the United Kingdoms of Enchantment. Five princesses who presently have no recollection of the royalty they once were, nor the harshness the world imposed on them when they were so very young. Now, they live far, far away. In a town called Everafter.
Posted on: Sun, 10 Aug 2014 19:12:38 +0000
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