02 December 2009

A Twisted Fairytale

This story was inspired by watching fairytales with my daughter.

Once upon a time, in a make believe kingdom where the sky was lavender dotted with baby pink balls of cloud, there lived a fair maiden named Cazzelle with skin as smooth as flower petals, whose hair was like silk and her eyes were like two shiny black diamonds. She had two stepsisters who were twins and twice as lovely as she was. But, she had no feelings of envy or jealousy for she believed that to each her own unique personalities and abilities that define. Briana was a good cook and loved to try new recipes that she always let Cazzelle have the first tastes. Brieta designs patterns for pot holders, coasters, scarves and Cazzelle was the one who would sit down for hours and knit them all.

The dove alighted on the fence for the 25th time. Cazzelle untied the green ribbon from its leg and took the letter from Prince Andrei, her quill pal. "...looking forward to seeing you in person, Cazzellina, my princess!", she read aloud, crossing and uncrossing her legs at the ankles while seated on her favorite green lounging chair by the bay window in her room. Weaving with words and pouring out her dreams in a letter was one thing, but actually talking to Andrei was another thing. Shrugging, she knew this day would have to come. It is in a person's nature to want to know everything, to unravel the mysteries that this world presents. She would have to do all the chores and knit all of Brieta's designs before he arrived in the afternoon. He said that he would be wearing a green cloak and would be atop his white horse with a red mane, so she would know it's him.

No dove this morning. There was no need, Cazzelle saw everything that transpired. The feelings that exchanged. She draped herself across her bed face down and allowed some tears to roll freely down her cheeks. Andrei loved adventures, he had written her detailed accounts of his experiences at sea and his island discoveries. He loved to tinker with small objects, he told her he changed the face of one of his pocket watches and made the numbers into pictures. She would have loved to see that! He seemed easily pleased and interested in her boring life and in her boring poems. What started their writing exchange was when she wrote a poem she was bursting to share with the world, to inspire anyone with it. So she tied it to a leg of one of her doves and had let it fly. She never knew it would reach one of the princes in their kingdom. There were many things she liked about Andrei, except for his preference for the physical appearance. He didn't look back at her when he decided to pursue Brieta.

When a sob escaped from her lips, millions of tiny, sparkling lights filled up her room. When all of it cleared away, Cazzelle was astonished to find a little old lady in a yellow hooded dress, sitting beside her on her bed. "Do I have a fairy godmother that I didn't know about?", she wondered aloud. "Apparently.", the lady answered, winking. "My name is Divonne, Cazzelle. Why are you crying?"
"Matters of the heart..."
"Oh, I cannot help you with that, then. Sorry."
"Can you at least bestow on me a slim figure, like my stepsisters?", she tried.Divonne shook her head. "I thought you needed something material, things for a ball, like Cinderella." Cazzelle was disappointed. "Oh." "You could try exercising.", Divonne suggested."Or letting Briana taste her own concoctions perhaps." "So, I won't have my prince then?" Cazzelle asked with a touch of sarcasm. Divonne put a finger under Cazzelle's chin and lifted her face a bit, "In time... I suppose. I am unsure of these things, Cazzelle. I just know that you deserve someone who will love you just as you are." Cazzelle sat up and nodded in agreement. "Thank you, Divonne." They hugged. "I hope you come here and visit me more often so I could get to know you. Not just when I am crying." They smiled at each other. Cazzelle knew that this was not the 'happily ever after' that her heart had desired, but she decided to choose to be happy, even without a prince. She would continue composing poems, something that she loved to do. Perhaps, another prince would receive her poem, one who was meant for her.
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