During my layover in Atlanta, I saw a girl of about ten bossing around a pair of twins about five. I thought of Leah. I hadn’t seen her in at least eight years, since Mom and I moved out of that apartment complex into a better one. I never knew what had become of her, or the twins. I wondered what all Leah did to them while I wasn’t there, and if they were traumatized now, if they were maybe into drugs or would get into drugs in the coming years. I wondered if Leah was into drugs, too. I was into drugs, but I still got into the good college and thought I had a shot at a nice life.
The ten-year old girl and the twins began hitting each other, then an adult appeared behind them and said, “Stop it, or we’ll go back home right now!” The twins stopped. The adult turned away and the ten-year old pinched the twins in the ears. The twins looked at me as if asking for help, but I just looked back down into my book.
snowflake
Once there was a pregnant young woman, a queen, who wished she was not pregnant. “This baby will ruin my body,” she said. “My breasts will sag, my stomach will balloon. I’m not ready to ruin my body. I’m only seventeen years old.” She’d been having sex since she was married at thirteen, but this was the first time she’d gotten pregnant. Her husband the king was away most of the time, fighting wars and conquering lands. The baby kicked inside her, imitating this violence. The queen took her appearance very seriously, so much so that she owned a talking magic mirror from whom she sought affirmation twenty-four times a day. “Magic Mirror,” she would say, “who’s the fairest of them all?” The queen had white skin. She equated whiteness with beauty and with general superiority.
“You are the fairest of them all, my queen,” the mirror would say, every time. The mirror had a man’s face and a man’s voice. The queen would smile, and then the mirror’s man-face would fade away in order to reflect her own, which, she had to admit, was quite beautiful. Her lips were red. Her eyes were emeralds. Her hair was long and black as night. She wore elaborate dresses in purple fabric, and diamond earrings like stars against her black sky of hair.
The queen had gotten pregnant from having sex with one of her servants. Her husband the king was always away. He wanted to get as much land and money for himself as possible. The queen could not care less about conquering other lands. She wasn’t even allowed to leave the castle grounds, anyway, so what did it matter? Hundreds of guards with automatic weapons roamed the castle and its grounds, making sure the wrong people didn’t get in or out.
The queen felt that she barely even knew her husband, so she didn’t feel too guilty for sleeping with the servant, who happened to be very handsome and very interested in the queen. She and this servant got along quite well. Plus, she was sure her husband had had dozens of girls, pillaging foreign villages and whatnot. The queen did not take birth control pills because of the acne, weight gain, and depression.
Of course, the servant refused to wear a condom. Men say they can’t come anymore unless they’re raw-dogging. Some men can’t come anymore unless they’re watching porn. They could have the most beautiful girl in the world, but they need a machine, hundreds of girls on screen with bleached blonde hair, plastic surgery, and waxed assholes being pounded and hammered and doubly penetrated by penises the size of small dogs, all while screeching with pleasure. Erectile dysfunction has become an epidemic in young men, unable to be stimulated by anything “less” than a high-resolution video of a BDSM orgy full of three-titted cyborgs.
“Will I be replaced by a sex doll?” the queen wondered. “Perhaps a sex robot?” Lots of people have already been replaced by machines. Mostly peasants. Peasants are poorer than ever these days.
Even though she was the queen, she had no real political power and she wasn’t allowed to make any new laws. The legal ban on abortion that her grandfather’s grandfather’s grandfather had instated centuries ago remained intact.
The queen was not about to let some peasant shove a wire coat hanger into her womb for a hundred bucks. Of course, that’s what the peasant women did when they found themselves in trouble. Half the time those procedures resulted in injury or death, since those performing the procedures were not doctors and did not exactly know what they were doing. The queen did not wish to die among peasants.
She could not leave the castle grounds to enter the witches’ forest, so she used her magic mirror to summon a witch into her bedroom. The witch was hideous. The queen loved to be around hideous women. They made her feel great about herself.
“Can you kill what grows inside me?” the queen asked the witch. “Do you perhaps have some sort of potion?”
“I don’t know any abortion spells.”
“That is outside my skill set. I mean, I could cut it out of you just like anyone else, but that would leave you disfigured, plus you might die.”
“Fuck!” said the queen. “You worthless, ugly hag!”
The queen shooed the witch away. “And never come back!” she yelled.
She carried through the pregnancy while her husband stayed away at war. He never even knew she was pregnant. He stayed away so long. The queen grew large and hideous. She hid herself inside her room, sobbing and clutching the magic mirror. “Who’s the fairest of them all?” she asked.
“You’re the fairest of them all, my queen,” said the mirror.
“Even with my big belly?”
“Even with your big belly,” said the mirror.
The queen stopped sobbing. She smiled, then stared off into space. Her mind was a cloud. Five minutes later, she began sobbing again, and asked the mirror “Who’s the fairest of them all?”
“You’re the fairest of them all, my queen,” he said. And then a pause. “But, alas, something is about to change.”
“What?” gasped the queen. She began to hyperventilate. “My body? What will the damage be, mirror? Will my breasts sag? Will my stomach remain ballooned, even after the baby is gone?”
“No,” said the mirror. “You will give birth to the child. Your body may look slightly different than it did before, but not much. That sort of thing doesn’t matter. But this child, this child, will change your life forever.”
“What are you saying?” asked the queen.
“You’re still the fairest of them all, “ said the mirror. “For now.” The Queen felt her heart do a somersault. “But when she comes of age, your child will surpass you in beauty. Then she will be the fairest of them all.”
“It can’t be!” said the queen.
“Oh, I assure you, it can.”
The girl was born in a bloody mess. The queen sobbed the whole time. “She’s ripping me!” she wailed. “I’m ripping in half!” Eventually, miraculously, it was over, and the queen was not dead. The cord was cut and everything was cleaned. They took the baby away and the queen went to sleep.
The next morning the midwife stood above her, holding the baby and smiling stupidly. “Would you like to hold her?” she asked.
The queen shrugged. The midwife handed the thing over and the queen carefully examined its face. “Hmm,” she said. This baby didn’t look like anything special. She looked like a regular newborn, that is, bald, rat-like, and rather ugly. But still, to be safe, she would have to dispose of the girl. The magic mirror was never wrong. He had never been wrong before.
That evening, the queen wrapped the baby in a blanket and tucked it under her cloak, so that it looked like she was alone. She went into the courtyard.
“Good evening, my queen,” said a guard. “Shouldn’t you be getting to bed? You’ll need your beauty rest, your highness, after what you’ve been through.”
“Thank you. I just came out for a breath of fresh air, that’s all. It helps me sleep. I’ll go inside in a few minutes.”
“As you wish,” the guard said, and he bowed. The queen knew they’d be watching her from a distance the whole time, making sure no harm came to her, but also making sure she didn’t try to
escape.
She went to the edge of the woods, to the stream that marked the border between the witches’ forest and the king’s castle grounds. She was not allowed to enter the woods. She used her cloaked body as a shield and placed the tiny black bundle in the stream. “You will drown here,” the queen whispered. “They say you’re hard to kill, but I know better. Babies are helpless.” The baby stared back and didn’t fuss at all. The queen frowned. “Or if you don’t drown, you’ll starve. And if you don’t starve, the witches will find you, kill you, and cook you in a stew. A human baby is helpless and useless as a heap of shit. You’ll never survive.” The baby blinked her sparkling eyes, fluttered her long lashes. The queen spat. “Stay off my turf, you little cunt.” Then the queen turned around and went back into the castle, wishing the guards sweet dreams as she passed them.
A baby girl was floating down a stream, all alone. She had no possessions and no one in the world to care for her. The baby was very, very sad. She didn’t know what else to do other than to just keep letting the stream float her along.
After a while night turned into morning and the baby girl found herself deep in the forest. She came upon a family of foxes. “Oh, please,” she said to the foxes. “Can you adopt me and be my family?”
The foxes looked at her with sadness and said, “We’re sorry, little girl, but we’re already so poor. We can’t afford to feed another mouth.” Animals and children can understand each other, if the circumstances are dire enough.
The baby continued floating down the stream until she came upon a family of deer. “Oh, please,” she said. “Can you take care of me and be my family? I’m only a baby, and I have no one and nothing.”
The deer looked at her with tears in their eyes. “We wish we could help you, little girl,” they said. “But we’re so poor, we don’t even have enough to feed ourselves.” The deer were very thin, she saw now.
She floated on. Eventually the stream ended, and she arrived at a cottage. “Someone must live here,” she thought. It seemed like no one was home. Perhaps they were at work. The baby decided she’d rest here for a while, and see if anyone came home and took pity on her. She was very tired, after all. Babies must get plenty of beauty sleep.
Seven tiny men were walking home from the mines when they found a baby sleeping on their front porch. “What in the devil?” said one of the men, Hurly, their leader. They all stopped in their tracks, and were very quiet. None of them had ever seen a baby this young before. They all lived together in one house, and slept together in one queen-sized bed. They had no idea how to approach a baby. They had always thought babies were a women’s issue. Was it dangerous? Would it bite, perhaps?
“Where did it come from?” asked Sneezy.
“Does it have a note?” asked Biscuit. He went up to the baby and examined her. He shrugged in order to indicate to the others that there was no note.
At this point the baby woke up. “Hello!” she said.
“Ack!” said Biscuit. He jumped. “It speaks!”
“I don’t believe it,” said Gopher. “We’ve found ourselves a baby genius.”
“I need help,” said the baby. “Would you please adopt me and be my family? I have no possessions, and no one to care for me. I’m also very, very hungry. I haven’t eaten since yesterday afternoon.”
Dopey grinned, and hopped inside to get her some milk. The rest of the men had a private huddle so they could decide what to do about the baby. They made sure to get several meters away so the baby couldn’t hear. Gopher said, “Guys, I think we could make a lot of money off of this. This baby is a magic wonder. People will pay to hear her talk, she’s such a young baby.”
“Rubbish,” said Grumpy. “It’s not that impressive that she can talk. Pretty much everyone learns to talk eventually, even animals. Plus, babies get older. Pretty soon, her ability to talk won’t seem remarkable in the least.”
“You’re so heartless, thinking only about money,” said Sneezy. “She’s just a baby! We have to adopt her, or she’ll die.” Then he sneezed.
“Who cares?” said Biscuit. “She’s not our responsibility. We can’t just adopt every hungry thing that shows up on our doorstep.”
“She’s the only hungry thing that’s ever shown up on our doorstep,” said Window. Window was the wise one and everyone knew it. That’s why he was called Window, because his mind was clear as glass. He saw everything as it was. “I think she needs us.”
Dopey returned with the milk and fed it to the baby. “Thank you so much!” she said. “You are too kind.”
Dopey blushed. He hopped over to the group of men. Dopey was a mute. He understood what others said, but he didn’t speak. Instead, he gestured with his hands or acted things out as if playing charades. Occasionally he would write words in the dirt to Window. The words were not in regular language, though, it was a special language between Dopey and Window that no one else could understand. None of the men knew for sure if Dopey was actually unable to speak, or if he simply chose not to. A lot of trouble could be avoided by never opening one’s mouth, it’s true. Dopey pretended to be holding a baby, rocking her to sleep with a big smile on his face. He jumped up and down with joy and did several cart wheels in a row. He scooped the baby up and kissed her forehead.
“Oh, thank you!” said the baby. It was the best day of her entire life so far.
Seven years later, the queen stared into her magic mirror. Her husband the king had died at war, and she had gotten a new husband, a prince from some other kingdom. He was a mediocre person, just like her other husband. He never said anything interesting. All he cared about was conquering lands, plus spreading his religion all around the world and squashing out all the other religions until his was the only option and everyone was the same all over God’s green Earth. The queen couldn’t think of a more pointless way to spend one’s time.
She turned to her magic mirror. “Tell me, my darling,” she said, “who’s the fairest of them all?” Even though she had aged seven years and was now twenty-four, past her prime, she was still incredibly beautiful, and the mirror told her she was the fairest of them all every time she asked, just like always.
“Hmm,” said the mirror. He scrunched up his face like he was thinking hard.
“What?” said the queen. “What is it?”
“She lives,” said the magic mirror. “She lives, and she is beautiful. She’s the fairest of them all.”
“She lives?” yelled the queen.
“Yes.”
“Fuck!” yelled the queen. She picked up a candlestick and threw it across the room. It shattered. The queen loved breaking things and making messes, then forcing other people to clean up after her. “But wait,” she said. “You said she would surpass me in beauty when she ‘came of age.’ If she lives, she’s only seven.”
The mirror shrugged. “Still.”
“Jesus,” said the queen. “That’s disgusting.” She used the mirror to summon a forest witch to her bedroom.
“I can tell you where the child is,” said the witch. “You must walk into the forest, follow along the stream where you placed the baby seven years ago. Follow the stream to its very end. There, you’ll find a cottage. Seven men live there, and your precious Snowflake.”
“Snowflake?” said the queen. “What sort of pussy name is that?”
The witch shrugged. “The men named her. Anyway, you can go there. Disguise yourself if you wish. The child may remember you, and sense that you intend to harm her. Go there in the daytime, when the seven men are at work in the mines. Trick the girl into opening the door. She’s only seven, after all. She’s probably pretty dumb. When she opens the door, you shoot her in the heart!” The witch pumped the trigger of an invisible machine gun.
“Hmm,” said the queen. “Okay. You will lead the way.”
“Well, actually, tonight us witches have a ritual where we sacrifice animals to Satan
, so I sort of had plans—”
“We’re leaving now.”
The witch sighed. “Very well,” she said. In some situations, it seems clear who has all the power.
The queen had been trained with firearms because her husband thought it was necessary. She needed to know how to protect herself, in case someone broke into the castle and killed all the hundreds of armed guards who were supposed to protect her and then it was just her versus the intruder. The queen and the witch went to the armory and took two machine guns plus extra bullets. The witch enchanted the guards so they wouldn’t stop the two women from taking the guns or from leaving the castle grounds and entering the witches’ forest.
They walked along the stream. “Aren’t you scared to be entering the witches’ forest?” the witch asked.
“Pff,” said the queen. “No. I have guns. Don’t witches have to recite some long, poem-y spell in order to kill someone? With this gun, I just pull the trigger and BAM. It’s all over.” The queen laughed. Guns really were quite absurd.
“Anyone can get a gun in this kingdom,” said the witch. “You think witches don’t have guns?”
“What?” said the queen.
“It’s legal for everyone to have guns. You can buy them at the store like a loaf of bread, as long as you aren’t a child or a convicted felon.”
“Hmm,” said the queen. “That doesn’t seem reasonable.” The queen loved owning so many guns, but she did not like the idea of other people being allowed to own them. They could shoot someone! They could shoot her. Guns were way too much for common people to handle.
The witch shrugged. “I don’t make the laws,” she said. “That’s your husband!”
It was true. Perhaps later, when the queen was finished shooting and killing her daughter, she would write to her husband about the possibility of changing the gun laws. Perhaps he’d be happy to see her show an interest in government, for once.
“Well, you’ll protect me, won’t you?” the queen asked the witch. “They won’t shoot me if I’m with you, will they?”
The Paper Garden Page 15
