A New Ever After

“Hang on a minute!” exclaims the beautiful princess, whose name so happens to be Arabelle. “Mr Narrator, were ya just about to say ‘and they all lived happily ever after’?”

“Well, that is how the story goes,” Mr Narrator says.

“Yeah,” agrees the handsome prince, whose name is not Charming, but Bob, ignoring Mr Narrator entirely. “Coz that’d be super-duper borin’.”

BANG!

“And,” adds Witch, jumping back out of the Abyss, “why does every villain always end up with their backside kicked by a hero?”

“That’s a good point,” says Arabelle thoughtfully.

“But we aren’t that super-duper desperate to change.” Bob looks anxiously around.

“So what will it be, Mr Narrator, sir?” demands Witch, flicking her hair.

Damn. Mr Narrator sighs, remembering a time when characters were far more obliging. And how exactly did this argument come about?

***

Once upon a time in a faraway land … lived a beautiful princess, with long red-gold tresses. Now her younger sister, with tangled raven-locks, was jealous of the elder princess’ exquisite, radiant beauty for it far surpassed her own.

Full of envy, the younger sister apprenticed herself to the dark arts so as to cast a spell upon her sibling. The instant the witch uttered the cruel curse, the beautiful princess slipped into deep slumber. But the poor-sighted witch hadn’t read the fine-print beneath the incantation:

‘This enchantment can only be broken by true love’s first kiss,

And if this curse is undone, the enchanter who uttered it,

Shall be cast into the Abyss.’

After many summers had passed, a handsome prince came galloping by. He stopped abruptly at the base of a tower smothered by vines, in the middle of a forest. The prince, brimming with curiosity, scaled the side of the tower on a tough vine.

When he reached the top, he found before himself a beautiful maiden in dark unconsciousness. Falling in love with her, he was compelled to kiss her. As the princess’ eyes gently fluttered open an echo resonated from afar; the harsh, agonised scream as the witch was sucked into the Abyss. Shewas gone forever.

The prince married the beautiful princess and they all–

***

“Hang on a minute!”

Right. That was how we had gotten here. Mr Narrator sighs. He’s definitely going to apply for a different fairytale to narrate next time he meets with the Council of Fairy and Classic Tales.

“Please could we have a fairytale where the villain doesn’t get their backside kicked?” Witch rubs her backside dramatically.

“No way!” Mr Narrator is utterly horrified. “It would spoil the whole story! No-one would ever read it again, not to mention the public unrest it will cause!”

“Ya dunno that,” scoffs Arabelle. “It’s never been tried.”

Mr Narrator rolls his eyes. “I wonder why?”

“If at first, the idea is not absurd, then, um, you should ... give it a go,” Bob quotes wisely — or at least initially, up until the memory becomes a little hazy.

“Come on!” Mr Narrator complains. “I’ll lose my job.”

“And…?” Arabelle asks.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Witch scolds him. “There’s no need for exaggeration when you’re not actually narrating.”

Mr Narrator glares at them. “What about you?” he pleads to Tinker Bell, who is sitting off to the side studiously ignoring the lot of them, teaching herself to cast pixie dust. “You know the story back to front because you’ve heard it since you were knee-high ... um, or at least pinkie-sized or ... whatever. Can’t you convince them that original, unabridged fairytales are better than these new, twisted ones?”

“Uh, nope,” Tinker Bell says, distracted as dust scatters everywhere and her crystal ball is knocked off its stand. She sighs. “I reckon you should consider it, Mr Narrator. After all, I have heard it since I was ‘knee high’—thanks a lot — and personally I think it’s getting a little boring. Wendy can only tell it to us so many times. No offence, though.”

“Isn’t there anyone on my side?” Mr Narrator wails.

“Nope. It would seem not,” Tinker Bell says smugly, smiling at the pathetic figure Mr Narrator is becoming. “And I’d like see what their Highnesses can come up with.” Tinker Bell blows a kiss laden with dust towards the royal characters. Bob sneezes.

“Well, I reckon the villain should have the happily-ever-after and that the heroes should have a taste of their own medicine,” declares Witch.

“I think we should have more romance,” says Arabelle, her hands clasped. Incoming-message bells on Tinker Bell’s crystal ball chime appropriately.

“Eww.” Bob cringes. “How about we have a, like, action fantasy set in space in, like, the three hundred and fiftieth century?”

“I was imagining a bloody medieval version with genocides and even some regicides,” the fairy says sarcastically. “Way more interesting than any of your ideas, by far.”

“Is not,” Bob says.

“And, what, yours is?” says Witch.

“You’re all ruining the point of ever having a fairytale!” Tinker Bell yells over the din.

“Am not.” The prince pouts.

“My idea’s the best yet!” Witch screams.

“Yeah right,” Arabelle says.

“Look, guys, I've got an audition now, so give me a buzz on the ball when you’ve sorted it all out, okay?” Without waiting for a response, which undoubtedly wouldn’t have come anyway, Tinker Bell BANGS! off to another faraway land.

“Romance is yuck, anyway,” Bob says.

“I’m still voting for the original,” adds Mr Narrator hopefully. No-one bothers to respond. At least, not to him.

The argument reaches combustion point.

BANG!

Everyone jumps in fright as through a portal hops a very green frog with a crown perched wonkily on its head.

“Who’re you supposed to be?” asks Arabelle with a sneer.

“I am the frog prince, from The Frog Prince,” croaks the frog prince eloquently with — was it his nose? Mr Narrator wonders — stuck up in the sky. “Thank you for asking.” Do frogs even have noses?

“And what’re you doing here?” Prince Bob peers down at the sprightly green thing bouncing around his feet.

“I heard all the noise and thought this conundrum sounded a wee bit more interesting than my own rather tiresome fairytale,” the frog says.

Mr Narrator stares. Well, apparently, you can’t get good characters anywhere these days.

“As for your dilemma,” the frog prince continues, “I believe I can help you there. The plot is the same, up until when the prince—” he pauses to look at Bob, “—kisses the sleeping princess. But the princess is actually the witch. Still, he marries her anyway. The witch had accidently cast the spell on herself because she was an amateur.”

Bob laughs because the idea sounds so ridiculous, but stops mid-chuckle when the frog turns his googly eyes on him. Arabelle grins as Bob smiles weakly, looking a bit green himself, and motions for the frog to continue.

“Thank you. As I was saying, the beautiful princess is still wide awake, and she is out in the woods, picking flowers when she finds to her utter amazement a rather dashing frog. The princess escorts the frog, who has intoxicated her with his froggy charms, to her castle and promptly announces her intention to marry him. When she kisses him, the frog doesn’t become a prince—”

“Why not?” Arabelle interrupts, mouth open in shock as her sunsets and knight-in-shining-armour dreams are shattered.

“Well, for one, I quite like being a frog; being human back in my own fairytale leaves me feeling all weird, with my limbs so distended. Secondly, I’m certain all sensible characters feel the same way,” he answers in a strained, you’re-wearing-on-my-patience tone.

“Oh,” Arabelle says. It’s logical, she supposes, that a frog prince may well enjoy being a frog if he didn’t live under the prejudice of being inferior to a human prince.

“So,” he croakily continues, “when the princess kisses him, she becomes a frog, and quite ribbit — oh, I do beg your pardon — enjoys it. So everyone lives happily and froggily ever after.”

“Sounds good,” Arabelle says, rather excited at the prospect of smooching.

“I like it,” Witch says. “My backside’s not being kicked and I get a happily ever after, too. What a bonus!”

“Yeah, pretty cool,” adds Bob.

“We’ll do it!” Arabelle says.

“This is absolutely outrageous!” Mr Narrator explodes. “We can’t do this. It’ll undermine the Council. And not to mention what it’ll do to my reputation. It won’t even–”

POOF!

“It’ll work; faith, trust and pixie dust me!” Tinker Bell chatters excitedly, sparkling dust flickering everywhere. “I was looking in my ball and I saw it! This new fairytale will be a sensational success! I've got to get back to my audition. but keep up the great work!”

POOF!

“So there,” says Witch. “You’ll have to do it now, since it’s going to be so good.”

“But … but …”

“Just do it,” Tinker Bell’s voice echoes — although whether only Mr Narrator hears it will never be known.

“Okay, fine, yes, I’ll do it. Everyone in position? Alright, here we go, one, two, three …”

***

Once upon a time in a faraway land . . .

. . . and they all lived happily ever after.

The End.

***

“Bravo, Mr Narrator!” croaks Arabelle in her slimy, green form.

“Yeah, it was awesome!” Bob fist-pumps the air.

“Absolutely brilliant,” adds Witch, whose princess name is Gwendolyn.

BANG!

Tinker Bell appears again. “I could read it again and again and again! And I got the character, by the way! What, isn’t anyone going to congratulate me? Fine, I've got to go anyway. Bye!”

BANG!

“It’s all thanks to me, of course,” says the frog prince. “But no need to say anything; I know you are all a thousand times more grateful than you could ever express.”

Arabelle looks at him with googly eyes bright with wonder. Bob finds it a little disturbing. Especially since Gwendolyn is looking at him with a curiously similar expression.

“Oh, excuse me, Mr Narrator, sir, may I speak with you a moment please?” begs a small voice from the side.

Mr Narrator sees a Council man standing there. Where did he come from? “Yes, what do you want?”

“I’m sorry, sir,” he begins nervously, “but it is my duty. I hereby give you a ticket for Over-Noisiness-Not-Due-To-Fairytale.”

Mr Narrator sighs “Oh … well, it could be worse, I guess.”

“Furthermore, you’re also receiving tickets for interrupting the narration of The Frog Prince and the auditions for Tinker Bell: Secrets of the Crystal Ball.”

“What? That is not fair!”

“And finally, you’ve been fired because you negated the contract.” The council man’s words are accentuated by the sound of tearing parchment. “The fine print contained a clause about not inventing any new revolutionary fairytales — or something along those lines ...”

The final straw. Mr Narrator loses it.

And this time, everyone hears the voice from a faraway land — the sound of bubbling giggles.

———

This story was selected and published in the 2013 In Fabula Divino anthology, edited by Nicole Murphy

The original draft of this story first written in 2008 when I was 12. I rewrote the story in 2012 for a short story competition for inclusion in an Australian anthology (under a pseudonym, Lily Ariser, as I was still in high school, and we didn't trust the internet as much back then!). Copyright reverted back to me in 2015.