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Fairytale - Part I & II

Written for Grade 12 English class. Topic: Love Week

Fairytale Part INovember 2003

Is it strange that I love someone that I don’t even know. Is it all a dream? Was it all a dream..? A fairytale in my mind? If so, may I write the ending with a hero that dies?

Then may I be the hero in my own mad fairytale, left without a lover or a fight? Left sitting all alone, a princess on her throne, with the vines in her mind twisting tight.

There won’t be any faeries, or a kiss or shining knight.

Or witches, Or dragons, Or such evils of any kind.

There will simply be a girl and the depths of her own mind.

There won’t be a beginning or a climax to suspend, then I’ll simply kill her off and that will be the end. And I wonder...

Won’t she look lovely,

drowned in a pool of her own rusty blood.

The Young Martyr by Paul Delaroche

Fairytale Part II November 2003

Why does death mock me so? Every day leaves me empty, save for anger laced with sorrow. As the days of the calendar are slowly checked away, I wonder where their path shall go... To Toronto I suppose, and to a boy I’ve come to loathe.

So why? Why? Why do I go?

If only to torture my mind and my soul?

This trip shall be hell I know,

But do I really know?


Somewhere in my head still lies hopes and dreams,

somewhere inside the faeries still fly,

and the dragons still roam ‘cross the starlit skies.

And a girl fills up books while waiting for her dragon.

Yet another fairytale I suppose? May I die in this one as well?

A maiden in a flowing white dress

With hair loose and free

I think poison it shall be.

From Mouth.

To Veins.

To Heart.

And I’ll lay among the wild, beneath the veil of the sky

A grave beneath my toes

And a wonder above my eyes

I’ll drift into the darkness,

and forever there I’ll lie.

With strings of breeze blowing through my dress and strands of hair

A passionate dance will spring forth

Reaching for nothing,


In waves the dress shall ripple down the contours of my form

The cloak of the ocean

Left peaceful after storm.

The heart has ceased to beat,

The breath has ceased to breathe,

And books are all that's left of a fairytale dream

A nightmare.

A scream.

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