I thought I'd post one of my favourite flash fiction pieces. Hope you like it. Even a fairytale stepmother has her version of events...
JUST DESSERTS
I was told years ago signs heralded new starts, to remember there was no such thing as coincidence and I’d do well to heed these things. Much good that advice has done for me.
At last I stop running. At last I rest under this ancient fruit tree for a while and remember the idiocy that forced me to run for my life, pursued by angry dwarves at that – oh the humiliation. They came close to catching me too. If there was a species you’d think could be easily outrun, it’d be the dwarves but not for me it seems. I only escaped thanks to the underground river I knew about and they didn’t.
It is so galling to know I did have the luxurious life I’d always wanted. One stupid mistake and I threw it away. Mother warned me about my pride decades ago. A little humility and I wouldn’t be in this mess now. That hurts… But I’ve got to face it. There is nobody else to blame. I got my new start by marrying well, then one little problem rears her ugly face and I think get rid of her and all would be well. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have been.
The red apple was my big mistake. Sounds stupid, doesn’t it? How could one measly piece of fruit bring me down? But it did. Thinking back as I rest, wishing I had the usual dozen servants to attend to my wants, I know now the apple smacked of not thinking things through, which is unlike me, and of meanness, which is my besetting sin. I’ve been poor. I’ve known what it’s like to struggle. I never wanted to be that way again so I’ve always thought twice about unnecessary expenditure.
I should’ve realised extra expense would’ve been worth it to stop being saddled with a Goody Two Shoes of a stepdaughter. After all she is of marriageable age. There must have been a Kingdom and prince suitably far away we could’ve sent her to, happily married and all that. But, oh no, she was determined to cling to Daddy, wasn’t she? Nor did she make any attempt to get along with yours truly. All I ever heard from the whinging, spoilt little madam was how saintly her late mother was. Trust me, you get sick of hearing that quickly. But I admit I overreacted. I know that now – when it’s too late to do anything about it.
If I had been more thoughtful to the King’s wretched brat, just the once, I wouldn't be here now. I was Queen. I should still be Queen. And for some reason he doesn’t want to know me now because I refused to kow-tow to his kid. Yes she may be a princess born but I am a Queen. If Her Nibs had been prepared to kow-tow just a little, I would’ve reconsidered my attitude. But Madam would give nothing - why the hell should I be expected to do all of the running? Ironic, isn’t it, I’m running for real now. I never liked cross-country at school. I loathe it now!
I shake myself. I’m rambling, which I hate in others and dislike in myself. I should've remembered success happens when one undertakes a task properly. Knowing Snow White's fondness for desserts, (not publicized, she jealously guards her image, that girl is so vain and you should’ve seen how snooty she was when I first moved in, talk about pride), I should've baked a proper apple pudding, the luscious one with the caramel sauce, and poisoned her with that.
The way that girl scoffed puddings there was no way any apple would've been left in her throat for that chinless wonder Charming to get out. Still my one mildly amusing thought is given she likes her image to remain spotless he’s in for a disappointing wedding night! I didn’t disappoint the King. Why doesn’t that mean anything to him? How could anyone like, yet alone love that meek, wildlife-loving idiot of a girl?
Something hard has just hit my head. I’m not moving. I know what the object was. I accept this is no coincidence. Someone somewhere is trying to tell me something. I can see the object where it stopped by my feet. If I need a sign of the way my luck is going, I’ve just received it. I was hit by another bloody red apple! New beginnings, new starts – ha! They’re not for me, I tell you. Once I get away from here, I’m going to become a hermit. Even I can’t get into trouble doing that – can I?
THE END
JUST DESSERTS
I was told years ago signs heralded new starts, to remember there was no such thing as coincidence and I’d do well to heed these things. Much good that advice has done for me.
At last I stop running. At last I rest under this ancient fruit tree for a while and remember the idiocy that forced me to run for my life, pursued by angry dwarves at that – oh the humiliation. They came close to catching me too. If there was a species you’d think could be easily outrun, it’d be the dwarves but not for me it seems. I only escaped thanks to the underground river I knew about and they didn’t.
It is so galling to know I did have the luxurious life I’d always wanted. One stupid mistake and I threw it away. Mother warned me about my pride decades ago. A little humility and I wouldn’t be in this mess now. That hurts… But I’ve got to face it. There is nobody else to blame. I got my new start by marrying well, then one little problem rears her ugly face and I think get rid of her and all would be well. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have been.
The red apple was my big mistake. Sounds stupid, doesn’t it? How could one measly piece of fruit bring me down? But it did. Thinking back as I rest, wishing I had the usual dozen servants to attend to my wants, I know now the apple smacked of not thinking things through, which is unlike me, and of meanness, which is my besetting sin. I’ve been poor. I’ve known what it’s like to struggle. I never wanted to be that way again so I’ve always thought twice about unnecessary expenditure.
I should’ve realised extra expense would’ve been worth it to stop being saddled with a Goody Two Shoes of a stepdaughter. After all she is of marriageable age. There must have been a Kingdom and prince suitably far away we could’ve sent her to, happily married and all that. But, oh no, she was determined to cling to Daddy, wasn’t she? Nor did she make any attempt to get along with yours truly. All I ever heard from the whinging, spoilt little madam was how saintly her late mother was. Trust me, you get sick of hearing that quickly. But I admit I overreacted. I know that now – when it’s too late to do anything about it.
If I had been more thoughtful to the King’s wretched brat, just the once, I wouldn't be here now. I was Queen. I should still be Queen. And for some reason he doesn’t want to know me now because I refused to kow-tow to his kid. Yes she may be a princess born but I am a Queen. If Her Nibs had been prepared to kow-tow just a little, I would’ve reconsidered my attitude. But Madam would give nothing - why the hell should I be expected to do all of the running? Ironic, isn’t it, I’m running for real now. I never liked cross-country at school. I loathe it now!
I shake myself. I’m rambling, which I hate in others and dislike in myself. I should've remembered success happens when one undertakes a task properly. Knowing Snow White's fondness for desserts, (not publicized, she jealously guards her image, that girl is so vain and you should’ve seen how snooty she was when I first moved in, talk about pride), I should've baked a proper apple pudding, the luscious one with the caramel sauce, and poisoned her with that.
The way that girl scoffed puddings there was no way any apple would've been left in her throat for that chinless wonder Charming to get out. Still my one mildly amusing thought is given she likes her image to remain spotless he’s in for a disappointing wedding night! I didn’t disappoint the King. Why doesn’t that mean anything to him? How could anyone like, yet alone love that meek, wildlife-loving idiot of a girl?
Something hard has just hit my head. I’m not moving. I know what the object was. I accept this is no coincidence. Someone somewhere is trying to tell me something. I can see the object where it stopped by my feet. If I need a sign of the way my luck is going, I’ve just received it. I was hit by another bloody red apple! New beginnings, new starts – ha! They’re not for me, I tell you. Once I get away from here, I’m going to become a hermit. Even I can’t get into trouble doing that – can I?
THE END
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