by Zee bo Bee
~Once upon a time, in a kingdom, far-far away, there lived a princess... ~
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A white sheet with knots at regular intervals lowered itself from a dinghy old window. The light, that shone from the window was dim, suggesting a candle, or a bedside lamp and the face that peered out from the window, just above the labouring hands that were lowering the heavy sheet was flecked with sweat.
No matter what anyone says, no matter how many books you've read and no matter how many shows you've watched, no one has ever told you what a difficult and tiring task it is to tear up one's own bedsheets - all the while trying not to make a sound - and securing the knots so that the whole thing does not simply give away when you place your weight on it.
But she was determined and she was about to do it. She was going to tie those sheets and jump. She would scale down her window and run away - perhaps to Roger's - but it really didn't matter, as long as she got away from this dismal house, away from her infuriatingly passive Father, horrible stepmother and her overly-selfish stepsisters.
As far away as she possibly could. It had taken her a while to realise it, but she was going to do it.
She was going to jump.
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~The Princess lived, after the death of her father, as the slave of her evil stepmother and wicked stepsisters in a pretty little cottage just beyond the Fields of Happiness...~
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As she walked away, she couldn't help but glance back at her house every now and then. It was dank and dull, even in the dim moonlight and she could scarcely believe that she had spent her entire childhood in that hovel. "Perhaps that's why I've turned out so dull myself!" she couldn't help but wonder as she walked.
Since Mother had died, and Father had remarried Gloria - who had brought her two five year old brats from a previous marriage - her life had been most miserable. She was expected, because she was the eldest, to spend all her time devoting on her two screaming sisters.
"Give Sandra her formula!" Gloria would scream at her. "Sally needs a bath!"
Of course, she had complained to Father but he would always brush her words aside. "You're their big sister now." He would tell her without even looking up from the evening newspaper. "it stands to reason you'd have to make sacrifices." And that was all he would ever say on the matter.
Occasionally though, he would add some variety to his comments. "Listen to your stepmother," he would say. "It's for the best." and she would be so infuriated that her words got stuck in her mouth and she found herself gaping like a suffocating goldfish.
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~One day, the wicked stepmother - ever anxious that the Princess might steal any glory that may come to her own two daughters locked her away in a dragon-guarded castle, and she was forever trapped, sad and alone, to await the rescue of her Handsome Prince...~
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'It's not fair!" she would cry into her pillow every night. "Father doesn't care anymore!" and indeed it seemed like he didn't. Father did not seem to care about what she thought when he decided to marry Gloria despite her fervent protests. He did not care that since her stepmother's arrival she had been doing almost nothing but change diapers and mix formulas for her two wailing stepsisters
But worst of all, did not seem to care that she was most devastated by the fact that she would have to drop out of college because her father could no longer afford to school her and raise two brats at the same time.
"It's your mistake!" she had told him him, rage spilling out of her ears and nose "For marrying that awful woman in the first place!" It was the angriest she had ever been when confronting her father. "Why should I pay for your mistakes?!"
But he never provided her an answer. At least, not the answer she was looking for. "You're the big sister now," he said - voice barely above a whisper - "it stands to reason you'd have to make the sacrifices."
But she wouldn't. Not any longer. She was sick and tired of waking up in the middle of the night with a sense of dread. She was sick and tired of pning over a life with no future. She was sick and tired of sacrifices.
And so, that very night, she had tied the sheets, and jumped.
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~The Princess pined alone in her tower every night. She had no one to accompany her, you see, except for the monstrous wyrm that prevented her escape, and her own reflection which was so beautiful even the stars would sigh with jealousy...~
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The streets were damp, and the bottom half of her jeans were soaked through with water from the murky puddles. The air had somehow conspired to be both damp and cold and she rubbed her hands together for comfort.
Every now and then she'd pass the window of an empty shop - its owners either out of business or long gone to more promising areas - and she would stare at her reflection. "What a sight I'd be when I show up at Roger's!" she thought.
She had never been a vain girl. Not once in her life, did she partake in any acts of frivolous vanity. Never had she clambered over hordes of females to purchase that top that was, according the various sources the "Hottest thing since Gladiator Sandles!". Never had she worn a speck of makeup. Never had she painted her nails with glitter.
She had always been this way, even when her mother was alive. "I have no use for them," she would say when her mother offered to present her with some nail polish, or a lace-trimmed top that even she had to admit was extremely beautiful. "Get me a good book instead!" And some would call that awfully practical of her.
But I suppose it is only fair to point out that she also, was never a very beautiful girl and there are others who would simply insist that she's resigned to the fact that no ammount of makeup, of colours applied to her nails, or a top so strategically placed, would make her look any less dumpy, dull and ordinary as she looked.
But eitherway, she didn't care.
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~One day the Princess heard the most beautiful sound in the world, the clear, ringing call of a horn, and she knew that her Handsome Prince had finally come to rescue her. That he would slay the dragon, break down the wooden door that separated her tower from the rest of the castle, and gracefully sweep her off her feet into eternal and everlasting bliss...~
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Even as she walked she could not help but feel guilty. IT was perhaps, rather rash of her to quite suddenly take off from her home without a word. But then again, she was reminded of all the injustice done to her, and then, of all the times she had been so horrendously wronged, and finally, of all the apologies and expressions of gratitude she had never once seen, and she was suddenly quite angry and determined again.
"There is no way on earth," she insisted, "that I could live the rest of my life in that house!" She had an aunt you see - who had died some ten years ago - and Aunt Mabel, was the most shrivelled up, crooked, gray old thing in the world.
In fact, she was so pathetic in stature and appearence that you couldn't help but hold your breath whenever you were around her. It seemed that she was so fragile even a good strong breath would be enough to do her in.
Aunt Mabel had, you see, spent her entire life looking after her reckless fool of a brother and had gone into stroke when he one day fled the country, leaving her with thousands of dollars worth of gambling debts. She had paid up every single cent from her own retirement plan, and then, even invited her brother back into her house - when the whole sordid affair was over - and although she never uttered a single complaint, she never recovered.
Some might say that it was extremely self-sacrificing of Aunt Mabel, and indeed it was. But as she splished her way through puddles of rainwater she decided that the life of a Martyr was not meant for her.
"Never!" she said to herself. "I'm not going to end up like sorry old Aunt Mabel!" And so, she single-handedly fought her way, through the puddles and cold, to her salvation.
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~The Handsome Prince and the Princess were to be married by sun-down and the Princess wore a beautiful dress, sewn by the finest of silk which was made for her by the little mice, and lizards, and all sorts of strange creatures which she had befriended during her long stay in the tower...~
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She stopped in front of the pale blue door. Number _2 it read - the space where the number 1 had long ago fallen off. In the dim light of the corridor she couldn't help but stare down at herself. Her jeans were muddy from all the puddles and her hair, which had gone greasy from the damp, humid air hung about her head in dank, limp strands.
"What a sight I must look!" she thought again. Any ordinary girl would probably freshen up, if only a little, before entering her boyfriend's house, a little powder from the nose, or perhaps even some fingers through the hair. Anything that would lessen the blow.
But she simply raised her knuckles and rapped sharply on the door.
It opened, not five seconds later, flooding the corridor with the moving lights from Roger's television set, and before he could say anything, she stumbled into the warm, enveloping embrace that was Roger's chubby arms and allowed herself to be kissed by the chapped lips on Roger's kindly, but pock-marked face.
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~The Princess married her Handsome Prince and they lived happily ever after.
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She stayed with Roger for about a year or so, taking odd jobs here and there to make ends meet. Eventually though, she moved out to a place of her own and, after three gruelling years of work and study, earned the qualifications to become a teacher which she does now, at a girl's school. She is also one of those women who meet up once a month to discuss the progress of women equality and empowerment in the world today.
In her opinion, running away was the best thing that had ever happened in her life, and she most often told this story again and again, to the hordes of girls who always sign up for her Feminist Studies lecture every year. She would tell it to them, when she talked about empowerment an she would tell it to them whenever one of her students voiced out the nature of fairy-tales and the need for women to be rescued from their predicaments.
"There was no princess," she would tell her hall of eager students. "No mice and lizards who can make beautiful dresses from silk, or fairy-godmothers who can turn rotten old pumpkins into splendid carriages."
"You see, in some fairy tales, the girl is neither a princess nor a heart-stopping beauty. In some fairy-tales, there are no handsome princes. There are just girls who do what they have to, to get what they want.
And they usually do.
And such stories may be different, but they are still fairy-tales nontheless."
And she lived, independant, empowered and happily ever after.
PEACE OUT
