1. Fractured Fairytales
Characters:
Damsel in distress:
- Mummy bear
Villain:
- Goldilocks
Hero:
- Troll from billy goats gruff.
Story:
Have you ever been locked in a small confined space before, 20 stories
high? Not a closet or trunk type of small, but a small meaning a damp,
dark, with mushrooms growing in the corner kind of room? If you have,
reader, you will know exactly how I feel, if you haven’t, settle down and
listen to my story.
“Great Prince, I thank you from the deepest of my heart! From this day on,
I hope we will never leave each other’s side. Our hearts will be locked
together until that of the day we die,”
No no, I can’t say that to him, that’s WAY too corny. Ugh, I’ve read far too
many romance novels.
In case you haven’t worked it out yet, that’s me. I’m trying to work out
what to say when my saviour, I’m hoping like mad it will be a prince,
comes to my rescue. This must all sound quite confusing to you, so I’ll
start from the very beginning.
I was a happy bear. I had a lovely house and a beautiful garden. I had a
husband, named Alfred, a cub and the best recipe for porridge ever made
for bear kind.
But, five years after the birth of my dear cub Frankie, everything went
downhill.
One early morning, and I mean EARLY, I went for a run as I needed to
train for the upcoming Iron Bear. I asked my dear husband if he would
mind getting Frankie ready for school as well as cooking some porridge,
timed for my arrival.

2. Have you ever smelt trouble, I mean, literally smelt it? Like smoke kind of
trouble? As I rounded the corner of our bending driveway after my run
around town, I noticed that our beautiful white, pristine house (apart from
Frankie’s room) was the colour of soot. It was up in flames, actually on
FIRE. I couldn’t believe it, I trusted my husband to do something as simple
as getting our child ready for school and to make breakfast and he goes
and burns the house down.
By now I was angry, fuming in fact. So angry, I didn’t know what to do
with myself. In my frustrated and extremely depressed state, I turned
around and stormed off. I could only think of running, so that is exactly
what I did. In fact, anyone passing by would have thought I was
SERIOUSLY emotionally challenged. But, if you look on the bright side, at
least I was doing some training for the Iron Bear Tryathlon.
2 months later...
By now I had been staying with my dear Mother in Porridge Ville for two
months. Alfred and I had confirmed a divorce and Frankie decided that he
wanted to live with Alfred instead of me. Grrr. Alfred then remarried to
Goldilocks Miller (boy that made me angry) and everyone lived happily ever
after. Well not exactly. Everyone except ME.
Anyway, one day I was doing the grocery shopping for mother and I. I
bought some lovely bright red apples that were being sold by Goldilocks.
Not wanting to be rude, I congratulated her on her marriage to Alfred and
wished them the best for their future together. Under my duress, I bought
a couple of the apples just to please her. I bit into one, regardless of the
fact that Goldilock’s eyes were twinkling menacingly.
I woke up in a small room. It was rather plain with a door on one wall, just
a little bed in the corner, a desk in the other, withered flowers on the
window ledge and a bucket to replace a toilet. The one thing I noticed the
most as I tried to get up from the ground, was that my claws were
exceptionally long, so long, I couldn’t see the end of them, because they

3. were trailing out the window. I wonder what happened to my weekly
manicure appointments?
Once I finally got my feet underneath myself, I positioned my toes so my
long claws were stretched out across the room.
I heard a sudden knock on the door, keys turning in a rusty lock and an old
woman, slightly crippled appeared in front of me. I recognised her at once,
yes, she was Goldilocks, but how did she manage to get so old all of a
sudden?
“Ahh, hello dearie, I see you have awoken. 50 years you have been asleep.
Oh my, look at those talons of yours, probably long enough to reach at
least 20 stories down! Now, let me have your 1st prize porridge recipe or
you’ll never get out of this tower!” Goldilocks cackled, my ears piercing.
20 stories down! WHAT? I shuffled over to the window with my long nails
and looked down. Sure enough, I was high in the air, just like Rapunzel in
the fairytale. Except with long claws, not hair. And the reason I was here in
the first place was because Goldilocks wanted my porridge recipe. What I
couldn’t understand was why she didn’t make me go to sleep for only 25
years, why 50? I mean, by now I’d be at least 70! What a waste of life! I
couldn’t help wondering if I had yet got wrinkles. Pity their wasn’t a mirror
handy.
So there you go. Now you know how and why I got locked up in this
dreaded place, how I divorced my husband over a porridge disaster and
left my only child. If you were me, let me tell you that you would feel the
same way. But the thing is, you’re not me, you’re not a depressed old bear
and you’re not a complete wreck. Most of all ,your life isn’t drawing to a
bitter end.
Oh and sorry about the last bit, it’s just I needed it to sound a little
dramatic.
So, now I’m here, just sitting at the little desk counting all the mushrooms
growing from the corners of the room, trying to think of something to say
to my prince when he comes to rescue me that isn’t corny. I feel a sudden
tug from the end of my nails which made me crane my neck to see if I
could see through the window. Could it be? Could it be my prince? There, I

4. could just make out the shape of a figure trying to climb up my nails, which
made me wince in pain. As the shape got closer, I started to see the form
more clearly. I could see a mass of hair on the head, long leg muscles
working hard to scale up the wall, and the rather dirty shirt, ( probably
from sweat, ew), drenching the man’s arms and forehead. Perfect, he
looked muscly and victorious. Just my type.
At last, my prince had come to save me from this dreadful place. I then
remembered the speech I had made up just before. It was the only thing I
had thought of, corny or not, that’s all I had to say. I ran it through in my
mind and then I tried my hardest to pose myself on the bed, finding it hard
as my nails were getting pulled out the window. I raked my hands through
my straggly of hair (remember it hadn’t been cut for at least 50 years) and
tried to look even just the slightest bit presentable.
I heard my prince use his last effort to heave himself into the room, that
was my cue to start the speech... ‘Great Prince, I thank you from the
deepest of my heart! From this day on, I hope... AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!’
I had hoped that this moment in the tower would be the best day of life,
but it turned out to be the worst.
What I hadn’t realised as I was peering out the window was that the prince
was not my idea of a prince. He was uglier than Alfred even, and that’s
saying something! Instead of gorgeous locks of blonde, silky hair, they
were more like chunks of oily, dirty hay. His legs were not muscular but in
fact flabby, and the worst of all was his ghastly smell. He smelt like some
one had put rotten fish heads, huge piles of horse dung and bad case of
B.O into a big pot of rubbish and boiled it up. It even smelt worse than
changing Freddie’s nappies when he was little. Yech.
The troll leapt across the room and planted a great big, smelly, wet kiss on
my cheek. He picked me up and swirled me around the room happily. I
couldn’t help but laugh, my misfortune or not. Even though this troll
(looking suspiciously like the one from under the bridge in the billy goats
gruff) was not what I had hoped, he was the one for me, I could feel it in
my claws. I loved him, despite his smell.

5. During the next week we escaped the tower, bought my true love (He’s
called Bobby) new clothes, purchased some pimple cream for his face, I
told him how to shower and he clipped my nails. We purchased a lovely
house with a lovely garden. Freddie moved in with Bobby and I and we all
lived happily ever after. Except for Goldilocks, we locked her in the tower so
she could have a taste of her own medicine. So I’ll change the last bit.
SOME of us lived happily ever after! Oh and in case you were wondering, I
finished presenting my corny speech to Bobby and he liked it very much.
The End
By Rosie and Ella.