Cinderella: If the Shoe Fits
Happily ever after is a load of crap fed to young girls who are looking for the answers to all their problems in the arms of Prince Charming. Let me be the one to tell you, sugar, the Prince only stays princely until he gets what he wants. So he buys the cow, and as the cow, you give him the milk, and the rest is history. The charm is history. The sweet words and midnight dances and noble sacrifices are history. The coach turns back into a pumpkin, and there you are: barefoot and pregnant with nothing to your name but a giant pumpkin. The Prince formerly known as Charming has dumped your ass because of family pressure. Good ol' Mama-in-Law finally convinced him that he was, indeed, too good for you. The girl from the slums is an embarrassment to the family, so out she goes. Here's your glass slipper with the broken heel, what's your hurry? In four months, you'll give birth to your legacy, then give her away. She'll be an orphan, just like you. She'll scrub dirty floors and be fed bullshit about princes and happily ever after, and you'll not be there to warn her that it's all a lie. She'll fall into the same trap you did, a vicious cycle beginning with once upon a time.
Sleeping Beauty has a Wicked Case of Insomnia
Happily ever after ended yesterday at 3:06am. I know, because I looked at the fading blue glow of the alarm clock when he walked out on me again. This time it's for good. He found a newer model with much less mileage, much less baggage, and he split. He told me he still loved me but that he just couldn't hang anymore. I was too complicated or some such shit. Ms. Replacement is more carefree, more positive about life. She doesn't ask many questions or disagree. She just nods and goes along with whatever. That's what he wanted all along. A porcelain princess, a trophy with no heart, no brain, barely even a pulse. He said I wasn't the woman he once knew. He said I had changed. Well, sure, I've changed. For one, I'm not in a damn coma anymore. I'm a living, breathing woman now. I feel things. I cry. I scream. I stay up late watching a marathon of Jersey Shore because I can't seem to sleep. I don't just lay there and look pretty. I fight my own battles now. He doesn't have to slay my dragons for me. I'm more than capable of handling that myself. I woke up a long time ago and realized that everything we ever had only existed once upon a dream.
Snow White and the Seven Packs a Day
Happily ever after should really just be called mildly content ever after. Because I am mildly content. Sometimes. But I've never been what anyone would call "happily." Happily to me means going back to nature, living as one with the Earth and the creatures and the little people. Happily means eating all the apples I want without someone hovering over me, nagging about how it might be poisoned and that I might die. Happily means smoking my cigarettes in peace without having to hear: "seven packs a day is a helluva habit." What can I say? I smoke a pack for every dwarf I miss. And speaking of dwarves, I think I miss Dopey the most. I miss being dopey myself. Since when did life get so serious? Castles and fancy dresses and proper crap like that? I wanna go back to the woods and draw water from my well and whistle while I work. I want that happily; I'm through with the mildly content. Castles and princes aren't for everybody, and they're definitely not for me. One day my prince will go, and I can go back to being me.
This is my cynical response to this week's prompt at The Lightning and the Lightning Bug, as told in three parts. Pretty ironic that it's cynical considering I came up with the prompt. HA!
Flicker of Inspiration Prompt #2: Fairy Tales
Rewrite or modernize your favorite fairy tale or take a story (book, movie, play, or memory) and turn it into a fairy tale. Lots of room to play around with this one, as long as you use the fairy tale aspect in some way. I've made the word limit greater this week, so you can develop your story further.
Word Limit: 1,000 words