Nightmares and Fairy Tales

Once upon a time,

a young single mother worked at the market. She loved her little girl so much and hated leaving her each day to go to work. She couldn’t believe that for all her chores in the market she would receive very little pay. After a while, she noticed a young prince would come in almost every day just to go to her checkout line. In the following weeks, she and the prince began dating. She loved how he doted on her and her little girl. He told the young mother that if she was his wife she wouldn’t have to work and would be able to stay home and take care of her daughter and him. After a year the prince married the young mother.
Her happily ever after fairy tale soon turned into her personal nightmare. Soon anything she did provoke his vicious rage that he would take out on her. She was afraid to speak when not spoken to. Serve his meals too late or leave marks on the carpet from the vacuum. It seemed like anything she did was wrong and her punishments were all her fault. She then eased into following a set of rules which prevented her from stepping out of line.

As the years went on, she gave her prince two more daughters and he was becoming outraged that she couldn’t give him a son. She apologized over and over and even tried explaining that it wasn’t her fault that she didn’t have a son, it was biology. She needed to get out of the house and decided that without the prince’s permission she would go and work at the market again. He was very angry with her but promised her provocation of breaking a rule would be dismissed if she gave him half of her paycheck. She agreed out of her feelings of guilt and fear.

One day she went to work without having done a good makeup job of covering one of the prince’s marks from his hands of justice. On this day her husband showed up at the market just to tell the young mother what a horrible person she was and that she better be home in time to have his dinner prepared and ready for him. She bowed her head asked for forgiveness and promised that she would be home in time. Later that day a peasant boy walked over to her and asked, ‘Why do you let an ogre treat you like that?’ Those monsters are not allowed to be with humans.’ ‘He’s not an ogre, he’s a prince,’ she replied. ‘It’s the glamour. Luckily, your children will have your traits and not that of the monsters.’ The peasant boy replied and left.

Later that night at dinner she stared at her prince over dinner and couldn’t see the monster. The more she went to work the more the peasant boy educated her about ogres and how they preyed on the vulnerable. ‘How do I get free?’ she asked the boy. ‘All you have to do is look. Look at when he’s mean and see past the mask that he has put up to fool everyone,’ The boy said. ‘But how come you can see the monster and not a prince?’ ‘My mother taught me how to spot monsters. And by the way, you are not a monster but you will soon learn.’

A few months had passed when a huge argument erupted between the prince and the young mother. It wasn’t until the shock of his hand across her face that she saw the ogre. When her vision came back she could see the horror. If it wasn’t for her provoking his rage she wouldn’t have been able to see the prince for what he really was. He was her nightmare come to life, he was her ogre. She screamed and ran to grab her children. He chased all three of them to the carriage. She managed to get the horses to move before he was able to jump in. The ogre mounted his horse and chased after the young mother and her children. She arrived at the peasant boy’s house where he called the village protectors.

A few months passed and the young mother realized it wasn’t her fault that the ogre was violent. She never provoked him. It was the monster in him. She and the children learned to live without the monster and are learning to live their happily ever after.


Trying to some up a personal experience in just 750 words is difficult. This is a response to the Daily Post Prompt ‘Provoke‘. This brought back memories that I didn’t want to remember but I have to try and heal. I hope that it doesn’t do more harm for me in my dreams tonight.

10 thoughts on “Nightmares and Fairy Tales

Add yours

  1. Heal, heal, heal. Remarkable to think that someday, PTSD won’t even be part of your label. I love the capacity of humans to heal. I hate that it takes a looooong time and a butt load of work. Way to write and process this heavy stuff.

    Liked by 1 person

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