A fairytale
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Once upon a time there was a girl. And the world has never again seen a girl quite like this one. She organized her stuffed animals, wrote reports on the length of her crayons and she also thought too much.
This girl believed in fairytales because it did not seem quite logical that all books had knowledge except fairytales. Some knowledge had to be stored behind all the kingdoms and trees and princes. And that was when she began to hope that, someday, she would have a prince of her own.
In spring, her eleventh year of life, she got a big creamy white letter from a school. It said she was a witch – a witch – and that she could learn from them. She was happy because now she knew why everyone teased her.
It wasn't her bushy hair or big teeth, it was just her. She was special.
The train arrived on the first day of September. Her mother cried and her father was proud and the girl hugged them goodbye.
She was suddenly all alone in the world and decided to make friends – real ones, like they have in fairytales – and looked around for some.
Two boys sat in a compartment. One of them was to become a saviour and a hero. The other one just was. And he had dirt on his nose.
She decided that these two were going to be her friends.
In her second year she decided that, someday, she was going to marry the boy with the dirt on his nose.
Just because.
Her third year, she was alone.
Everything was cold and dank and scary and just plain wrong.
They forgave her.
In her fourth year she was trapped. She loved the boy with dirt on his nose, but it wasn't love, and he went to the ball with a beautiful girl.
She never was beautiful. She just was.
And her eyes burned when she saw his anger and hurt and, worst of all, disappointment.
That summer they became closer than ever before.
In her fifth year she decided that the boy with dirt on his nose was in love with her, and that was just it. She knew he knew, and she knew he knew that she knew.
It was all just a big tangly web, like a spider's but with fewer legs.
In her sixth year she broke. She broke into a million pieces and she didn't understand. This unsettled her quite a bit, as she always understood. Now it was all lies and broken promises and wet kisses but not with her.
There were death and betrayal and a lament from a phoenix.
And there were also going to be a celebration of love that summer. She hoped they could celebrate theirs too, and as the boy with dirt on his nose looked at her she decided that they would.
Some things she just knew.
In her twenty-first year of life, she decided it was time that they married.
The boy with dirt on his nose agreed and they did. He laughed when she celebrated the morning after their wedding with reading her favourite book. She loved him for it.
After that, she decided that she was going to live happily ever after.
So she did.
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