Episode Two: Lunilla's Fairy Godmother

If I don’t sell that cow, we’re going to starve to death.

 

STARVE. I’m not being dramatic. I mean that two slices of bread are all I have left in the cupboard. Then nothing. I’ll probably give them both to Jack.

 

My Jackie-boy. He’s here in my arms. He still likes being rocked to sleep, though he’s a big boy for that, at six years old. I should move him to the bed, but I’m not ready. I like our time in the rocker too. To just sit here, in the quiet. Think of things.

 

And cry.

 

Yes, I’ve been crying. What are we going to do? The stupid cow has dried up! I HATED milking her, hated it every day! But the milk brought in money. Pathetically little money, which I cursed and crabbed about. Turns out that was better than no money at all.

 

This whole village HATES me.

 

I clench my teeth and refuse to cry anymore. I need to THINK. Jack feels heavy and I shift him, trying to cradle him more comfortably across my lap. His head rests inside my elbow. I push his hair back from his forehead. He’s got gorgeous hair, carroty red like mine, but it needs cutting. He won’t let me do it.

 

THINK! I have to break it down. That’s what Cooper used to say about problems: “Break ‘em down, find your choices, pick one.”

 

I’m trying, Coop.

 

But I’m not GOOD at this! I’ve never had to solve problems before, I just screamed at someone until they took care of it. That’s how things SHOULD be! I was queen of the Forest Realm. For years and years. And I was fantastic. My husband Cooper was king and we were HAPPY, until the horrible day Cinderella walked back into my life. Now Cooper is DEAD and I’m less than a peasant, banished to live in the Peak Realm. Where everyone HATES me.

 

My hands, holding Jack, shake with rage. I want to KILL her! In the most horrific way I can dream up. And her foul, hideous daughters! ESPECIALLY that one who stole the Beast from me and turned him on Cooper. He died because of HER! Now she’s probably living at the palace – MY PALACE – happy as a pearl. And I can’t get anywhere near her.

 

The rocker creaks under me, the only sound I hear besides the slow breathing of Jack. Gah, he’s heavy! But thinner than he used to be, which hurts my heart. I’m thinner now too, and I HATE it. I LIKED being a big girl! Now I’ve lost the pounds, lost my husband, lost my home. Living in a one-room shamble of a cottage, burning down my last candle. Besides the rocker, I’ve got the bed I have to share with Jack, and the only possessions we need to survive. Everything else I’ve sold.

 

I want Cooper BACK. I want my palace BACK. I want back EVERYTHING that was stolen from me, including my poor mother, dead for decades now. The only thing I DON’T want back is my sister, Melodie. She was always USELESS. And from what I hear, living at the palace – MY PALACE – and best friends with Cinderella, the new queen. Goes wherever the power is, doesn’t she?

 

She can die in torments, for all I care, with Cindy and the rest of them. I’ll do it MYSELF! Chop each one of them into little pieces. I’ve had dreams about it, fabulous dreams. Where they all get what they deserve.

 

But… I don’t know how. Look at me, I’m not the queen anymore. I’ve got no money. No servants. No band of Dwarves to fight for me – they hate me too! I’ve lost all my power. And I don’t think I’ll get it back.

 

I need help. But who would I ask? Not Melodie, that nasty traitor. Not the people of my village here. I had to get away from them, bring Jack to this cottage, up in the hills. Although EVERYTHING is up in the hills here! They don’t call it the Peak Realm for nothing, this mountainous region with hardly a flat field to be found. I HATE the Peak Realm! I want to go HOME!

 

I hold back more raging tears. Grunting, I inch myself out of the rocker and carry Jack to the bed, nearly dropping him as I stoop to lay him on the straw-stuffed mattress. It’s not large enough and my back aches every morning from bending around Jack as I sleep. He needs his own bed. But I can’t even afford another slice of bread.

 

In the morning, I’ll try again to sell the cow, that stupid old cow who can no longer be calved or milked. And try NOT to think about the paltry price I’ll get, and how that’ll run out too. Then there’s nothing left to sell.

 

I blow out the candle and squeeze myself onto the bed beside Jack, stroking his hair once more. I WON’T watch him starve. If it comes to that, there are plenty of deep gorges and cliffs in this region. I’ll cradle him in my arms like I did in the rocker. And we’ll leave this wretched world together.

 

Turns out I wasn’t done crying after all.