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damned_bulletin2007-09-29 02:35 pm
iamyourflower.livejournal.com) wrote in damned_bulletin2007-09-29 02:35 pm
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[In elegant script]
Once upon a time, there were two princesses who were taken prisoner by an evil wizard, who locked them in a dark tower. The tower, in spite of its darkness, was really quite comfortable to all appearances- with good food and soft beds to sleep in, but sometimes, there were goblins who came to challenge the princesses to difficult games and riddles in exchange for their lives. The princesses were resourceful and clever, so they managed to survive, but the Wizard had powers far more cunning, and more simple than that for which they were prepared.
Every so often, he took the princesses gently by the hands and spoke to them kindly to reassure them. He would put them in blindfolds and guide them to an adjoining hall, with a great barred window that let breeze through, and a large hearth in the wall.
"You feel that warmth?" He would say, "That is the sun. And this is the fresh forest wind you feel." The rats would squeak and he would say "Ah, but there are the birds, my dears!" And in this way, he had fooled the princesses in to believing they were allowed the priveledge of going outdoors. Perhaps they were very lucky prisoners.
The first princess, haughty and reckless, supposed she could run away while they went on their outings. So she did, still blindfolded and dizzy from years in the dark, and she ran headfirst in to the hearth, burning to death.
The second princess, at once being stubborn and comprimising, decided that her lot was good enough, and that the prison was as much freedom as she would ever have. She slowly perished in her dark dungeon.
To the end, neither had ever been aware of their deception.
~The End.~
Every so often, he took the princesses gently by the hands and spoke to them kindly to reassure them. He would put them in blindfolds and guide them to an adjoining hall, with a great barred window that let breeze through, and a large hearth in the wall.
"You feel that warmth?" He would say, "That is the sun. And this is the fresh forest wind you feel." The rats would squeak and he would say "Ah, but there are the birds, my dears!" And in this way, he had fooled the princesses in to believing they were allowed the priveledge of going outdoors. Perhaps they were very lucky prisoners.
The first princess, haughty and reckless, supposed she could run away while they went on their outings. So she did, still blindfolded and dizzy from years in the dark, and she ran headfirst in to the hearth, burning to death.
The second princess, at once being stubborn and comprimising, decided that her lot was good enough, and that the prison was as much freedom as she would ever have. She slowly perished in her dark dungeon.
To the end, neither had ever been aware of their deception.
~The End.~
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[writing disguised]
Re: [writing disguised]
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Re: [writing disguised]
I should hope you too can find purpose in your own sorrowful tales.
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It would do well for more people to heed their fairy-tales.
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~Utena~
(Anon-ish?)
If you are familiar with it, perhaps you have the power to forge your own new ending.
Fairy tales evolve in every age, you know.
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I thought I had... I thought we had.
The princesses tore down the wall in their false outdoors, and believed themselves to have reached the real thing. But, it was just another trap...
~Utena~
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I'm not sorry that I once lived in a dungeon. I learned the most difficult lessons of all.
Maybe that was so I could tell the stories to others who needed it.
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On the other hand, does suffering really have a point? Or do we simply apply a purpose afterwards, so we don't collapse from the injustice of it all...
~Utena~
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Some of us have the advantage of sight, gained through the tales of others. At least we can know what didn't work, and what almost did.
Would you rather grieve for those who failed, or honor their suffering by advancing on their lessons?
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You may become stronger for it. Or dead. I will not lie. I have seen others perish in their ignorance.
I am afraid all I can do to prevent it is write stories. I have little other power.
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Maybe I will manage to learn something from it after all. My personal lessons have been painful enough.
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- Claude
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