More Unfairy Tales

by T F Carthick

  I watch from a distance as my brothers gather around her.

  “See that comb over there on her head. I have never seen it before.” It is Opti. Immediately Ency pulls out the comb.

  “Throw that dirty thing out of the window,” I yell from where I am. Achoo! Achoo!

  In a few minutes, her eyes open. She is not dead after all. Maybe it was no disease this time as well. I heave a sigh of relief. She seems quite weak, but she can speak.

  “I heard a knock at the door sometime after you left. I remembered your warning and did not open the door. But the person at the door continued to knock and entreated me to open the door. She said she was cold, hungry and lost. She would die if she did not receive timely help. She sounded so piteous that I got scared when she stopped knocking. I opened the door and found her lying at the doorstep. I brought her in and tended to her. Once she was better she said she was a hairdresser who had blundered into the forest by mistake and lost her way. She thanked me profusely for reviving her and insisted she would do my hair in gratitude for the good turn I had done her. The moment she stuck the comb in my hair, I felt a hard prick on my scalp and I lost my consciousness. I must have been lying unconscious till you came and revived me.”

  Phew! That was only poison, no disease. And poison, while deadly, is not contagious. So, I boldly walk up to her to join my brothers.

  Pessy is the first to speak.

  “This is no use. I think someone is out to kill her, most probably that wicked step-mother she told us about. And this girl is so gullible, we can’t trust her to protect herself. That wicked woman will somehow trick Snow White unless one of us is at home all the time to ensure her safety.”

  “Or somehow we manage to keep her hidden from that woman. We could build ourselves a new cottage in a different part of the jungle and move in there. But that would not help - she would probably find Snow White’s location as she did the first time. She also somehow found out that she was not dead after her first attempt on her life, didn’t she? And came back for a second attempt. No. Before we decide to do anything, we first need to find out how she manages to keep track of Snow White. We can then figure out how we can prevent the evil woman from locating her. One of us has to pay the palace a visit to find out more about her.”

  Introvertus

  “Mirror mirror, on the wall—who is the fairest one of all?”

  A tall, stately woman is standing in front of a large ornate mirror, which begins to cloud as soon as these words are uttered. After a minute or so the glass begins to clear, and Snow White’s graceful form makes its appearance on its silvery surface.

  “Is she still not dead? Has she managed to survive yet again? How many lives does this damned girl have? This is the third time she ought to be dead and is not—the second time I have tried to kill her with my own hands. Yet, she lives!”

  So, this was how the girl’s step mother found out about Snow White! And the reason for her wanting to kill Snow White is clear—because the girl is the fairest woman in the world and the queen is jealous. My heart fills with pride at the thought that the most beautiful woman in the world has chosen to live with us. And she has not put on the slightest of airs that one would have expected of one such as her. She lives in simplicity as if she were just one of us dwarves. She takes out time to talk to even one like me—the youngest, weakest and stupidest of the dwarves. Talking of which, it is a wonder that my brothers have chosen me for this mission rather than one of my smarter and braver siblings. But they had said stealth was the key for this mission. I, they said, had the best ability to sneak around invisibly as well as the best powers of observation. Come to think of it, this is indeed true. I have developed these abilities over the years. I do not want to be seen by people. So, I like to just stand in the shadows and observe. But I had never even imagined my brothers actually knew about this ability of mine. They generally did not take much notice of me. Nobody did. Until Snow White arrived, that is. Her arrival changed everything – she made me feel wanted. And accepted. And loved.

  “Show me where she lives,” comes the icy voice of the queen.

  To my amazement, our little cottage comes into view on the mirror. So, the mirror is the root of all the evil. I have to go back and tell my brothers. I am sure the clever Ency or the brooding Pessy would come up with a way to put an end to this menace. We cannot allow this to continue. Oh, my poor Snow White! The only one to have ever really cared for me! She is in grave danger. Any time now this evil woman will set out to make yet another attempt on her life. What if she succeeds this time? I cannot bear the thought of anything happening to our Snow White. No! I will not let anything happen to her. We have to do something quickly to save her. I have to rush home and confer with my brothers.

  Optimius

  I am a jolly good fellow. I am a jolly good fellow. I am not just a jolly good fellow, though. I am also a man on a mission. A mission to destroy the evil mirror. The wise heads in our group had conferred and decided the only way to keep Snow White safe was to destroy either her step-mother or her magic mirror. As long as either one of them remains, Snow White will never be truly safe. Killing the queen was out of question. We are dwarves, not humans or orcs. We do not go killing sentient beings willy-nilly, even if we have a valid cause. We are not humans—unlike humans, we value life. We decided we would let her remain alive and wreak her cruelty upon anyone she chose to, as long as it is not Snow White. She would surely meet her just desserts by hands other than our own. We did not want blood on our hands—we only wanted to protect our friend. So the one that had to be destroyed was the mirror.

  When the decision was made to adopt this bold plan, I was obviously the man for the job. I am like the guy who knew no fear. You know the story of that human who stayed three nights in a haunted mansion and frustrated those ghosts? I am like that—no worries or fears. But even that man learned fear once the princess entered his life. And I learnt fear and worry when our princess entered our life. Worry for her welfare and fear for her life. She is such a soft, kindly soul who has brought joy to all our lives, even Pessy who knew not the meaning of happiness. We cannot allow anything to happen to her.

  So here I am on my way to the palace, to the queen’s chamber, following the instructions given by Intro on finding my way to the palace and then within the palace. Pretty meticulous, that quiet little brother of ours. I had already made my plans. Or rather Ency and Pessy had made them for me. Pessy was the one who thought through everything that could go wrong and Ency figured how to make it right. And I the fearless executor. Dream team of sorts we are, aren’t we? I am to make it to the window of the chamber and destroy the mirror with a stone. I would get only one opportunity and I have to make the best of it, for the soldiers would come rushing in the moment a sound was heard.

  I peer in through the window. The chamber is empty. I have no time to waste.

  “Crash!”

  My stone has found the mirror dead center. It shatters into pieces that fall all over the place. Mission accomplished. The mirror is destroyed. I run—swift like the wind, before they can start looking for me. I am the hero, the savior of the damsel in distress. The destroyer of evil mirrors.

  Alas! I have rejoiced too soon. For the high spirits with which I enter our home is brought crashing back to the earth like the pieces of the mirror at the sight that greets me at home. Once again, Snow White lies sprawled on the ground and my brothers are standing around her, in funeral-like silence and with deathly gloom hanging over their faces. Has my mission been futile—a case of operation successful, but patient failing to survive?

  Philosophus

  Lady luck is a strange mistress. She can smile, smile and yet be a villainess who can turn her face away when you need her most. As it has happened to our dear Snow White. She was lucky to have had as her first assassin a huntsman with that bit of warmth in his heart. She was lucky to have been left near our cottage and to have been able to find it before the wild beasts of the forests found her
. She was lucky to have missed death at the hands of the deadly visitor by a whisker not once but twice. But how much can lady luck do for one person? The odds were stacking continuously, and things had to eventually give way. And give way they did—for here she lay, dead for all practical purposes, and we have no way of saving her. We have tried all we can, but nothing has worked.

  The half-bitten apple lying next to her told us the whole story. While Opty was away at the palace and the rest of us mining, the evil queen must have returned, this time as an apple-seller, and again tricked the gullible Snow White into entertaining her. The girl had a heart that was too kind for her own good. The world is a jungle where only the fittest survive and what place had this poor little dove in a world of hawks and vultures? Luck was the one thing that had managed to keep her alive so long. And the moment luck gave way, she was done for, a poisoned apple claiming her life.

  With a heavy heart, we obtain a glass box and place her lifeless body inside it. This is one of Ency’s ideas—he is always the one with ideas. For paying respect to her departed soul, he says—the innocent girl with a heart of gold who lies dead in front of us. Death—a certainty for every living being in this world. To some, it comes early; to some it comes late. To the dead one, everything ceases to matter. The real tragedy is for the survivors. We are the survivors—everything in the world is so transient, no one can hold on to anyone else, the survivors have to let go of the dead. The only thing one can hold on to are memories.

  Our memories of Snow White are what we need to treasure, for they are the most precious things that remain in life. More precious than any of the gems we have dug out from under the earth. Those memories will bring us joy in the hours of darkness, and so we need to preserve them carefully. Nothing like a beautiful glass box to preserve those beautiful memories. We are doing this more for ourselves than for her.

  As we stand around her transparent coffin, gazing at her lovely face, my reverie is interrupted by the sound of hooves. I can see a horseman riding towards us in the distance. Is this death in his garb of the horseman of apocalypse? Is this death on his pale horse come to claim his lovely prize? As he comes near, I notice the horse is not a pale one but a shining back stallion and the one who rides astride the beast is not a skeleton holding a scythe to harvest souls, but a young man in hunting clothes. He rides right next to us and alights from his horse.

  “What have he here? Who is this lovely maiden lying in the box?”

  Before we can answer, he is standing over the coffin and gazing at Snow White. I know that look in his eyes. Love at first sight. And loss at first sight as well, for he has fallen in love with a corpse. What an irony, isn’t it? For fate to give you something with one hand and take away with the other. Whoever said Lady Luck has no sense of humor! A wry sense of humor indeed.

  Before we can stop him, he bends over her, raises her head and kisses her on the lips. My brothers are furious at this desecration of the remains of our beloved and are about to jump at him when we hear a feeble cough. Wonder of wonders, Snow White is not dead yet. He raises her to a sitting position and taps her gently on the back as she continues to cough. She spits out a large piece of apple as she opens her eyes. I could see her eyes gazing intently into the eyes of the stranger. She too seems to have fallen in love with him. After all, she is with one of her own kind after being denied the company of fellow-humans for such a long time. And what a fine specimen she has just encountered. Isn’t it inevitable that she should fall in love?

  As soon as she recovers a bit, he kneels on one knee and says, “My lovely lass, I am the Prince of Pressya. Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to my kingdom and being my Princess.”

  This is crazy. He had not even known her for an hour and is now claiming her hand in marriage. But then what did we know about marriages? It’s not like any of us has ever married. She turns to us questioningly. What can we say? That our association with this prince guy is too short to make any judgement about his character? That she must take time to know him better before she made a decision? He could be cruel, unfaithful or clingy for all we knew and all she knew. He could make her life miserable.

  But will she listen? Clearly her mind is made up. She is never the one for lengthy deliberations. Even Pessy seems to have realized that. He too says nothing. We tell ourselves—maybe she is good that way. Maybe her luck will continue to hold out. After all, her luck has served her well so far. Even in this almost-hopeless situation, lady luck had smiled upon her. I mean, how likely was it that the poisoned apple piece would stick in her throat and a stranger would come from nowhere and extract it? So, reckless though it may seem, she could only depend on her luck and go by her gut feel. We just nod our consent.

  The wedding happens with great pomp and show. We are the odd men out in a sea of humans. But she had insisted we attend. We stand in a corner and watch the humans put up an obscene display of wealth. The amount of food served at the banquet could have fed a village for a year. There was also a lot of drinking and merriment. On the surface everyone looks to be happy. But there are lot of whispers going on in the background. It is interesting how as a group they project collective happiness while having disparate sentiments individually.

  Snow White’s father, the king of the neighboring kingdom is also there. But he clearly does not recognize his daughter. He probably had hardly noticed her back when she had lived in his palace. Otherwise how could a father not have known what his daughter had been subjected to? Luckily her step-mother has not accompanied him; she would have definitely recognized her at once. She is probably mourning the loss of her beloved mirror.

  Snow White makes no effort to correct her father’s ignorance of her identity. That would only complicate the situation. Too many explanations and unwanted revelations would be called for. She probably thinks it is not worth it. There is no reason why she should have particularly strong feelings for her negligent father anyway.

  Soon, it is time for us to leave. We bid her goodbye and make our way back to the cottage, our hearts heavy at losing our friend. But we would have her memories with us always and the satisfaction that she is alive living happily somewhere. It is good for her that she could leave us. Playing charwoman, cook and seamstress to seven dwarves all her life would not have exactly been a Princess’ dream, would it? So, whatever had happened was probably for the best. It was good as long as it lasted. Now it is time to move on.

  We still have our cottage, we still have our mines, we still have our hoard of gems and yes, we still have each other.

  Lost Love’s Labors

  I don’t know why they are called “Fairy Tales”. If it were up to me, I would call them “Witch Tales”. Think about it. How many fairies do you remember? Other than in Cinderella’s story, does a fairy make an appearance in even one popular tale? No.

  But witches? We show up in every second or third tale. Who cursed Sleeping Beauty? A witch. Who cursed the Frog Prince? A witch. Who took away Rapunzel from her father? A witch. Who did Hansel and Gretel encounter in a jungle? A witch. I can keep going on and on, but I guess I have made my point. The Brothers Grimm and the Perraults and Andersons of the world have always given us witches a raw deal. But I am not going to let things remain this way. If no one wants to tell my tale, I shall tell it myself.

  So here goes. My story begins with a stranger coming to my door…

  I know, I know. Bit of a cliché, eh? But one can’t help it—that’s how most stories begin. Some, like Oliver Twist, begin from the time one was born and stuff. But this is not that kind of story. Anyway, I was busy brewing one of my potions when I heard a knock at my door. Now this was strange, for I rarely had visitors. At least not any more. There was a time when I used to live in a village and folks would flock to me for potions, charms and spells. I used to think that I was the most popular person in the village and lived in ignorant bliss for some time, until I was proven completely wrong! They actually hated my guts! Can you imagine that? They detested me. It
was such a shocking discovery! Those ungrateful louts used to come to me not only for healing, but all kinds of stupid things like love potions, success charms and courage spells. And I, like a fool, entertained them all the time, helping them selflessly without discrimination, never for a moment imagining what a brood of vipers they would turn out to be. I found it all out one day when I overheard the villagers meeting quietly and discussing how I was a danger to them. From that day onwards, I took to listening to what people spoke behind my back. And what should I discover? Every one of them feared, hated and despised me.

  It was then that I decided I had had enough of people. I would find a new home in the depth of the jungles far away from human civilization and devote myself heart and soul to what I liked best—the study of magic. What joy! Magic is never ungrateful like people. The more love and dedication you put in, the more it rewards you. But you nosy busybodies are not going to leave me be, are you? “What use is magic that is not used to help people?”, you ask. How like you! Why does everything have to be seen through utilitarian lenses? You sit and gossip from dawn to dusk—how does that benefit humanity? You organize a banquet and hog till your stomach almost bursts. How does that benefit humanity? You spend entire nights in taverns drinking yourself silly. How does that benefit humanity? You answer all of that, and I will tell you how my learning magic for its own sake benefits humanity.

  Anyways getting back to the knock on the door, I opened the door to find a young dandy standing there. A pretty boy in fancy clothes and most likely an empty head. What did he want with me now?

  “Madame—would you be the one and only Viviane, the greatest magician of our times?”

  Greatest magician of our times, eh? Now I liked the sound of that. Whatever his other faults, the foppish young fellow had the gift of gab.