And They Lived Happily Ever After

Edited by: Vrinda Rastogi

[tw: slight gore]

Once upon a time, in a land far far away where fireflies glowed red, lived a girl in a cottage at the end of the woods. Her hair was black like the darkest thoughts creeping into your dreams. Her eyes were that of innocence but when she smiled, it was swift, sharp and shrewd. Tales spun in the night about her adventures and ambition, kept up the little children who dreamed of going on quests like her to distant kingdoms, slaying dragons and falling in love. 

But you see, just like every fairytale, the girl at the end of the woods was cursed. Though she smiled bright enough for the moon to shy away, she was cursed to never know what happiness felt like. Her heartbeat echoed every emotion of hers except happiness. Rumours say that she has a rose, as red as the blood spilt in the Great War, inside a frozen glass. For every year that she did not break her curse, petals from the rose withered away. She was cursed to die when the last petal fell. So, to stay alive without a death date on the horizon, she had to find happiness and discover what it felt like. So, one moonless night, under the starlit sky, she stole away to steal happiness. 

Miles away from her village, past the blue mountains and fairydust flowers, lived a boy in the heart of the valley, with his soft smile like sunlight on cozy wintry days, famed for the happiness he radiated. The girl at the end of the woods would steal the happiness from him by the next moonless night. 

She treks past the blue mountains, strangling vines, red eyes in the dark, poisonous roots and lone wolves stalking her every move. The moon grew slowly as the girl grew more determined. The moon waned hesitantly as the girl rushed impatiently. When the last sliver of moon gleamed in the sky, the girl at the end of the woods reached the valley and for the first time, the birds in the valley stopped singing. 

When dawn tore through the horizon, the girl arrived at the doorstep of the quaint cottage of the boy at the heart of the valley. A garden of lilies and smoothened pebbles adorned pools of silver fish. The girl decided to steal some of the fish too. It would make a good dinner, speared and roasted over a burning fire. 

The doorbell chimed. The doorbell chimed. The doorbell chimed. The girl’s impatience blanketed the lilies, the silver fish, and the flowers crowning the eaves of the roof. Suffocation. 

A boy with the kindest face she had ever seen. A smile on his face, genuine and crinkling his eyes. 

“Hello,” his voice was honey lazily served next to candy and warm blankets.

The girl had no time to waste. 

She pulled a knife and stabbed him once. She stabbed him twice. She stabbed him thrice. The boy’s eyes grew comically wide and he stumbled towards the silver fish pool. She had stabbed him with finesse, of course.  He was not her dinner. The silver fish were her dinner, which were now sluggishly swimming in his blood that snaked its tendrils into the water and the pool turned maroon. 

“What a waste. The fish and you.” The girl pulled out her sharpest blade and carving knife and ripped his heart out. The boy’s eyes closed as his blood ran down the girl’s arm. The girl moves back to the cottage and starts carving. 

She carves the heart into a rose. Exactly like the one back in her home at the edge of the woods. You see, when curses can’t be broken, they have to be healed. Naive children who had seen her bury rose petals every year say she’s mourning her lover.  Fools. Every heart she had carved into a rose, withered away. How was she supposed to live and live and live? 

Then, the birds outside began singing. 

“That doesn’t look like a rose. Here, let me help.” 

The boy at the heart of the valley begins carving his heart into a rose for the girl whose hands were stained with his blood. Then the ghosts of memories appeared. The girl, now trembling, saw every moment the boy’s heart held happiness. He placed his heart carved into the most beautiful rose, in her hand. 

The girl at the end of the woods held happiness, felt happiness rush through her veins, the minute the boy helped her carve his own heart. Selfless. Stupid. Someone finally by her side in a long time.

Tales spun in the day about how the girl stitched the carved heart back into the boy and kept up the little children who asked if the girl who stole happiness and gave it back, was alive. If the girl still buried fallen petals every year. 

But you see, just like every fairytale, the girl at the end of the woods was not cursed anymore.

So, the girl at the end of the woods smiled at the boy in the heart of the valley who was already smiling back.

And they lived happily ever after.

The End.

• entertainment
• fairytale
• happiness
• heartache
• idealism
• story