Skip to content

Instantly share code, notes, and snippets.

@Zirak
Last active December 23, 2015 22:09
Show Gist options
  • Save Zirak/6700772 to your computer and use it in GitHub Desktop.
Save Zirak/6700772 to your computer and use it in GitHub Desktop.
Beauty and the knife.
1. Cinderella.

drip, drip, drip

What is that sound? Did someone leave the tap on? Is there a leak somewhere?

drip, drip, drip

Maybe it's raining. It hasn't rained in a long time. She remembers one rainy day in particular, from before she planted her wishing tree under which she weeps. She remembers the smell of sweat, clinging cloth to skin, streaming down a forehead. The all-too-red blush on cheeks. Wheezing and coughing and puffing, creaking planks and a leaky roof (her father will fix it, surely).

drip, drip, drip

How old was she? I don't remember, but she was only a child. It hit her by surprise, but could there be any other way for it to hit her? One day they were in the market, the regular bustle of sellers trying to seduce you into buying their goods and the hustle of buyers aiming to reduce its price. She clung to her mother's dress, looking about in certain awe even though it wasn't her first time there. One stand had a variety of greens and roots, another displayed caged animals, and another trinkets and amulets, to ward off the dark or make him realise he loves you. Her mother bargained over a baker's dozen, when her eyes fluttered, her left hand let go of the basket, which crashed into the ground, splitting eggs apart and sending yolk streaming down the pavement. Her mother hit her head on the counter and fell to the ground.

"Mom?"

Her condition worsened. Her mother screamed in her sleep. The fever came shortly after. No diagnosis*. She curled up in her cot, tears in her eyes, goosebumps crawling up her arm, and heard her mother wail. It started to rain.

drip drip drip

The soft splash of water seeping into a towel, the gentle squeeze and tug so it won't drip, and softly placing it over the fevered head. A relieved moan. Repeat. Rinse and repeat. It didn't help. Her mother's eyes darkened, her clothes drenched in sweat. Her mother called her to her deathbed. Made the child promise to remain pious and good. She choked on her tears, held her mother tighter, felt how cool she was in comparison. Burdened breaths...in...out...in...out...

In...out... In...out... In...out... ... ...

No more. The grave was a simple one. Her mother would've liked it, as much as anyone can like their own grave. The ground in front of it became moist from tears, and soon it became soft from snow, and not long after wet from spring's dew. And then the other one came.

She couldn't look her father in the eye. To bring another woman to sleep in her mother's place? She sunk back into herself, disconnected from her surroundings. She endured the pain showered from her step-sisters. Cinderella remained pious and good.

drip, drip, drip "Forgive me, mother..."

She planted a tree near her mother's grave. A white bird perched there. She often talked to it, the bird listened. Maybe it was her mother. It was most likely just a bird. But whatever she wished for, be it a tinderbox or the courage to move on, the bird granted.

Until one day, the second to the king's festival. Mocked by her sisters yet again. She knew what she was. They were envious of the "foreign princess", not knowing it was she. They pointed out the "foreign princess"' flaws. Her step-mother chimed in, and they roared like drunken pigs.

She went to her mother's grave. This time she did not weep. Resolute, she looked at the bird. The bird looked at her. She whispered "I wish for a butcher's knife".

drip, drip, drip

Red liquid streamed across the board, falling down where planks were not perfectly aligned. The basement needed scrubbing. It smelled like blood.

2. Briar-Rose

"If it's not rude of me to ask..."

"Oh, I think we're past rudeness" she said, putting her hand through one sleeve.

"...what are you doing with a guy like me? I mean, don't get me wrong, I couldn't be happier, but let's face it, it's not something which just happens" she stopped dressing for a moment, her face frozen. It then melted, turning into a mask of pity and humour

"Oh, you sweet naive man", she said, curling up next to him again.

"Do you believe in destiny?" "I-" "the day I was born, a curse was cast, so an evil fate will befall me on my fifteenth birthday. A curse lasting a hundred years." "wait, you're over a hundred years ol-" "And so it did. Mother and Father were stupid enough to leave me unsupervised that day, and of course I chose that day to wander around the castle, and all the magic triggers were pushed at once, and voila, cursed. Locked in a vine trap, deep in slumber."

She exhaled slowly and noisily, her hand playing with a lock of his chest hair. "And of course legend spread of the mystical castle entombed in thorn and the beautiful princess who oh-so-desperately needed rescue", she took a slight bow with her head to indicate that it was she, "and all those who tried, be heroic or perverted, failed. Until that one day, when the curse was just lifted, a man stupid and heroic enough came forth and broke off the curse with a kiss on my lips." She exhaled again, but this time a longing sigh, her eyes saddening.

"The narrator that day promised me something. And I'll be damned if that promise isn't kept", and with that, she stuck a knife through his heart. "A shame, you were a good guard".

--

"So, what was promised to you?" the bar-wench asked, clasping her bra. Briar-Rose quickly looked outside the window, towards the guard tower she recently left. A shadow swiftly entered it. She smiled within.

"I was promised a 'happily-ever-after', at least until the day we die. That's something that should be kept, don't you think?" She raised both legs to the chair, and wrapped her hand around her ankles. "But it turns out his tastes are...unique. He kissed me because he thought I was dead, or undead, or something, I didn't follow", her eyes dropped. "Things spiralled down ever since. Turns out being 'ghostly pale' doesn't do it for a guy who wants an actual ghost. I'd try to arouse him, but nothing worked. He left. That was not a happily ever after."

"So what did you do?" the wench asked. Briar-Rose smiled, dropped her legs to the floor, and invited her to sit on her lap. "What any good wife would do", she whispered to her ear, playfully biting it, "gave him what he wants".

--

Briar-Rose pulled her cloak up and hid in a nearby alley. Soon he'll come, her prince. He'll be happy of the spoil she left behind. He'll be happy ever after. And she'll be damned if that's not good enough.

Sign up for free to join this conversation on GitHub. Already have an account? Sign in to comment