LatinosUSA

Magic ambled up to a pond and lowered her mouth to it, her flaxen forelock flowing on the surface. The pond greeted her with a welcome tip of the head, and elderberry wine bubbled into her mouth from an invisible straw. From a distance she emitted a gold-and-ruby glitter, but when the woodsman, who was a hunter of wealth, tucked in close and gazed into her eyes, he was disappointed at the sleep remnants and rheumy remains. He never noticed the cur at forest’s edge.

As Magic trotted her way to town along the moss-covered cobblestone, she swung a basket, letting purple blossoms trail behind her. A young girl shoved the cur aside and swept the flowers up with her hands, shocked to see them dry into locust husks at her touch.

When she turned to hurry off, the girl almost knocked over a princess in a veiled hennin who boxed her on the ears for being unruly and disrespectful. The girl kicked the princess and ran. Being clumsy from birth, she fell into a pigsty sludge puddle, and the princess laughed a very unprincessy horsey bray.

The hunter noticed the sham glitter in the princess’ veil and, assuming it was genuine, he offered her an iron nail ring. The princess who had lost everything from poor management set off hand in bow with the hunter, and the girl went bounding after them toward the eastern land of discontent.

All this time, Magic had set off down the stone path, her basket now a snow fox wrapped about her neck. Her hair had turned white to match the fox, and her teeth glimmered in her shining face as she smiled to herself. The leaves on the trees transformed to platinum as she passed, the stones under her feet to diamonds. The cur, or so he was known at the cottages along the way, fell in behind Magic. In truth, he had a soft tongue, and his teeth sought to protect Magic from harm. As if they were mirrors, he saw himself as a Silver Wolf in the lustrous metal and gemstones. The two kept trudging, hoping to find eager recognition in the faces of travelers, but contented to have each other.

You might wonder how I know this tale when it cannot be found in any storybook. I once was a feral girl, brought up by a stepmother who ate chocolate drops in front of me when she denied me dinner. She had a strong sense of entitlement, claiming to have been brought up a princess. In my frustration, I turned my back on Magic one day, and when one does that, she’s lost forever. Except . . . once in a while in my dreams she comes to me, and I watch Magic and her loyal dog dispensing justice throughout all the lands of discontent.