Twisted Fairytale

“And now, our very own Charming! Welcome to ‘Find Your Perfect Princess!’ boomed the dating show host, Cruella. “Now say, how does it feel to be in the famous Deville Theater, Charming?” Cruella asked, her over-coated eyelashes fluttering.“Great Stella, just great,” Charming said, preoccupied by the course of events that was about to take place.

“It’s Cruella,” she replied, slightly miffed but not enough to stop her outrageous flirting. She fluffed her brittle, black hair and gazed wistfully at the contestant. Her gray eyes would have been pretty on any other person, but with premature crow’s feet frames and plenty of other lines, she just looked over-worked and jealous. Which was, in essence, what she was.
Next to Cruella’s mediocrity, her companion was stunning. Charming’s hair was a golden brown and flowed to just beneath his ears. His eyes were a shocking electric blue, and his skin had a slight olive under-tone to it. Whenever a lady in the audience looked his way, which, mind you, was quite often, they would look away and giggle. None of them seemed to notice his evident cockiness, or if they did, his good looks made up for it their minds.
“Now,” Cruella said loudly, interrupting the ladies’ ogling as she leaned closer to Charming, “ we meet our three princesses.” She turned to face the right of the stage where three silhouettes and the numbers 1, 2, and 3 on doors stood on the wall. “Princess number one enjoys living in giant gourds, crashing balls and leaving behind certain items of clothing. In her spare time she gets tutored for her ditziness.” The spotlight moved to the second door. “This princess, number two, likes taking care of little mythical creatures with beards and colorful pointy hats. In her spare time, she sings to animals that feel sorry for the slightly whacked up princess, so they grab a mop and do her bidding before she whips them.” The green light moved to the final door. “And last, but only maybe least, princess three. She enjoys talking to candles and teapots and in her spare time she kisses furry hunchback bears that know how to waltz and have clothes from the 1800’s. I guess she likes older men,” she accused. “Your pick,” she purred, back to the eyelash fluttering Cruella again.
Charming sat there, and on his heart shaped face you could see the immense concentration that came with having to work his under-occupied brain. With a show of relief, you could tell his decision was made. He held up two fingers, put his hand on his ostentatious, purple, velvet waistcoat and said triumphantly, “Princess number three.”
Before anyone could even groan at his obvious stupidity, a loud screeching sound came from above. A gigantic scaly fist came in from above and snatched Charming up in his talons. When the hand’s owner stuck his head in the roof, you could see the fangs that marked it for what it really was- a jabberwocky. Everybody stared, not quite amazed, as the jabberwocky popped Charming into his mouth and crunched. He then flew away, and everyone started exploding with conversation again. The princesses came out of the doors, caught sight of each other and met up.
“Hey Belle, Hey Snow!” Princess Number One said. “That was so weird! I guess we should have, like, known. The slithy toves gired and gimbled in the wabe, like, this morning.”
“Yeah Cindy,” the one called Snow agreed. “And it was, like, brillig. Don’t forget that the, like, borogroves were, like, mimsy.” She turned to the one that must have been Belle, as if waiting for her two cents.
“Well, yeah, I guess,” she murmured. As she realized something she perked up. “I am glad kitty got Charming, though. That would have been my second marriage to that dingbat.”
“Third,” Snow announced.
Cindy counted on her fingers. “What comes after three?”
They sighed. “Four,” they replied in unison.
“O.K.!” Cindy said cheerily, pleased she had figured it out. “Then that would have been my 4rd!”
The others sighed at their friend’s obvious stupidity as they followed the flowing crowd out into the dark, raining night. From the theater you could just hear Cindy’s cries of amazement and annoyance as she shrieked, “Ah! My hair! I hate wet stuff. This rain is definitely, like, wet!” and the crowd disappeared into the darkness.

Twisted Fairytale

Curly Hatchy

Joined April 2008

  • Artist

Artist's Description

This is a story I had to write for an English project. The assignment was to write a “twisted fairytale,” so my piece ended up like this. Hope you enjoy!



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