Tipping the Scales Back Toward Life

Aaaaaaaannnnd... I'm back!  And hopefully a lot more often.  See, I got a new job a few months ago and it has taken up a lot of my life.  But in the new year, I am resolute to put some balance back in the whole work/life balance thing.  I think it more important now then ever to have an outlet for whatever needs letting out.

So, as a special treat (you know, for the 3-5 people I actually know IRL who are the only ones who read this) I have decided to share something I have begun and wish to share.  Although, I like to share it on my blog b/c I can pretend whatever I need to so my ego isn't bruised, and people I know can read it w/o having to fake praise when it sucked.  But mostly, what's an outlet if it's not let out into the world, at least a little.  And by putting it here on my blog, it's kind of a promise to me and to you that I will keep writing.  Well, unless it sucks and breaks the Internet.  But whatever!  Here it is, not my first attmept at fiction, but definitely the first I am letting people read (not counting the crap I wrote in middle school.)

Enjoy. Or, whatever...

Her 1

I never felt comfortable with the term “happily ever after.”  I always felt that the story was missing something.  It’s like once this whole fairy tale ordeal ended, and granted they are always pretty big ordeals, what with giants, dragons, true love, and magic, but once that is all over, suddenly nothing else happens. Ever.  I find it difficult to believe that, even compared to the tragedy and drama of a fairy tale sized adventure, this charming prince and his un-distressed damsel were just forever consistently happy, until the end of their days.

            But it’s not just that that bothers me.  What about the rest of their lives?  Your average fairy tale couple is, what, mid twenties at best?  You can’t tell me the only story worth telling is how they meet and how the prince (or other heroic male; I’m not saying he has to be royalty) takes out whatever baddie is harassing our sweet maiden, and they fall in love, blah blah, blah. 

I guess what I’m saying is this: the “happily ever after” ending isn’t an ending at all, but just the beginning.  And trust me, it’s the easy part.

            If you are going to really understand my point, I guess I need to explain my story.  For the sake of brevity, so that I can catch you up to where I am now, I will try to be brief.  And yes, at some points you’ll be thinking, “oh, no, that sounds super exciting, why are you rushing past that?”  It’s because this is my story, I will tell it my way, so deal.  Ok, so I guess it all starts with “once upon a time…”

            I led a pretty typical childhood. Well, my childhood was typical for a fairy tale princess, but one with a happy life and wonderful parents, not one whose scary step-someone hated them and forced them to be miserable types.  I was a happy, strife free child.

            But that didn’t last long.  See, there was this witch.  No one knew why she was in our kingdom or why she was so hell bent on destroying my parents, but she would stop at nothing to take them down.  I won’t bore you with the details of all her failed plots.  The only important one is the successful one.  I was 12 years old.  My parents (the king and queen) and I were taking a family stroll through the gardens.  Everything seemed safe.  Yet the witch somehow must have broken through the castle’s defenses, because all of a sudden, the witch was there and my parents were turned to stone.

            How is a 12 year old supposed to react to that?  I am surprised I didn’t just turn to stone myself, out of shear shock.  But I remember looking the witch in the eyes as she gazed at me in her victory.  There was a look of triumph there, but also contentment.  It wasn’t an evil look, as I was expecting, more just relieved with her final victory.  I still don’t understand it, or why she just turned away and left me there.  And would be the last time in 10 years I spoke to my parents.

            My life following that was not so happy.  My father’s brother, my uncle, became ruler of the kingdom.  His idea of a prosperous kingdom was not the same as my parents.  They measured wealth by the bounty of the yearly harvest, the health of the people, and the general joy in everyone’s lives.  My uncle measured prosperity by the size of the pile of treasure in the palace storage rooms.  Needless to say, the wealth of the general populace shrank as the treasure piled up in my uncle’s coiffeurs.  It was the same as any tyrant in other stories: the people were taxed past their means, battles were fought for the sake of gaining other kingdom’s treasures, and everywhere misery prevailed.

While my uncle may have been in charge of the kingdom, being the closest related adult relative of the queen and king, I technically was the one who belonged on the throne.  According to our laws, once I reached 25, I had the power to assume the throne.  It was my uncle’s original intention to raise me to leave the throne in his hands.  He thought that since I was young when I lost my parents, he could brain wash me into doing whatever he wished.  Those thoughts did not remain forever.

            For the first few years after my parents becoming stone, I carried that loss with a heavy sadness.  I saw the increasing poverty of my people as more grief that came with that loss.  Isn’t a king and queen the parents of a kingdom?  Without them, how can the kingdom continue to mature and prosper?  It’s the same with a child who loses its parents.

To help heal my grief, I mostly spent my days in the village.  Being the princess, I still had some power to do as I wished.  My uncles guards did once work for my parents, and hadn’t the heart to keep in the palace.  And since at the beginning I was only a child, my uncle didn’t really care what I got up to.  When I could, I would sneak food and other goods to the villagers.  I would help care for the sick.  When building burned down from attacks, I would help the villagers rebuild.  Anywhere I saw an ache, I sought to heal it.  The villagers were glad to receive my help.  I gave them hope.  They gave me a family, as the only family I had before that ever cared was now mossy statues in the palace gardens.

            But somewhere deep inside, that grief wasn’t being healed by helping.  Even though a piece of bread here or a bedside tending there brought goodness to the hearts of the villagers, it was slowly hardening mine.  Every time I saw another hardship happen to my people, people I grew to know and love, I saved a piece of that suffering inside myself.  I didn’t notice it growing, bit-by-bit, but the ache I received from losing my parents was being fueled, not healed.

            Like striking a match, my sadness one day burned into a consuming fury against my uncle.  The day began like any other.  I brought bread down from the castle.  My uncle had been away on more treasure hunting, so I was able to bring more than I could usually sneak away.  I had just left the house of a family to whom I brought the bread.  The children as been very ill, mostly brought on by lack of food.  The mother was a castle maid and with my uncle planning an extravagant party for his return and needed the castle spotless, the mother was unable to be home to care for her children.  So I had taken on the task of caring for the children.  As I left the house and entered the town square, I noticed my uncle’s “tax collector” speaking to a crowd of villagers.  He was formally called the “tax collector” but he was really a bully and a thief, taking the villagers hard earned money to pay for my uncle’s wasteful tastes.

            The “tax collector” was there to get funds to pay for my uncle’s return party.  It seemed some rather important cronies were to join my uncle on his return, and needed a proper welcoming.  Or more likely my uncle’s warlords had stolen a rather plentiful supply of treasure on their latest conquest and my uncle wanted to keep them loyal by rewarding them shamefully. The “tax collector” was giving a speech to the villagers explaining the new tax and how he would be coming to each home today to collect.  A disgruntled murmur shivered through the crowd.  I moved toward the crowd’s front to hear what was being said.  After too many feigned reason of why paying this tax was the villagers’ duty, the most respected town elder spoke up to the “tax collector” saying payment would be impossible, with the harvest being so bad and the people so poor already.  For his trouble, the village elder received a swift lash from the “tax collector’s” whip.  The sight of that old man’s bleeding check and the heightened fear of the villagers sparked an anger in me I never felt.  Before I knew what I was doing, I strolled right up to the “tax collector” and struck him as hard as I could right across the face.

            You can imagine his surprise.  He never in his life knew such a pain before.  And to be struck so hard by a fifteen year old girl!  His initial reaction was raising his hand to strike back, but upon seeing I was the princess, he held back.  Infuriated, I yelled, “How dare you strike that old man.  If I ever hear again that you have harmed any of these villagers, I will give you more than just a slap!”  He left in a hurry, muttering under his breath something about my uncle, and him seeing who will be striking whom in the future.  But I didn’t care about his muttered threats.  Something had ignited inside me.

            After that day, I was no longer contented with tending the ill and feeding the hungry.  I had to do more.  I began urging the villagers to push back against their oppression.  There were many more times where I stood up against my uncle’s lackeys, using my position as princess to prevent them from doing more harm to the villagers.  Of course, that just meant more harm was done in secret.  But with every terrible deed my uncle caused against those villagers, the more I raged against him and his men.  I was surprised at my own daring.  I would steal more from the castle, not just food, but gold, tools, weapons.  I conspired with a more rebellious group of villagers to commit acts that he saw as treason, but we saw as revolution.

            This behavior worried my uncle.  I was no longer the child who technically owned the throne, but could be kept out of his way.  Instead I had become a rightful and usurped ruler who was fast becoming a rallying point for a villager uprising.  I was taking action against him.  He could no longer pretend I wasn’t a threat or hope I would prove a worthless opponent.  He knew his position would be threatened if he opening got rid of me himself.  However, with the increasing restlessness within the kingdom, my uncle decided it was time I was “dealt with”.  I was only 17.

            What I didn’t know at the time, but have since learned, was that my uncle was actually in league with the witch.  They had fallen in love (or whatever you call love between evil, heartless, monstrous people), and my uncle used the witch to get him the kingdom.  The deal was she would take care of the royal family, and my uncle would marry her and make her queen.  She agreed to dispatch my parents, but saw it better to leave me alone. Unfortunately for her, once her deed was complete, the people were enraged with her turning my parents to stone.  My uncle feared that marrying her would be too much and would cause the people to keep him from the throne.  So, they had to continue their love affair in private.

            But after five year and my increasingly rebellious behavior, my uncle promised to change that arrangement.  He would only make that change, however, if the witch agreed to kill me.  He believed that if I were dead, the people would be too despaired to revolt.  They would be so heart broken at the loss of their true heir and feel so utterly defeated they would give up.  And besides, with me out of the way, he would be the only rightful heir anyway.  So, the witch prepared her plan.

            The day I was to be killed, all the villagers were summoned to the castle for a special announcement.  Unbeknownst to them, the “king” was to announce his engagement to the witch.  Of course, this was only a rouse to get the villagers to the castle, and away from the village. While the villagers made their way to the castle, I remained behind to be the victim of the witch’s evil plot.

            It all worked as planned.  I admit I was only too compliant with my part.  To be fair, the witch played on my weaknesses: cute children and fresh strawberries.  Before the gathering at the castle, the witch enchanted a few plump, juicy strawberries with a powerful spell that was meant to kill the person who ate the berries.  Then, she placed a spell on the sweetest child in the village to give me the berries.  It happened just as the people had left the village.  I was meaning to join the villagers, but held up by the pleas of this little girl.  She was crying because people knocked her down as they left, and she had hurt her little knee.  I of course dried her little eyes and helped clean her up as best I could.  As a thank you, so pulled from her pocket those few sweet berries.  See, in the kingdom, we rarely had strawberries anymore, because most of the soil was no longer enriched enough to grow them.  When the villagers could manage to grow some, the berries were sold to other kingdoms to add to the “king’s” treasury.  I admit, I should have let her keep them, but as they were my favorite, and I felt I deserved the thank you, I gladly ate them.

            What happened after that, I only know from what others told me.  I wasn’t found until late that night, after the villagers returned from engagement announcement.  The timing couldn’t have been more perfect for the witch and my uncle.  As people returned, they were beginning to grumble about the hardships they faced and how they wouldn’t take her becoming queen.  Plans were already being whispered among the crowd about how to rebel.  However, soon someone found me lying lifeless in the village square.  The entire village was soon there to see the horrible truth of my death.  The sight of my lifeless body was enough to quiet any grumblings they may have had.

            There was initially an argument about what to do with my body.  One person suggested they alert the castle, but an almost consensus agreed that I should remain with them in the village, and that my uncle shouldn’t ever get my body back.  This of course made my uncle angry, since he wanted the trophy of his victory lying in a marble tomb in the family crypt in the grounds.  However, he felt any arguing with the villagers’ wishes would admit his guilt in my death, so he let them keep me.

            It was finally decided that I would be kept in a glass coffin in the village square.

            I would just like to point out the ridiculousness of this idea.  I am at least mostly grateful for the decision, as I would still be buried somewhere if they had done something else.  But really! Keeping a princess in a glass coffin, in public, seems ludicrous to me.  You can imagine my discomfort when I realized I had been dead and exhibited to the public for five years.  That people had been weeping over my body in public, while I lay there, a corpse.  But I digress.

            Anyway, the feeling from the villagers (true as it turns out) was that I wasn’t really dead, but rather under a spell that made me look dead.  And any knowledgeable villager knows that such a spell could only be broken by true love’s kiss.  (If you think I was upset by what I told you before, you can imagine my feelings for what happens next).

            In an effort to awaken their beloved princess, and restore the kingdom to its former glory and joy, the villagers began secretly spreading the word to other kingdoms that they had a princess in need of kissing.  Of course, they were modern thinking people, so there was no need for the true love kisser to be a prince.  Any old duke, earl, knight, or even peasant would do.  So, for three years a string of eager potential lovers came to the village square to kiss me.

            Of course, it wasn’t just a free for all.  There are standards to be had, after all.  A group of the villagers that I was closest to decided there had to be some kind of procedure for bringing forward these throngs of young men.  One criterion was that they had to be young.  For that, I am very grateful.  Another was that they must spend a night in the village before being presented to my coffin.  This served two purposes.  First, the villagers had a chance to screen all potential lovers.  I guess it was better that I stayed asleep forever than be true loves with someone with inadequate hygiene or someone who swore too much.  Secondly, it allowed the villagers to keep their activities more discreet.  They worried that if too many young men just showed up and starting kissing the dead princess in her coffin, my uncle and the witch would get word of the villager’s plans to awaken me.

            So, for those three years, a string of well-chosen men would come to the village.  The ceremony was always the same.  He would arrive and be greeted by a select group of villagers.  The young man would then spend the evening being well fed in one of many designated homes in the village.  After a good night’s sleep, the young man would then be led into the square and presented to the coffin with the sleeping princess.  Then, the man would kiss me. 

And nothing happened.  Ever.  Not once.  The villagers would then offer their condolences to the young man, and send him off again. 

I spent those three years asleep, blissfully unaware of the ridiculous parade of disappointed lovers at my lips.  It was apparent after the first few months that I wasn’t dead, because my hair continued to grow and I continued to blossom into a young woman.  But no matter how many men kissed me, I never woke up.

            The witch, however, eventually became aware of the villagers’ actions.  She then did everything in her formidable power to see that no more suitors made it to try my awaiting lips.  You see, a large forest surrounds our kingdom.  Generally, it was never more dangerous than any other woods.  There was the occasional bear, and maybe some large cats, but mostly you would only come upon a deer, or a squirrel.  But when the witch was done, the forest was enchanted with all sorts of dangers.  Soon, the men that sought to awaken the enchanted princess found themselves attacked by all sorts of horrors.  What with the evil monsters, sudden impenetrable darkness, and even murderous trees (and what more, I cannot say), it’s no surprise that very few men made it into the village after that.  Most of the men were chased from the woods by some varying horror.  Even one or two never made it out of the woods alive.  But however those few that made it through to the village managed to survive, they still failed in their last task.  Again, none of them could awaken the sleeping princess. 

Not that I noticed.

            After five long years, there came a handsome prince from a far off kingdom.  What brought him here, I don’t know, but that’s beside the point.  Most villagers I heard from later swore they knew this young man was different.  I doubt that’s actually true.  But one person might have known something was different with this one: the witch.  For all the other potential lovers, she left their fate up to her enchantments in the woods.  She never condescended to scare them away in herself.  Yet, this time she made a personal visit to woods.  And that’s where she met her defeat.

I don’t know what happened there, except that she was defeated.

Accounts of what happened once the prince entered the village are varied, and get more farfetched with each retelling.  For example, I am pretty sure he didn’t ride into the village on a golden cloud and alight to the ground on a shimmering rainbow.  I do know, however, that he rode in on a horse.  But it definitely wasn’t white.  That part I know. 

Upon entering the village, he was at once led into the village square to where I lay.  Obviously, I could not perceive the commotion of the villagers as they led the conquering hero into the square.  In fact, I have tried to remember at least something during my five slumbering years, but nothing comes to mind except a misty grey feeling.  What was for the villagers a joyous end to their long anticipation was to me a dim reawakening into consciousness.

All of a sudden, through the dark haze, I felt something.  It was a moment before I could even remember what it was to feel.  There was pressure, on my lips.  At first I didn’t know what to do.  I couldn’t even know how to tell if it was real.  But the warmth of those lips awoke an instinct in me.  So, I kissed back.  I applied a little pressure at first.  I could feel the stranger’s lips responding to mine.  They seemed to lightly pull away, perhaps surprised, but then they began to move with more intensity. For a few glorious seconds it was like a fire ignited at my lips and spread warmth through my body.  Suddenly the pressure was gone and I could tell the kissing stranger had risen up rapidly.

I opened my eyes.  My mind slowly remembered what it was to see.  Then it slowly tried to decide what I was seeing.  Staring back at me was this hansom stranger.  I’ll admit, that even in the fog that was still my drowsy mind, I could tell he was hansom.  Behind him stood what looked like the entire village.  I was confused. I felt disoriented.  My head was lightly spinning.  Suddenly, I realized I was lying down, for what felt like quite some time.  I tried to sit up, but I quickly laid back down as my head spun faster.

For a few minutes I just laid there, gazing at the eyes of that stranger.  He must have been in shock at my waking up, because he just gazed back.  A stream of different emotions and thoughts ran through his eyes, each flashing there before being quickly replaced by another.

The silence finally became too uncomfortable for the villagers.  Many were shifting awkwardly.  Finally, a village elder near the stranger coughed.  The elder nudged him in my direction, with an encouraging nod of the head.  The stranger seemed to snap from a trance, and mumbled, “Oh, right.”  He then reached his arm toward me and helped me out of the glass coffin.

The sudden rush of sensation that I had been lacking for so long has pressed those first few moments solidly in my memory.  I remember the feel of the cold stones of the square beneath my bare feet.  I remember the slight tremble that passed through my legs as I tested my ability to stand.  I am now surprised I could stand at all, given I was asleep for five years.  But that’s magic, I guess.  The weight of my head was great.  I thought it was just from my being weak and confused, but when I moved my hands by my side I felt hair brushing against them.  I was surprised to find my hair had grown down to my knees.

As I stood there regaining my sense of self in the world, I could hear the murmur of the villagers around me.  Their words were indistinct to my ears, but I saw many of them hugging each other, or shaking hands with the stranger.  A few even came forward to embrace me.  For my part, I just stood there lifeless while everyone moved around me.

Suddenly, I noticed a ripple in the gathering.  A man dressed in a palace guard uniform quickly wended his way towards the stranger.  He then turned to address the crowd.  “I bring word from the castle.  The king and queen are restored from stone!  The usurper is wrestled from the throne and his witch has been imprisoned!”

A loud cheer rose up from the crowd.  The messenger then addressed the stranger. “Are you the one who defeated the evil witch and freed the royal family from their curse?”

The stranger replied, “I am he.  I am Prince Sebastian from the kingdom of Everhearst, and I have freed your kingdom from the clutches of that evil witch.”  Again, a cheer rose up from the crowd.

“Then make haste to the castle, there is much to settle.”  With those words the messenger retreated the way he came.

The prince then finally addressed the villagers.  “The princess and I must take our leave.  My horse!”  He waved his hand in a grand, regal gesture.

Again, the crowd murmured awkwardly. Perhaps they were expecting more of a speech.  Soon, a man was leading the prince’s horse into the center of the square to where we stood.  With one fluid movement, the prince alighted onto the horse.  He then positioned the horse in front of me.

As he reached down to lift me onto the horse, our eyes met again, this time his eyes were looking straight into mine.  There was an intensity in those warm, brown eyes that I could not read.  In that instance it felt as if my heart stopped, and began to rapidly beat again.  I felt another rush of warmth through my body, and I involuntarily brushed my fingers to my lips.  A flash of something ran through the prince’s expression.  He then said to me, “Your hand, please, your highness,” as he thrust his own hand closer to me.  I raised my arm and laid my hand into his.  His strong arm effortlessly lifted me up, and I positioned my legs over the horse.  At first, I was hesitant to grab onto this strange prince, but as the horse began to gallop, I wrapped my arms tightly around his waist.  I closed my eyes, letting myself drown in the security of that grasp as we rode off toward the castle.