Frankie (grimacing): “Have you ever thought about whether we’re just sausages turning on a rotisserie of bad decisions?”

Bob: “Why would I want to think about that?”

Frankie: “You think I can stop? Do you know what it’s like when your brain won’t let things go? Like, ‘Do you remember that time in third grade when you peed your pants during the school play?’”

Bob: “Do you think maybe a therapist would help?”

Frankie: I tried that. And do you know, she quit after three sessions? How can someone just walk away, saying something about the ‘hopeless absurdity of the human condition’?

IF foe == ontologically evil:

      THEN kill

      ELSE continue

IF destruction == greater life:

      THEN kill

      ELSE seek further

IF ambiguity == true:

      refer to wisdom

          ("Even the very wise cannot see all ends")

      loop back and reconsider

IF indecision == excuse:

      THEN kill him

      ELSE bullshit

IF checkmate == true:

      end it.

IF no action:

      result == "All that happens now falls on you"

      you did this.

I want to learn to cackle

To laugh in that uninhibited way

That only a woman who has

Blithely discarded the chains

Of expectation can

I want to cackle at the body shamers

At those who think I have no place

In this magnificent world

Because I haven't birthed a human.

I want to cackle in their face

I want to cackle at capitalism

And unrealistic beauty standards

And the needless violence of men

I want to cackle like a witch

Like a woman liberated

I want to cackle at the leering eyes

And at the eyes filled with pity

And at the arch, judgemental eyes

I want to cackle at my own eyes

When they only seek to see my flaws

For what is a witch

But a woman come into her power

Freed from the crushing expectations

Of a society obsessed with controlling

All that is feminine

Oh yes I long to cackle

To dance around a fire

To mix hearty soups in a cauldron

To gather herbs in the forest

To whisper to trees and flowers

What bliss there could be

Living a life like that

Of peace and calm reflection

Of picking up the shattered pieces

And creating a beautiful mosaic

Of finding the person I could be

Underneath the hopes and wishes

The sadness and the trying to fit in

The bending and then breaking.

But first, I must learn to cackle.

Double, Double Toil and Trouble

The spoon’s encased in gnarly knuckles

Something's cooking – you ready to eat?

Promise the gamey taste can’t be beat.

The witch cackles and it lingers all around

Shivers run up and down at the sound

Steam rises from the huge, coal black pot

Holy hell – please don't say this is your lot.

“Come hither, dearie,” a crooked finger begs.

Fear invades, there’s no sensation in your legs.

“You’ll not feel a thing,” she says and cackles.

“You’re more plump and juicy than the apples.”

Eyes wide, you shake with fear and stumble back

You don’t want to be this old hag’s midnight snack

Your mouth opens wide to produce a scream -

Then you wake – thank God it’s but a dream.

Staggering, you head to the kitchen for a wee drink

Cause the old hag managed to take you to hell's brink;

The door swings wide - you can’t mask your surprise,

There stands the wicked witch in her insatiable guise.

“Come on, you have to jump now!” she yells as she pulls me hard towards the edge of the bridge.

As I teeter on the edge, looking down into the rushing water, I think, If only I could see her, maybe I could tell if she’s my guardian angel or just another demon living in my head.

When relationships end, I lose pieces of myself

Hack away at pieces of my heart

leave behind the entwined limbs of better times

cut off the hands I used to hold

They’ve all left pieces too

open wounds and blunt ends

I take a needle and thread to the blow-ups, the breakdowns, the back offs

putting together a patchwork of all the pieces that I keep

I kept the look in your eyes seeing me that first time

the love letter he wrote me before he was even called mine

I kept long walks and longer talks

midnights and magic

the feeling some people call sparks

I stitch together compliments and competition, whispered thoughts, a bold vision

I kept falling hard and loving slow

hands on my hips and road trips with no place to go

There’s a patchwork of memories that know the right thing to say

of a man who’s willing to play the long game

It’s bloody and real

passion and zeal

a bit of a mess

but damn,

He makes me feel.

"You're worthless, Red." Mother spits at me, "You got kicked out of another school?! Are you kidding? You throw away your future like an idiot!"

I stand in front of her, my cheeks reddening with fury, "That is not my fault! Bad luck just follows me everywhere!"

"Oh sure! Get the hell out of here. If you won't get your shit together then get out of my house, you little leech."

"You want me gone?" I ask, "I'll go to Grandma's house. At least she gives a shit about me."

I spin and turn fast so Mother can't see the tears welling in my eyes.

"The slums of Fiaba are no place for a young woman like you." I look up to see a hooded man towering above me. I try to walk around him but he blocks me, "Scared?"

"Get out of my way, old man!" I yell. Yelling helps. Nobody can hear the quiver of my voice when I am yelling.

He tugs on my red hood, "You really don't know what you're doing. Let me help you." His voice turns gentle, "I knew another little girl, many years ago who almost got killed wandering the streets alone. She was quite similar to you."

It's like a spell is cast over my brain, slowing my heartbeat and turning the fight in my limbs to dust, "Thank you." I gulp.

"But of course," He drawls.

I show him the way to grandmother's house, something is clearly wrong. The door is open. The house is cold and dark and empty.

"Grandma?" I call out, "It's me, Red."

I turn around and the hooded man is standing right in front of my face.

My blood freezes in my veins.

He's got a gun.

"Never trust strangers, sweetheart."

I squeeze my eyes shut at the same time a deafening bang claps though my ears.

A dull thump penetrates through the ringing.

I turn around to see a dead Werewolf at my feet with a bloody hole torn through him.

As ugly and disgusting as I am, you will not believe my story.

I am below the filth of the fields and am worthy of nothing. That is how I grew up. My bone structure and skin wasn’t appealing and my rags made other rags wilt in shame. I knew little of human interaction; just enough to sell the hair on my head for the penny that would feed me.

I traveled daily so that wouldn’t bother the normal, good people around me. Initially I was ignored, but apparently my face was so ugly it drew just enough attention to have me removed from town by force. I wish I knew what it looked like.

One day I sat below a tree to rest my aching feet and an old man joined me. I was more than a little startled when I realized he was trying to talk to me. The man had wispy white hair and his beard was like a cloud hovering below his nose. I noticed his dark and wrinkled skin and realized he must be a hard worker. Only hard workers had dark skin from the sun. I couldn’t be a hard worker.

“Where might you be going?” he asked. He was smiling, at me. I’ve never known anyone to do that before.

I shrugged. In reality I just followed the road to the next town and then the next one after that. Then I turned around and went back the way I came. The cycle always seemed to work for me. At the time, I didn’t know how to explain this to a stranger.

“Mmm,” he mused, still staring at me with that really nice smile. “do you like games?”

I shrugged. I didn’t know if I liked games since I’d never played one before. I loved watching children play in the streets and watching the older men play cards and stones were interesting enough.

“I-“ I said and had to clear my throat. He was old and I wasn’t sure if he would be able to hear my voice. “I don’t have a ball…or cards…or stones-“

The man laughed, “No, no, young lady! Not those kinds of games-“

I didn’t catch what he said next because my ears were ringing with the words, ‘young lady’. Everyone just called me a ‘hag’. It was true that I wasn’t really that old, but no one ever saw me as young. I could feel the heat rise in my cheeks and I really didn’t know how to respond.

“-so what do you think?” He asked.

“Um, sure,” I said. I hadn’t been listening, it’s all my fault. Before I could ask what game we were going to play he lifted one hand and snapped his fingers.

A moment later I sat blinking the shadows from my eyes. There had been a white light and for a moment I couldn’t see. I could feel that there was no longer grass beneath me, but cold stone. I dared not move. I had been in jail once for disturbing the beauty of the rich side of town. It had not been pleasant. Still, to be so kind and then put me into prison, well, that seemed like something that should be normal for me. So while my eyes adjusted I sat still and silent; it’s better to not draw anyone's attention.

As my eyes adjusted to the new light and I noticed at once that I wasn’t in a cell. I felt kind of stupid since it hadn’t smelled like one, but I had to see it to make sure. It was a singular room with a table, a bed, a wardrobe, and a small fireplace. On the table was a plate, utensils, and a goblet made of gold. The bed was big enough for two people.

Turning in a circle I realized that there was no door, only a single window. I stumbled to the window and, looking down at myself, realized I was wearing a large dress…silk, with LAYERS! And LACE! I was so stunned that I forgot about the window. I instead stumbled to the wardrobe and threw it open. It was full of rich and beautiful dresses.

I couldn’t find my rags anywhere.

Making my way through the silk to the window again I threw open the shutters and let out an, “EEP!” as I looked at a sea of clouds. I couldn’t see the ground at all. My vision spun and thought I would vomit. Somehow I was able to back away from the deadly drop and tripped over the hem of the useless dress.

It took me a moment to notice I was crying. I didn’t know what to do or what was expected of me. This was all very unfamiliar and, though it was just me and myself, I was humiliated. I didn’t know how I got here, or in a dress I didn’t know how to manage!

After I calmed down a bit, I took a deep breath and tried to focus on what i should do.

I won’t bore you with day by day details. I panicked and had fits for the first little while, then when hunger won me over, I figured out how to get food. It was strange since magic wasn’t something that was common- or even welcomed- in most countries. I had to ask the plate and goblet for what I wanted to eat and drink. At first I asked for what I’d always eaten, bread, water, and sometimes hard cheese. But then I thought that maybe I could ask for some meat and fruit and, forgive my reaching, but I asked for sweets. I’d never eaten so well in my life! I started to fill out and, magically, the dresses would resize themselves to fit my new form.

The dresses were something else I had to figure out. It took longer than I’d like to admit to take off the dress I had started in. And It took longer to learn to put one on. It was a good thing I was alone and could take my time in my shiff to work it out.

The fireplace was also magic, where it lit when it got cold and doused itself when it was too hot. I could open the window with the broom I found under the bed, but when it was open, I stayed on the other side of the room. I also used the broom to close the window.

Days melted together, and the only evidence I had that time passed was my hair, which grew to an impossible length. It had been irritating at first, but I soon got used to it and liked playing with it.

Then he happened to climb into my room.

With a grappling hook.

He stumbled in, heaving after what I was sure must have been a long and hard climb. He wore leather armor and his dark hair blew about in the wind coming in from behind him. I honestly was too stunned to speak. I had been sitting at the table enjoying some tea and cookies. When it finally occurred to me that I should be panicking he spoke.

“Princess,” he still sounded a little winded, “I’ve come to get you-”

What?

“-I am Prince Quin Hue Grimmton-“

Wait wait wait!!

“-I was met by an old man that said you needed rescuing-“

“WAIT!” I winced at my own raised voice and pressed a hand to my mouth. I stared at my feet. It was getting really hard to breathe. “I-i-i…I’m not…not a p-p-p-princess…”

“What?” He looked confused. I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak again.

We stood, well he stood, I sat, in silence while we each came to terms with each other’s company. After a while he let out a heavy sigh and plopped himself on the floor. He even laughed a little bit.

“Sorry,” he said, “I knew it was too good an opportunity to be true.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, why was he apologizing?! No one had ever apologised to me! I stared at my plate full of cookies and decided to offer him some.

“What’s this?” he asked as I brought over the cookies to him, trying extra hard not to trip.

“Cookies,” I muttered, my head still as low as i could make it, now second guessing myself, “Th-they always make me feel better…”

By the heavens what was I saying?! He was a prince! I was scum! How could I even admit I’d eaten them let alone offer him some!

As I stressed I heard him laugh. It was a lovely sound, but it still didn’t fix my dilemma.

“I would love a cookie,” he said, “And if I could ask for some water?”

“Um,” I set the cookies down and walked to the table, so flustered that I forgot to watch my step and fell flat on my face.

“Are you ok?” He rushed over and helped me up. He lifted my face to look at my head and i finally got a good look at the man in front of me.

He was tan, his eyes were a shade of blue i wasn’t familiar with, his nose had been broken - i’d say more than once - but it didn’t take away from the beauty or strength of his bone structure. My vision spun and if there ever was a time in my life I felt more like a cockroach, I couldn’t remember. Forcing my head down again I saw the cookies.

“Oh,” my heart sank and i began to tremble, “I put it on the floor. I can’t believe I put it on the floor….”

“That’s not the point,” he said, leading me to the chair at the table. “That was quite the fall.”

“Oh, oh, that was n-n-nothing…”

i could feel his eyes on me and I wanted to cry again. I was never a “crier” before. I took my knocks and I was grateful they weren’t worse. But for some reason I couldn’t take this level of stress.

"Do you want to be a princess?"

The question came out of nowhere.

"Eh?" Came my intelligent reply.

"Forgive my selfishness, but I need a wife," he said .. and he got down on the floor and locked eyes with mine. "If not, a betrothed. We need not get married so long as I can hold off the joining of my country with the other. I need to settle the major problems with the treaty. You see, if my country rushes into this…I feel as if there's something we've overlooked. My intuition is rarely wrong, but I need time. Will you give me that time?"

“Ah…” I was on a role. He took my hand, and pulled me to my feet. As he led me to the window I instinctively I dug my heels in. I wasn’t going anywhere near that window!

“Do you not want to?” he asked. I shook my head.

“T-t-t-to high,” I squeaked. He laughed again.

“How about this,” he said bending slightly to be eye level to me. “If I can get you out of this tower without you being afraid, will you come and be my fake bride?”

I was so confused, but he spoke with such confidence and authority I nodded without much thought.

He beckoned me toward the window and I made sure I was looking straight and up, not down. He grabbed my arms, not hard, but it still made me jump. He wrapped my arms around his neck so that my hands clasped in front of his throat. Then he bent forward and lifted my legs up to rest on his hips and I was clinging to his back.

"Don't be so stiff," he said turning his head to the side a bit. "Hook your ankles in front because I'll need both hands to climb down. Also, don't hold on so tight around my neck, or you'll choke me."

Right…it’s not good to choke the man that's the only thing connecting you to a flimsy rope! What was I doing?! I was touching a prince! I was going to be beheaded! Did i want to fall or be beheaded?

"Close your eyes," he said and I didn't need any urging. I could tell he was climbing out the window and my heart jumped into my throat as in my mind I saw the long drop down. Beheading was looking better every second.

"Keep your eyes closed," he said; before I was able to tell him that it wasn't working he added. "So, what's your name?"

"Huh? Oh, ummm, i-it’s, ah," I had to think for a moment. I only remembered my name on principal since no one had ever asked it of me before. "I-its Sabilla."

"You can call me Quin," he was panting slightly. "Prince of the Kingdom of Halron. Second in line to the throne."

Only second? Then why was he part of the treaty? This was not like the stories I'd hear from the the performers.

"My older brother is already betrothed," he continued, answering my unasked question, "I'm actually a military man myself, being the second son, but I was forced home in order for this treaty to be made."

"You don't trust your enemy," I mumbled starting to get the gist. I didn't know much about politics, but I knew that when one person has been fighting another for a while, then it's natural for them to mistrust each other.

"No, I do not," he said quietly, "We've been fighting for too long and are too different for them to suddenly decide to draw up a treaty. Things like this take time; it's just too soon."

He was seriously uneasy about it. I guess if he was desperate enough to try to get me to pretend to be his wife, whatever that meant, then he must really be in a bigger fix than I had ever been. I also didn't know much about the military or wars, but I'd been in a few fistfights. So I could see why the guy you had been beating up suddenly wanting to be friends would be a bit awkward.

"We’re here," He said suddenly interrupting my thoughts. My eyes snapped open to find that I was on solid earth once more.

"So," he set me down, "how did I do Princess?"

He had distracted me with chatter to keep me from thinking about the drop. That was very clever. I quickly stored that information in case it needed to be used again.

”So, Princess Sabilla," he said bowing and holding out his hand. "May I escort you to your new home?"

I blinked a few times and wondered what in the name of the seven angels I'd just gotten myself into. I couldn't pretend to be civil. There was just no way. I was a street urchin at best. Lower than that even!

"A-are you sure?" I asked, my eyes fixed on my feet. I had left the slippers in the tower. He straightened up and lifted my head. He was smiling at me.

"If I wasn't sure I would not have bothered to take you out of the tower," he replied, his hand still out for me to take.

I took a deep breath and took it.