Just as fair warning, this is my least favorite oneshot that I've done. I don't think it's incredibly good. Just so you know.
If this were a fairytale, she would have been stuck in a tower surrounded by a lava-filled moat and guarded by a dragon, waiting for Prince Charming to come save her.
If this were a fairytale, she would have been given a gift, a mirror or a glass slipper, that she wouldn’t know the true meaning of until she met her prince.
If this were a fairytale, she would be in a deep sleep, waiting for a simple kiss to make everything better.
If this were a fairytale, she would have a talent, the ability to talk to animals or inanimate objects, and she would definitely be able to sing.
If this were a fairytale, it would have a happy ending.
Unfortunately, this was not a fairytale. This reality, and the reality was, fairytales were in books, not life.
There were two things Thirteen had noticed about fairytales. Number one: they always had happy endings, and number two: they always revolved around true love, usually with a prince.
Thirteen didn’t know any princes, and she certainly didn’t have a true love, but even if she did, her life was no fairytale, not even close.
She hadn’t read fairytales since she was six, when she’d packed all her storybooks, along with a great deal more of her possessions, away in a box and stored it in the back of her closet, never to be opened again, but she knew the basics: Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, Rapunzel.
To Thirteen, the hospital was her tower, fear was her lava moat and her dragon, and hope had been Prince Charming, but now that hope had been whisked away, it was like hearing that Prince Charming had been killed along the journey or decided to rescue some other princess.
The only thing that could save her now was a superhero, but superheroes weren’t in fairytales. They were in comic books, and that would be a completely different metaphor, in which the Joker was fear and Batman had been hit by a train.
Once upon a time, there was a girl who lived in fear. Then one day, her fears were confirmed. The End.
Some fairytale, there wasn’t even a ‘happily ever after.’ There wasn’t even a prince. There wasn’t even a glass slipper. There wasn’t even a ball at the castle or seven dwarfs. She didn’t even have a fairy godmother. If she did, she knew what she’d wish for. She didn’t even have really long hair, and if she did, she’d never let someone climb up it. She’d probably yell down at them: “You came all this way and you didn’t bring a ladder?”
Well, at least this way she knew. At least this way she wouldn’t sit in a tower waiting for a prince that would never come. At least this way she knew she wasn’t in a fairytale. Never had a fairytale princess died alone. They probably never even died.
At least this way, she knew her ending wouldn’t be happy.
If this were a fairytale, she would have been stuck in a tower surrounded by a lava-filled moat and guarded by a dragon, waiting for Prince Charming to come save her.
If this were a fairytale, she would have been given a gift, a mirror or a glass slipper, that she wouldn’t know the true meaning of until she met her prince.
If this were a fairytale, she would be in a deep sleep, waiting for a simple kiss to make everything better.
If this were a fairytale, she would have a talent, the ability to talk to animals or inanimate objects, and she would definitely be able to sing.
If this were a fairytale, it would have a happy ending.
Unfortunately, this was not a fairytale. This reality, and the reality was, fairytales were in books, not life.
There were two things Thirteen had noticed about fairytales. Number one: they always had happy endings, and number two: they always revolved around true love, usually with a prince.
Thirteen didn’t know any princes, and she certainly didn’t have a true love, but even if she did, her life was no fairytale, not even close.
She hadn’t read fairytales since she was six, when she’d packed all her storybooks, along with a great deal more of her possessions, away in a box and stored it in the back of her closet, never to be opened again, but she knew the basics: Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, Rapunzel.
To Thirteen, the hospital was her tower, fear was her lava moat and her dragon, and hope had been Prince Charming, but now that hope had been whisked away, it was like hearing that Prince Charming had been killed along the journey or decided to rescue some other princess.
The only thing that could save her now was a superhero, but superheroes weren’t in fairytales. They were in comic books, and that would be a completely different metaphor, in which the Joker was fear and Batman had been hit by a train.
Once upon a time, there was a girl who lived in fear. Then one day, her fears were confirmed. The End.
Some fairytale, there wasn’t even a ‘happily ever after.’ There wasn’t even a prince. There wasn’t even a glass slipper. There wasn’t even a ball at the castle or seven dwarfs. She didn’t even have a fairy godmother. If she did, she knew what she’d wish for. She didn’t even have really long hair, and if she did, she’d never let someone climb up it. She’d probably yell down at them: “You came all this way and you didn’t bring a ladder?”
Well, at least this way she knew. At least this way she wouldn’t sit in a tower waiting for a prince that would never come. At least this way she knew she wasn’t in a fairytale. Never had a fairytale princess died alone. They probably never even died.
At least this way, she knew her ending wouldn’t be happy.
