Once upon a time, there is sugar and spice and everything nice. There is a little girl with promising eyes and with a careful sigh, He thinks 'oh, this one. this one is just right.'

Once upon a time, there is charming wobbly little girl, childish giggles and mismatched clothing and heart perfectly unscathed, and He goes, 'no, dear no. category B, please.'

Let's start again.

Once upon a time, there was a strangled-soul-to-be. She had eyes shimmering with promise, a perfectly whitewashed canvas to splatter on. 'set her on the second course,' says He, smiling a perfectly genial and perfectly bland smile. Turning away from her, He calls, 'next.'

Perfect.

Once upon a time, there was a father who rattled off Chinese statistics faster than his children's birthdays. Once upon a time, there was a mother who could name their GPAs easier than peer into their hearstrings. There was a girl who thought that Daisy Faye had the right idea; how lovely would it be to exist as a beautiful little fool?

Once upon a time, there was the swift tumble into madness. Once upon a time, the little girl held hands, radiating naivete, with a faceless stranger and danced into the tangled woods. Once upon a time, she never returned.

Once upon a time, the mother delivered retribution in black clothes. Once upon a time, there was no correctness in her black and white world but herself. Once upon a time, her children shrank and covered what little of them shone colorful and sweetly with shuttered eyes and a smooth face.

Once upon a time, it became a game of charades. Once upon a time, there was a competition. A power struggle. Who can break the other first? You, or me? 

(Why don't we find out? Don't be silly. It doesn't matter who is right. The real question is: who is stronger?)

Checking back on the girl, He nods with a slightly pleased, slightly uncaring stone face. 'good,' is what He says. 'all is going well.'

Once upon a time, her freedom was jailed by the glowing ivory bars of her mother's demands. Once upon a time, the father's sleek BMW smelled of cigarette smoke and dirty China air and when she sat in his car she wondered just where he considered home.

Once upon a time, there was a young girl who thought love was a fanciful fairytale. Once upon a time, she went to sleep alone and blushing deep in her skin with a weak pulse of innocence, desiring something. Something. There was no word for it.

Once upon a time, there was madness, spiraling, hit rage fury destroy crush obliterate fire. Once upon a time, with cold clarity, the girl's fragile unused heart shattered into a blazing hearth and met the frigid air of

of

home.

Once upon a time. Once, there was a girl who threw her broken shards and laughed bitterly when no one picked them up. Once upon a time, there was the crystal cold feeling flying through blue veins that -- oh my, you do not belong. Not here. 

Once upon a time, the black feeling of no one will understand seeped through her like a bruise. Once upon a time, she saw the shimmering threads that tied people together, which threads shone the most brilliantly and she wondered

barely a second

where are my threads?

And once upon a time, she laughed again. Oh, there they are, she says looking down at her tapered fingers, at the dull grey threads. They shimmered when she shook them, but rest a moment and the people followed brighter strings to brighter futures. Away, always away. Once upon a time, she understood love and how little she had of it.

Once upon a time, she stamped an 'out of order' print over her chest and looked into her mind, and made a displeased noise at what she found. Once upon a time, a girl who was factory made to be a perfect drone found a hundred chinks and flaws in her design. Once upon a time, a girl tried to fix herself with bleeding hands and a taped mouth and only broke herself further.

Once upon a time, she slipped. The thick rope caught around her wrist, not her neck, and He frowned in light disapproval. 'no,' He reprimanded, 'not you.' Hauling her up, He set her back in the forest and lightly flicked her forward. 'go on.'

Once upon a time, there was a mediocre poet. Once upon a time, there was an amateur agonized-soul, and she smudged imperfect words on sad blue lines. Once upon a time, there was a girl not good for much. Once upon a time, there was a girl who watered her flowers barefoot and long hair loose, with calloused hands and soft skin and promising eyes.

Once upon a time, there was cluttered prose and meaningless allusions too thick to wade through and knee-high. Once upon a time, the girl dripped her too saturated heart into tangibility.

'perfect,' He smiled, 'you're shaping up wonderfully.'

Once upon a time, there was nothing to be sad about but herself. Once upon a time, apathy swathed her in its endless shades of colorless fascination and she followed the unraveling threads.

Once upon a time, long ago, she believed herself to be special. And she knew that everyone did. But every night, she unspooled the threads of the emotional universe and restitched them again, centimeter by meticulous centimeter. Once upon a time, she took her fierce, promising eyes and could cut straight to the heart of another person. 

To remedy, not to hurt.

Once upon a time, ages ago, she believed herself to be special. Once upon a time, she discovered her delusion.

Once upon a time, all she wanted was to be loved. Once upon a time, she threw herself into it, the way a dying man throws himself at the sea.

Once upon a time, there was no one to love her, the poor thing, tortured soul and pitying poetry.

'very good,' he smiles warmly, checking off a tiny box amongst millions. 'now, for the next...'

Once upon a time.