A Note from Evil

You’ve heard the fairy tales, right? A servant meets a prince and becomes a queen; an evil stepmom tries to kill her step daughter with a poison apple because she’s jealous; a witch curses an entire kingdom to a hundred years of sleep because she wasn’t invited to a party. I could go on, but you probably get the picture. And what do those stories all have in common? And I’m not talking about the disgustingly cheery happily ever afters. I mean the villains. Or rather, the villainesses. Now, I’m not saying all fairy tale villains are female, just most. Think about it, Snow White, Rapunzel, Little Mermaid, heck even Beauty and the Beast wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for the Enchantress. I’m a pretty big fan of all those evil girls. After all, I’m the type of person who would totally punish an entire kingdom for the lack of a party invite. It’s too bad that’s not what happened. You’re probably confused right about now. Before I explain I want to ask one more question: all those kick ass, bad girls I mentioned before, they all seem like different people, right? Well, what if I told you that those ladies, and several others I won’t bother to mention, were all the same super powerful witch? Now, hold on to your panties. I’m not done talking. Y’all are probably saying that I’m insane or lying because there’s no way all those different villainesses from all those stories and worlds can possibly be the same person. To that I say, I’m no liar and I’m certainly not insane. Well, okay that might be a bit of a stretch, but I’m not lying about this. You still don’t believe me? Fine. Be stubborn. You guys, and gals, probably know that the stories with all the sweet endings and nothing bad happening in them aren’t the originals, right? Well, while the originals might be closer to the truth, they still aren’t the actual originals. You want to know how I know that. Well, I lived those stories. You might know me as Maleficent, or Queen Grimhilde, or Ursula or any number of different names. Heck, an entire kingdom once called me Evil Incarnate. Pretty cool name, huh? The point is, I’ve been known as many things and I’ll probably be known as many more before I die. The important thing you need to know is this: what follows, whether you believe it or not, is the true telling of the fairy tales you think you know so much about. What follows, is my story.

Chapter 1

777 years After

            Ugh, another kingdom, another face. This time, thick, dark brown hair brushed my mid back and my olive skin tone was set off by what I found were too bright green eyes. I’d made myself a little bit plumper this time around and my curves were noticeable. I’d taken the name of Grimhilde. It had a nice ring to it, don’t you think? A little exotic, a little strange. Completely at odds with my pretty, but average face. Oh right, I’ve been told I need to explain more so readers aren’t completely lost.

            You may call me Grimhilde at this time, considering that’s what the people of this world know me as. If you’re wondering about the date seen above, well, I have a very long and overly complicated time line, so I made ways to simplify it. My life is broken up into the years Before, the Day, and the years After. As you can see, it is clearly seven hundred seventy-seven years After. It might help you to think of it as B.C. and A.D. That is what your world uses, yes? If you’re wondering before and after what? Well, you’re just going to have to wait. I don’t know you well enough to tell you just yet.

            Any who, back to the story at hand. Summer was in full swing, though after spending a year here, I’m pretty sure summer is always in full swing. I once asked someone if it ever snows, the quizzical look on their face was answer enough. Wood and some bamboo made most of the buildings in the small town. The only stone to be seen was at the smith’s down by the lake or in the castle that sat on the hill overlooking the valley. As for whether it looked good, well the scenery was nice, even if the lake made it look like we were in a fishbowl that had lost most of its water and the abundance of trees gave the illusion that everything was much smaller than it was. The dull grey of the great three towers that made up what passed for a castle in this town was stark against the green and green and, guess what? More green of the landscape. Grey Towers, as I like to call it, was small for a castle but the towers remind me of another tower that I had been in many years ago. Though, that tower was much taller and had vines growing all over it and the most beautiful singing could be heard through the little window. Plus-

            Oh, never mind. That’s another story. Let’s get back to this one. I made my way through the winding streets that were laid out in the most annoying way, my long brown dress brushing lightly over the dirt coating them. The towns people were still weary of me, it wasn’t often that new people came to a small, dirt poor kingdom like this one. Even after a year, I was still “the new girl”. I think I’m more insulted they call me “girl”. I’m older then they’ll ever know, and I’ve done more they’ll ever dream of, but I couldn’t exactly tell them that could I? Not if I wanted to keep my cover of a poor baker.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

            It wasn’t hard to pretend to be poor. Everyone was poor around here. The king, who lost his wife some five years ago, didn’t do much of anything and ignored the town’s existence, save to take taxes every month. Bamboo posts were falling off houses and the only pub in the whole town was a feeding ground for thieves and cut purses. Not to mention everyone went around wearing an extra layer made entirely of dirt.

            Though I didn’t care about the poverty- I’d had worse - I did care about what came with the poverty. When people became desperate, they became so much worse. Most of town-

            Oh, wait. I think there’s a law or something that says I must give warnings for disturbing content. Right? Yeah, that’s totally a law. Well, here’s your warning. This story is full of dark and disturbing content.

            -was too poor to afford locks or any sort of protection. Lots of people died from hunger, and that includes the wives of most men. After losing a wife, they don’t have a lot of places where they can… sate their cravings. There’s no brothel anywhere near here so they find other ways. Even if not all participants consent. I kind of wish I’d taken an uglier form so I wouldn’t be so much of a target, but it was too late for that now and, it isn’t the faces the men are interested in. Besides, I am so amazing that I am capable of protecting myself.

            And I’m not saying the girls weren’t bad, it’s just their bad was more of getting together with the guys who were better off before sucking them dry and moving on. Kind of like a gold-digging succubus. It was a bad cycle, but I’ve found all human societies have bad cycles. I could probably save a few girls from rape, maybe save some guys from losing everything and being turned out onto the street, but what’s the point? Other girls would still be raped, guys would still lose everything. And what have they ever done for me? Nothing. I’m no hero.

            Ignoring the lingering stares from what I found were far too many men, I opened the door to my bakery. It wasn’t often a woman owned something in this town but a witch, even a hidden witch, had ways of getting what she wanted. Wood was everywhere, the bamboo being too unstable for cooking, though the long counters were all dusted with flour. Bricks, don’t even ask me how I managed to get those, made up the large oven and insured that the fire for baking didn’t spread. It’s small, and overly warm with the fire and the summer heat, but it was all I really care for.

            Bread rolls were fresh out of the oven and filling the space with their scent when I heard it. Trumpets and bells. It was an unusual sound in this small village. Wiping my hands on my apron, I poked my head out the pane-less window. It seemed as if everyone, some two hundred people, were all running to the center of town. My hand snaked down and grabbed a little boy running past my window.

            “What’s going on?” His body squirmed and kicked so I let go of his arm just long enough to get a hold of his collar. “The faster you answer the faster I let you go.”

            “T’e king i’ her’!” In my surprise my grip loosened, and the kid managed to get free. Cursing me all the while, he sprinted down the street. The king never came to town. When it was time to pay taxes, a representative came. Was something happening? I hadn’t heard about this before today and by the looks of it, no one else had either. Not bothering to remove my stained apron, I followed the path of people to what I could only assume was the king.

            I weaved my way through the throngs, coming to stand off to the side of a little wooden platform that had been erected in the center of town. A carriage, black and red and surrounded by at least a dozen royal guards, sat right next to the stairs to the platform. Right as I stopped moving the carriage doors opened. The king, maybe five-two and a weird balance of fat and muscled, stepped out and turned to help what appeared to be a five-year-old, dark haired girl.

            A herald announced, “All hail King Frey and Princess Snow White!” I took a split second to decide whether I would suffer the embarrassment of kneeling but in the end my knee touched the dirt and my head bowed just like everyone else around me. I heard the royals walking up the platform and felt more than saw the stage sag in response to the king’s weight. It took a minute before the king had us rise, a minute I spent remembering why I hate bowing down to others so much. Maybe it was because the memories we’re too harsh, maybe it was because I’m paranoid. But, with my dress getting even filthier and my sight limited to the ground in front of me, I really didn’t want to continue it.

            I rose, finally, with the rest of the crowd. “Hello, my subjects!” Despite his size, the king’s voice was deep and traveled easily in the air. “I have come to you today to announce that I have come to a decision.” His eyes traveled along the crowd, his nose curling up in a sneer. The king rarely came down from his “castle” so I suppose it’s acceptable that he was disgusted by our appearance. “A decision that is long over-” His voice stopped abruptly when his eyes went over me, and then snapped straight up to my face.