“…You’re arrogant,” said Mère L’Oye. “Arrogant and foolish…and heartless...”
Suddenly, Dreadlilocks felt tears streaming from her eyes. She tried to wipe them away, not understanding, but they continued to flow.
“What have you come here for??” the lady asked. “To demand that I die? To tell me that I’m no longer needed in this world…?”
“I…I just…” Dreadlilocks gulped, and gripped her basket tight. “…You already know what’s happening. You know everything…so you have to know that…we just want you to think about the rest of us. Please…don’t unwrite the world.”
“You have no right to ask that of me,” she replied. “You tiny, insignificant…you have no idea how I’ve suffered. You can’t even comprehend the magnitude of my pain.”
“I know how scary it is to be about to die! I know it’s not fair, and that you’re sad…but…”
Dreadli stood up straight. “Mama Bear used to say that, you should do good, so you’ll have something to be proud of when it’s your time to go,” she said. “And you did a lot of good…you wrote all of our lives, and a world full of beautiful things, and a son who still loves you. But now instead of being proud of it, you’re destroying everything…!”
“That is my privilege,” Mère L’Oye answered. “And Jack…all he wants is my power. All his life he has rebelled against me, disapproving of me, thinking thoughts he believes I cannot hear…he has always thought that this world would be better off he were its god, and I didn’t exist…!”
“Mr. Jack wouldn’t think that!”
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“He wouldn’t now…now that I have humbled him. He has finally learned that he only has as much power as I allow him…I must unwrite the world; I must unwrite everything, so that he cannot steal it from my dying hands…”
Dreadli frowned. “…Mr. Jack isn’t trying to steal us,” she protested. “He’s just trying to take care of us…he wanted to take care of us for you, because he thought you cared about us. But I guess that isn’t true…”
“I care for you as you care for garden flowers, which you pluck from the ground and abandon to wither and die,” Mère L’Oye replied. “You pass judgement on me because you think we are equals. But you are but flowers to me: beautiful for a time, but ephemeral…and altogether inconsequential.”
“But if a flower could tell me to spare its life, I would listen. You can hear me; you know I have feelings and you can understand what I want, and you don’t care!”
“Perhaps I don’t. Must I hold the needs of a flower above my own??”
Dreadlilocks balled her fists, but said nothing. The tears kept falling, soaking her dress and forming a puddle around her boots.
“…You’re angry,” Mère L’Oye continued. “You feel helpless, and you hate me. Even if I did not know your thoughts, I can see it in your eyes…why don’t you try to kill me yourself? Take the gun from your pocket and shoot me.”
Dreadli’s eyes went wide. She had almost forgotten about her parents’ heirloom.
“It’s no coincidence that you have survived this long…but of course, you didn’t know about the power you’ve kept in tow,” said Mère L’Oye. “I’m sure Jack noticed…and now he’s even given you the ability to use it. But he didn’t think you deserved to know…I am not afraid of you. I will tell you what you could do, if you had the courage.”
“Your mother brought that with her from another world…the world I come from; the home of the magic that allowed me to become a goddess. It is automatically more powerful than any weapon that could ever be created here, and I am vulnerable to it. If you were to use it, you could kill me now. All of your problems would be solved.”
Slowly, Dreadlilocks pulled the golden pistol from her pocket: she couldn’t help herself. She looked at it, lightly running her fingers over the trigger…wondering.
“…You’re actually considering it, aren’t you?” said Mère L’Oye. “What a monstrous little girl.”
Suddenly, Dreadli’s feet sank into the ground.