Wednesday, May 16, 2007

Fairytales

“Hey”

It is a call. Something authoritative. Something not to be ignored.

“What?”

It is an answer. (No matter how rude it may be) Something that even he will grace her with, even if they are enemies.

“Do you believe in fairytales?”

There was once a girl.

Already, she can guess his answer. He will vehemently declare the negative and then scoff at her for asking something so irrelevant when such an epic battle is taking place. And he will live.

There was once a story.

“Yeah. I do.”

Maybe not.

His reply shocks her. What ever happened to insensitive, action-loving, egoistical, chauvinistic men?

She was once a believer.

“What? You got a problem with that?”

He mistakes her shock for disbelief, defensiveness instantly replacing slight embarrassment. She smiles at that. It is not everyday one gets to see such a quick change of emotions.

The girl was young.

She has always hated fairytales. A damsel in distress. A Prince Charming. The evil defeated, gone. A happy ending. Rubbish.

The story was old.

Faster than the human eye can register, she moves, appearing in front of him, sword drawn, ready to cut. His face mirrors her own when she heard his answer. Probably wondering how she could move that quickly. Fool. Did he think women incapable of such speed? Did he think women to be dainty little creatures, tottering about in their heels and skirts ready to fall the moment wind blew? But then again, he believed in fairytales. Who knew what else he believed in?

But she never once wavered in faith.

Fairytales were created and believed by those who needed solace from the harsh world.

Fairytales were fed to foolish children by the buckets, making them weak and gullible. Easy to fool.

There was once a tragedy.

She has never liked humans.

She has always been strong.

And she has never, never, ever believed in fairytales.

The illusion was broken

The sword came down.

There are no such things as fairytales.

End

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