"A Pair of Glass Slippers"

A Pair of Glass Slippers

Once upon a time, in the far end of the town, there sat a lonely mansion, from where Prince Malcom galloped his horse, and oversaw his kingdom from the lonesome hill.

At the bottom of the hill, there sat a crowded foster home, where a young fair maiden named Ginger often gazed out of the windows, and imagined what handsome prince could be found across the field.

Orphaned while young, day in and day out, Prince Malcom set out to conquer the world. He hassled and tussled his foes til they threw him their purses. Ka-ching,  ka-ching, ka-ching, he sang his favorite tune .

Orphaned while young, day in and day out, fair Ginger paced around her cab, waiting not so much to ferry around nameless wayfarers, but baiting Moira to bring her fated love. Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump, were the beats of her heart to love songs.

Yet fate had starred it that the prince and the fair maiden were not to meet. Another princess in tow, Prince Malcom paraded with a smug down the street.

While fair Ginger took a shorter end of the deal, a lover who would croack for no big deals.

And quickly found herself fallen under the spell of the wicked fairy, even without touching a spindle.  .

Ingredients of Love

Your first love had crashed into your life. You hang onto his every word as a promise. You claimed  him to your memory, of every details, from the marks of his palm to his favorite dish. So there you were in the grocery store, checking the label once, twice, and thrice to make sure what you had in your hands are stalks of priced rhubarb, not just ordinary celery.

So there you were, back in the kitchen baking his favorite rhubarb pie, following the instructions of the recipe as faithfully as you would  recite  a spell. A few shards of shells fell in with the egg white and, with your fingers, you gingerly picked them out.

You poured milk into the cup and scoop down to make sure that the surface was at the mark. You added water to the dough drop by drop, afraid that one drop too many would make it fall apart. 

You kneaded the shapeless dough over and over until it can be flattened into pie crust. Your poured in pieces of rhubarb mixed in with pieces of your love. You set the timer for 15 minutes to preheat the oven, and watched its arm go exactly fifteen times around the clock, before you ferried the rhubarb pie into the oven with a hopeful heart.
While you waited, you read on the paper of another ordinary damsel finding her pair of glass slippers, and turning into a princess.
 Once upon a time, you had also dreamed of being a little princess, and with a prince, live happily ever after.

Instead, your lover gave you a ring that is not the ring, to say that he was not coming. While the pie was still baking, he said he was not ready to claim his newborn baby.
So there you were, sitting by a yours only baby, tasting the sourness of unrequited love mixed in with the bitterness of burnt pie crust.


Oh Awake! Thou sleeping princess! Life awaits you with its many tastes and flavors. Your prince may not be coming. Yet you can dance across the earth just fine, without a pair of glass slippers.

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