That fairy tales may never come true

When she had been young and her mother had still been alive, she had loved the evenings when her mother had sat next to her, reading poems, stories and fairy tales with her.

But when her mother had died, she had soon learned that fairy tales are fairy tales and can't come true and there was no happily ever after.

And in a way, that wasn't the worst thing when she thought about one of her favourite poems that was also a kind of fairy tale:

Once was a Prince and a Princess
that loved one another so dear,
each other they could not possess,
too deep was the water clear.

"Oh dear heart, can you not swim here,
my darling swim over to me,
I will light two candles, have no fear,
by their light the way you'll see."

An evil fairy heard their planning,
pretending to be sound asleep,
she blew out the candles, damning
the Prince to drown in the deep.

It was on a Sunday morning,
the people were happy and gay,
except for the Princess, mourning,
with tears in red eyes, this day.

"Oh mother, my dearest mother,
my head feels as were split in two;
I'd like to stroll somewhere other,
perhaps by the water blue."

The mother alone went to church,
the daughter to the shore did run,
she walked so long til her search
for a fisherman was done.

"Oh fisherman, dear fisherman,
would you like to earn a great prize?
Your net in the water today can
fish me a Prince where he lies."

He threw the net in the water,
to the bottom so deep it sank,
he fished long for the King's daughter,
then brought the Prince to the bank.

The fisher'd fished for a long time,
before the dead Prince he'd found.
"Now look here, my dear maiden fine,
here's your Prince in my net bound."

Her two arms cradled the body,
and she kissed his cold lips so pale,
"oh lips could you but speak to me
again my heart would be hale."

Her robe around herself she wound,
and then leaped into the deep sea.
"Dear father, mother, I have found
my grave that you shall never see."

The bells they tolled throughout the land,
of woe and want were heard loud cries,
two Kings' children lay close at hand,
both never again to rise.

It frightened her that she and Jarod could have ended up like these two young lovers if it hadn't been for a few events that had changed everything.

And so she decided to teach her daughter all the poems her own mother had once taught her the day she found out that she was pregnant.


P.S. I know that there's not so much content. But I guess you can imagine what has happened and I often prefer writing about feeling than about facts … I hope you understand what I'm up to …