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Once upon a time, in a land not far from here lived two people who couldn't be more unlike. There were tales spread far and wide and there was an entire section of humour dedicated strictly to the impossibility of them getting along. Reality and Fairytales. They never agreed on anything and often disregarded the other's way of life. One day, tired of this endless fight, they decided the only way they could decide who was truly superior was to go out in the real world and let the people decide. So they entered young impressionable minds and old resigned imaginations and observed.
Fairytales held no more significance than fruitless dreams, fantasies and a rather satisfying pastime.
Reality, no more than a concept they would 'understand when they got older', a foreign dark world against which fairytales relentless rivalled.
Fairytales told them several things during these years. It was a simpler time then. The good persevered, the evil was identified and brought to justice, the prince always got the princess and all stories had a happy ending. The promise of Santa along with the fear of Pinocchio's nose was enough to make them behave for days at an end. No matter what, there was always the correct thing to do and the only thing that was to be done was have the willingness and ability to do it.
Childhood Innocence - a classic example of a battle where Fairytales have emerged victorious since centuries.
However, winning a battle does not qualify to winning the war. Reality fought back. Childhood turns to adolescence, shattering the simplicity of the time which the adults worked so hard to protect. It was then that the people were made to choose. On one hand, was the idealistic and beautiful world of fairytales and the other was the bitter reality. Polls were repeatedly taken and decisions were always inconclusive.
Until a point I was forced to choose otherwise, I held on to my precious crown until it shattered with my glass slipper. The clock stuck 12. The bell rang in my ear as Santa deserted me for yet another year. As it turned out, that Red Riding Hood wouldn't have survived the wolf in the real sense. Fairytales were the pleasing construction of imagination and wishful thinking. Reality, however, seemed like the truth. How was I to choose?
It was then that I realized I didn't have to. Black and White was just a game Reality and Fairytales devised to make us believe there needs to be a clear difference between choices. They were so consumed in their fight with each other, they forgot about the possibility of getting along. They forgot the difference between conflict and compromise.
Fairytales teach us that despite our circumstances we should stand up for what we believe in. Make us believe in the possibility of happiness in the life of a pauper before we turn into royalty. Impress upon us the importance of imagination in times that seem bleak. Urge us to take risks and be impavid. Most importantly, they conserve hope despite predicaments. Hope, which is the very essence of Reality's existence.
At the brink of adulthood,
Fairytales and Reality ended a long drawn out war, with a truce.
As Reality had predicted, it wasn't without consequences and as fairytale had predicted they lived happily ever after.