The End of Grimm's

Breathless, I run down Pennsylvania Avenue toward the White House. I’m finally going to be an activist with a cause. It's difficult to tell if I am carrying the sign or it's carrying me. The placard is bigger than I am and the wooden stick is hitting the back of my legs as I hustle down the thorofare. I am close to on time, hoping that’s good enough, as I turn the corner towards Lafayette Square. Twitter informed us to converge on this famous piece of real estate and head over to the executive mansion, taking up our individual causes. It would suck to be tardy for my first protest.

I am here to win freedom for literary operatives being imprisoned for years. For decades I and millions of others have stood silently by, watching their pain and discomfort over and over like in Ground Hog Day. The spotlight finally will be shown on them. This cast of characters will at last get the focus of the global community. It is their turn to bask in the limelight of freedom.

“What’s your sign about?” shouts a passerby.

“I’m representing a group of characters that have been oppressed for years,” I shout back and keep making my way to the front of the crowd that has been gathering. It’s him, I see him. My heart is beating wildly. I’m in the presence of an Oprah guru, the maven of motivational speakers. The people hush and there he stands, god-like, on a large boulder under a pear tree in the middle of this heavenly park. Our forefathers spirits can be felt in the breeze moving through the trees. The ground seems to quiver as he speaks.

“Welcome my fellow patriots,” his voice booms through the air, “Each of us has our own words in our hearts.” He nods and raises his arms, “Each of us stands for what we believe in and why we are here today,” we all yell in support, “Each of us will make a difference now.” Cheers fill the venue. “Let me hear you say YES WE WILL.”

Everyone standing around me starts shouting, “YES WE WILL.”

“I can’t hear you,” he raises his voice, “Let me hear you say YES WE WILL.”

We ramp it up and repeat, “YES WE WILL.” It is glorious. We take up our signs and hold them high into the air, and begin to walk in the direction of the presidential residence.

“What’s your cause?" asks a fellow supporter.

“I want to free Rapenzel from the tower, Hansel and Gretal from the mean witch, Cinderella from her wicked stepmother, save Red Riding Hood from the Big Bad Wolf and all the other suffering Grimm’s Fairy Tale personnel,” I share with him as we pick up the pace to keep up with the others. “And you?”

“I’m representing all of us that want to bring attention to climate change and what each of us can do to help save our planet,” he took off in the direction of his friends leaving me behind to struggle with my picket sign.

I lean my sign against the fence proudly revealing the words written in red paint, Give Freedom to the Grimm People Now! I clear my throat and begin to speak, “Many might think my cause is frivilous. Unimportant. Yet not for me," I pause for emphasis, "I have heard these tales for decades being spread from generation to generation. It must stop now. These stories are plain creepy. They are frightening. Children everywhere are losing sleep.”

People begin to gather around me, “They have nightmares. Dreams filled with violence and torture. It’s not alright anymore. Perhaps when they were written the life and times were different. Today, children need sweet stories at bedtime. Characters that are warm and caring. Role models doing the right thing should fill their thoughts as they slumber.”

“You are right,” someone shouts out.

We’re sick of kids crying over this crap for a hundred years,” another adds for support.

“Death to fairy tales,” an angry voice heard over the rest.

That’s a little harsh, I'm thinking and continue, “I’ve given this a lot of thought and consideration for the authors of these scary writings. I’m not alone, I have the support of therapists that specialize in young people's mental health issues. The majority agree that video games with bombings, killings, automatic weapons, attacks on innocent people, and other atrosities are distainful enough in the daylight hours. Bedtime should be filled with sugar plum fairies and a sense of well being. Let’s banish the Brother’s tales once and for all.”

I hold my sign up, I move out in front of my followers and start walking up and down in front of the President's House. "Hey," I call out to my group leader, "Here's a few bucks, grab some sodas at that booth - the one with the t-shirts and tourist paraphernalia." We all chug down the cold liquid - it's unbelievably hot, record high temperatures - sweat runs down my face. I feel energized and committed to walk the walk till sunset. Why you ask? I am an activist...Then slightly embrassed I turn to my team, "I do have to head home early tonight - can't miss America's Got Talent... it's the finals."