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We all know fairytales are real, don’t we?   Always based in some kind of dark, violent, sexual truth about the things humanity both totally desires and is fucking afraid of, yeah?   The real bloody fiction about them is the idea they’re ever really written for little kids.   Ring-a-rosey is meant to be about the Black Plague (fuck, was that messy), Old King Cole was about British politics (like we care), and Hansel and Gretel was about famine in medieval Germany (missed that one – unwise practise to go around looking well-fed when the locals are starving…)

And in case you didn’t realise, little Red Riding Hood is a preachy fucking morality tale about flaunting yourself and flirting with sexy strangers.   Shit, the heroine didn’t even survive in the original version of the story.   

Thing is – every time someone tells it now, they always get the bloody predator and prey confused in the end.   How the hell do I know?   I heard the origin of this tale personally, all right?   I was told by the actual protagonist, for fuck’s sake.

 

Thing is with fairytales, they kept getting made over to appeal to a new modern audience, yeah?   So when you hear one, you can’t help but relate it to recent events you know about.

So – a horror story from my past turned up in my present.   Amelia – back in my world.   And she said she’d find someone else to play with if I wouldn’t meet her Friday night for fun and games, Amelia-style.   And she named some possible replacement playmates like my best friend Kane, a fishy loser kid from school I’ve talked about here – and my housekeeper’s daughter.   Jenna.   You know her.   Semi-teen kid who says ‘like’ hideously often, hides behind long hair and under red hoodies, and has a crush on me.

 

And so I told you a tale where the dangers of having a crush on the wrong person is the moral of the story.

 

You’re a relatively cluey reader.   You know fairytales are these fucked-up versions of reality.   You are so fucking right.

So – bet you you joined some dots, didn’t you?   Wrote your own little version of the story?   Jonathon, cold bastard he is, didn’t give a shit about Amelia’s threats, so Amelia went for a nice little hunt and found a nice little girl to play with.   The end.

That’s what you thought, right?

Sorry.   You strayed from the path there.   My story wasn’t about the fate of Jenna.

 

It was about the origins of Amelia.

 

NEXT ENTRY…

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One Comment

  1. First I thought it was Amelia,
    then I thought it was Jenna.
    Damn,
    i should deff go with my first instinct..


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