The Cursed of the Forlorn Forest

I was the other. The unexpected. The unwanted.

The stepchild.

But so was she.

Of course.

Fused by our parents’ marriage, we were each other’s forced sibling.

Sisters.

But not really.

And so mistrustful.

Mistrustful of our parents’ proclamations of equal love for us; of the promises of an affectionate familial bond we two girls would come to hold dear; of the pacifying smiles and fraught silences that passed between us.

We were both to blame, refusing to see anything admirable in each other’s passions or proclivities. And I knew our parents sensed it, though I’m sure my father hoped that the feigned geniality Slythinia and I offered each other in his presence would, over time, become more genuine.

He was wrong.

Slythinia could never see me as anything but the illegitimate child that I was. A vile lesser-than. A view shared by her mother who hid it well from my father, but I could see it in her eyes.

She secretly loathed me.

And, when my father died—a mysterious death about which I have my suspicions as to cause and culprit—the Queen showed her true colors and dropped all pretense of affection for me. She and her daughter became outwardly hateful. I was left out of as much as possible.

Meals.

Entertainments.

Cultural lessons.

The Queen foisted all that royalty could offer upon her daughter, while I was left to dull, thin frocks and my own meager devices in a spartan room tucked away in the far tower. I was dressed up and propped on display as needed, but if I dared open my mouth at such a time—or any time, for that matter—I would feel the long arm of the Queen’s wrath.

Her cruelty knew no creative bounds.

At last, the day came when I could bare it no longer and I journeyed to the thick and foreboding mists of the Forlorn Forest in search of the rumored Demon Faeries that lived there: creatures that hushed tales declared masters of mischief, creators of curses, and things not to be trifled with.

But I was desperate.

I needed to escape my current situation.

So, on I ventured.

Into the cold, curling fat fingers of fog that hung like hordes of grey ghosts amidst the towering trees that reached toward a gloomy sky of doom.

I clasped my frayed cloak tightly around my neck to try to tame the chills that slipped down my shivering spine.

But to no avail.

As if the eerie, shifting mists could fail to chill, the forest’s soundscape hissed and moaned with the slithering of snakes and other beasts of the underbrush rustling and the occasional haunted, hollow calls of, I imagined, some monster birds of prey.

When my legs could carry me no more, I knelt on the leaf-strewn ground and tried my luck with a makeshift prayer.

“Dear faeries of the forest, I beseech you. Help me overcome my cursed life!”

The rustling abruptly stopped.

The forest stilled.

Silent.

Impossibly silent.

I looked around, hearing only my quickening breath and the beating of my harried heart thrumming in my ears.

“Curses can never be broken. Only transformed.”

I turned in the direction from where the voice had come.

There, where it hadn’t been a moment ago, stood a tiny figure. Three feet tall at best, skin furrowed and mottled like the trunks of the neighboring trees, and exceptionally large, layered yellow-green eyes that seemed amphibian.

“So,” the creature continued. “Are you certain you still wish to proceed?”

I took a moment to gain control of my racing heart and breath; trying to stay calm in the face of the reality of this horrific, mythical being.

“Yes, “ I managed at last.

“Then,” said the Demon Faerie. “You must also know the cost for altering a curse. Only upon agreement to the fee can I attempt to give you what you wish.”

I cleared my throat. Swallowed a lump. Tread on.

“I did not bring money,” I said, apologetically.

The creature tittered. “ Money is meaningless here, Princess.”

“How did you—” I stopped myself. Surely the least a Demon could do is know my true identity.

She smiled and continued: “You can have the curse turned from its current focus—which I assume is your desire—but only for a year and a day. After that, you must return to the forest and surrender your soul.”

My jaw dropped. I felt so foolish. Of course a deal with a demon would likely cost my soul! How could I have thought otherwise?

“You seem surprised, dearie,” the Demon Faerie said. “Perhaps you have changed your mind?”

No, I thought. I could not go back to way things were. And if I only got respite for a year and a day, so be it.

“On the contrary,” I replied. ‘I will pay your fee.”

The Demon Faerie smiled.

“So be it,” she declared. “Now, tell me your plight and how to make it right”

I explained my virtual imprisonment and the cruelty of my stepmother and stepsister. The Demon Faerie listened: head nodding at times, lips pursing at others, lupine ears always leaning out and forward. When I finished, the creature sat back.

“Go home, child,” she said. “By the time you arrive, you will find things to be more to your liking.”

I opened my mouth but found no words. So many questions. But I realized they would best be answered by doing as the Demon Faerie bid and returning to the castle.

“Thank you,” I said. It felt inadequate.

The Demon Faerie merely smiled.

“Off you go.”

And I did. I retraced my steps as best I could and by the time I got to the castle, I found several servants waiting for me at the gate.

“We were so worried for you, miss,” one said.

“Yes,” said another. “Let’s get you out of those filthy clothes and get your bathed and dressed for dinner.”

The mix of fatigue, confusion and surprise kept me from responding much; I just let them attend to me. They took me to my old room from when Father was alive, bathed me and dressed me in one of my favorite old gowns. Then I was escorted to the dining hall.

I entered, timid and unsure at what reception I might meet. But upon seeing me, the Queen rose from her seat immediately and came rushing over.

“Oh, my darling,” she cried. “We were all so worried! Please, sit and rest yourself!” She took me by the arm and escorted me to the chair that once was mine. “I’ve had the chef arrange all your favorites as you must be famished after your journey!”

A servant held the chair for me and I sat. The Queen took her seat as well, saying “I just can’t believe you went out all your own, darling! You really must always have escorts for your safety, you know! I couldn’t bear if anything happened to you!”

I had memorized her every false kindness and there was no trace of it now. She was utterly sincere.

I noticed we were the only two at the table.

“Where is Slythinia?” I asked?

The Queen looked at me, her brow furrowing.

“Who?”

I suddenly realized my stepsister no longer existed for us. I was the Queen’s only beloved daughter.

“Never mind,” I said. And, despite the irony of my next words, an honest, sincere smile spread across my face as I added “I’m glad to finally be home, again.”

The Queen took my hand with the warmest, deepest affection.

And I liked it. I liked it very much.

It was going to be a very interesting year, I thought as the first course—indeed one of my favorites—was served.

***

At that very moment, far off in the Forlorn Forest, the Demon Faerie—dreaming of the soul that, in a year’s time, would make her young again—cocked her head at the appearance of a new haunted, hollow voice echoing in the air.

“Welcome to the Forlorn Forest, my dear,” she said to the expected newcomer.

The spirit that had once been Slythinia moaned, miserable.

“Yes, Princess,” the Demon Faerie said, utterly devoid of sympathy. “We all have our curses to bear.”