Finding the Prince

by Livi ania

            In a fairy-tale world, one of ice castles and talking animals, such as those found in Disney movies and children’s books, Mirna would have long since found her prince,  being a ninny and unusually kind.  She would just have to face the standard family from down-below, a bit of character building toil, and twittering birds.  Not all-in-all a bad fate.  But, this wasn’t a fairy-tale world.

            It was the one we like to refer to as “reality”, a land of cold buildings of brick and glass and rabbits without vocal cords, and Mirna had more than her share of romantic troubles.  It wasn’t her personality…just her incredibly heinous name, her limp dirty blonde hair, and her abrasive Boston accent that stuck out like a sore thumb in the heart of the South.  She just wasn’t considered a catch, and was ready to give up hope of finding “the one”.  Men weren’t flocking to her door, and she just didn’t have the skills to go out and catch herself one of those elusive princes.

            Despite being the ditzy, weak-willed sort, she did have one streak of practicality, inherited from a long dead grandmother who might as well serve as this tale’s fairy godmother.  Practicality, glass shoes…when you get down to it, they’re all the same thing.  Just take a few mind-altering chemicals.  It was this genetic pot of gold that allowed her to see that her life in fairy-tale world would be far more fulfilling to her sensibilities and so she was determined to get through the barrier.  (If she had been the stronger-willed sort, this story would be obsolete, for she would have seen a prince isn’t necessary for a good, successful, happy life.)

            Be that as it may, she had come upon her solution, through the story’s new, hidden character.  That lurking puppet master, the authoress.  Queen of the written word, commander of the highly useful coincidental plot device, and she who is plagued by plot holes.

            It was the Almighty Plot Hole™ that was Mirna’s black gold, for this particular authoress was of a lazy disposition and unwilling to hide the contrivation of a plot device.  (No, contrivation was not a real word before you happened upon this story.  It is a noun form of the infinitive ‘to contrive’.)

            And so, Mirna set out with this authoress-aided power, and turned her doorway into a portal.  Stepping through the instant she saw ice castles on the horizon, she made a horrible mistake.  For this was an authoress with a twisted sense of humor who was unwilling to let the story end that easy.  You see our dear absent-minded protagonist Mirna had not stepped through to fairy-tale world, but to faery-tale world.  A small, but earth-shattering difference.  (Actually, earth-shattering probably underestimates the situation considering we’re talking about universe hopping.)

            For those unfamiliar with bedtime stories, faerys are a wicked, devious, spiteful, vain lot who would quite enjoy killing you and making off with all your shiny things.  Shiny things appeal to creatures of all sorts.  Purists are rather more attached (addicted) to the faerys than fairies, for such reasons as the fact they tend to be hot instead of cute.  One of those earth-shattering difference things.  The pituitary gland reigns higher than any author or authoress.

            Fairies are known to live alongside humans and help polite farm girls realize their true potential with a bit of non-allergenic dust.  Faerys are known for BDSM (I am not telling you what this means if you don’t know), human sacrifice, and general maliciousness and ambivalence.

            Mirna, delightfully practical Mirna, was getting scared.  Very, very scared indeed.

            Her well-fleshed knees were knocking together to create a countermelody to the chattering of her teeth.  Despite the fact it helped her none, she was showing off a pretty decent sense of rhythm.  If the faerys had been into dancing, they might have made her the drum machine for a techno group.  They weren’t particularly into dancing, or if they were they didn’t specialize in grooving their bodies to techno music.  Again, this fact helped her none in addition to having nothing much to do with anything.  Unless one of the readers happens to be a geometry teacher looking for a way to teach her class the correct application of tangents.

            Alas for any sadists who are salivating in anticipation of the “good part”, the authoress involved doesn’t have that twisted a sense of humor.

            For this story has been harboring a deep, dark, shameful secret:  It is a fairy-tale.  And things are going to end happily.

            You must realize, the doorway portal had not closed yet.  This fact dawned on Mirna, and quick as something incredibly fast, she dashed through, sighing in relief.  She pulled the door closed, and locked it.  She then backed away slowly, eyeing it in a highly suspicious manner.  She could’ve been a decent TV cop.

            And yes, joy had descended upon her psyche, for she had gone through character building toil, and now knew where to find the prince charming destined for her.  Mirna was going after the priest who lived down the block, the one with a degree in psychology.  And this authoress had you fooled into believing she wasn’t active enough to use contrivation.  The reason this particular man was so convenient, is he had the skills to help Mirna get past this bizarre incident that forever changed her life, and so he could exorcise the authoress writing her down.

            She rather preferred non-existence after finding her prince to a cheesy and predictable re-tread labeled a sequel.

            And thus, they got married and lived happily ever after.  Except for a pesky little oath of celibacy he had taken.  The authoress had been annoyed at being exorcised after all she had done for them.  Well, Mirna anyways.

A/N:  Entered in a writing contest, with winners announced 8/28.  Wish me luck!