Imagine you are a reasonably attractive young person in your 20s. You are educated and have an interesting job with growth potential.
Then…you enter into a completely voluntary relationship with two fairy tale creatures. Think frog in well, old lady at door of castle material. There is a spell that has been cast over them, you, intrepid young person, must break the spell!
This requires enduring a lot of verbal abuse, physical abuse (fairy tale creatures are small but fierce and sometimes quite wild).
You hang on, barely, telling yourself each day that the humiliation and loss you feel is worth the investment in these small people, I mean enchanted creatures. Someone has to break enchantments, why not you?
Yolo; I know. That is part of the heartbreak. To “waste” your youth on the ungrateful and the enslaved can feel like desert living.
When they get older, larger, and more criminal, it can feel like…well let’s just say not a fairy tale.
The other people in the enchanted woods look a little queasy when you spill your tale–what? No magic reveal? No broken spells? What the heck?!
You can see it in their faces–please stay away from us, we live in this forest and are invested in keeping up magic appearances.
But you know the secret–dark, sad, but unavoidable secret. There is only one happily ever after and there is only one handsome prince.
He was the unlikeliest of Redeemer Princes–unremarkable, a tradesman. Itinerate, shekel-less. He died a miserable death and seemed to indicate there would be rough and uncertain times for his kingdom.
His spell-breaking talisman seemed a little too brief–follow me.
Like we would want to do that. Like that would be pretty. Like hell itself would be a picnic.
But of course, hell was just a place on a narrow road for him. It was not his destination. So keep up, girl, the story isn’t over…