*Sleeping Beauty

Intro: I am trying something new. I really liked how the Sleeping Beauty story worked, so I am writing a collection of stories that fall into the same category. The intro is below.

We come from a world where everything relating to fairy tales has been screwed up. Magical artifacts have appeared and when someone touches them, they live a specific fairy tale. The problem is that the people who we normally imagine as typical fairy tale material are skipped over, and those of us who resent it the most are chosen. There is no reason for our imprisonment and improbable magics happen.

My friends and I are the unlucky few who have been stuck and what follows are our stories. Hopefully no one ever reads these. Not something as eighteen-year-old men we want people to read, but it has to be recorded.
-Ty


Ty's Story (#1)

I was asleep, I knew it, and it sucked. My favorite show was on tonight and I was going to miss it. Touching the stupid jack knife knocked me unconscious. It wasn’t fair. No one else had the problem when the knife was passed around class. It’s a fact; Guys never get sucked into the fairy tales. It’s a girl’s dream come true, not an eighteen-year-old boy’s. No one had better call me Sleeping Beauty.

The worst was I could hear them talking about me, my two idiot guards.

“So we just need to watch him?”

“Yes.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

Great, an Abbot and Costello duo.

“But he’s not doing anything.”

“Stay at your post.”

There was a comical sigh and the sound of shoes shuffling.

“Don’t leave.”

“Fine.”

I knew I was doomed to die of boredom. There was no way of waking myself up, so I was stuck listening to the improv of Tweedle-dum and Tweedle-dummer. After a while, who knows how long, I tried to block them out. I thought of everything I could, including why I would be held prisoner and asleep. It was overkill for nothing.

“Stay at your post.”

“But I hear footsteps.”

At last, I was going to be rescued. I regretted the thought immediately; guys did not need to be rescued. I was going to look like a fool. Was staying asleep for a thousand years worth it? Then everyone who knew me would be dead and I could claim I was more of a Rip Van Winkle.

“Declare your intentions.”

Really? He watched too many movies. The intruder person snickered and there was a soft thudding noise.

“Serves you right,” the other guard said and then there was another soft thudding noise.

I really hoped it was someone on my side winning. Being asleep for so long was making me desperate and I needed to wake up before I thought something else I regretted.

“Now I have to kiss him?”

Samantha? Anyone but Sassy Sam. Our thoughts were parallel.

“Kissing Ty is at the bottom of my to do list. Right after gouging my eyes out with a wet noodle.”

She always talked to herself and was considered insane when she wasn’t certifiable. Since we had last names close in the alphabet, I usually sat in front of her. When she wasn’t talking, she was sleeping. She would make a great Sleeping Beauty. After she fell asleep, put a “never kiss” sign on her and that would solve a lot of problems. The thought was a little mean, but years of being poked in the back of the head had limited my supply of kindness.

I could smell meat, it was rancid and I hoped woke me up instead of the kiss. Anything emitting that smell I didn’t want anywhere near my face. There was a wet streak across my lips and my arms started to tingle. Disgusting. Glad I was coming to, I jumped out of bed.

That didn’t work. It wasn’t a bed, more of a cement slab and I didn’t jump, more of toppled. My muscles were still tingling and my legs weren’t working.

Samantha leaned close while holding the leash of a large Dalmatian and she was laughing at me. Samantha or a dog, the kiss could have been from either.

“Rise and shine, Sleeping Buffoon.”

It was better than the alternative but still irksome. I got painfully to my feet and brushed off my clothes. My prison wasn’t a tower but more a damp basement. The two guards were on the floor, large tranquilizer darts sticking out of their shoulders.

“Now what?” I asked, tersely.

Samantha smiled, “Now we get to live happily ever after.”

I gave her a flat stare, “Really?”

“No. Time for the police report.”

“You always were too practical.”

“You rather me sweep you off your feet with my motorcycle?”

Couldn’t there be some happy medium? I followed her out of the room, trying to decide if being awake really was better. Then I learned it was still Tuesday and I wouldn’t miss my show after all. Life was good.