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Katelyn Blair

on 5 May 2010

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Transcript of Unenchanted

Unenchanted. Things are not happily ever after, and never will be. My contemporaries look down upon me with no real reason to. We live in a little hut in the forest. Rumors are it is a magical forest, but I don't buy that. I think they are all crazy. There are no plants that come to life, nothing out of the ordinary. The only thing that makes this forest magical is a certain person who visits, and that is just my opinion. Doc
Doc is the leader, or so he thinks. I'm not extremely impressed with his dcotorate in library science. He may know where every single book could be located in the world's libraries, but he wouldn't be able to reach it most of them. Not to mention that he will never see most of the world. Doc is afraid to fly.
The aforementioned "contemporaries" are a bunch of side show freaks themselves. Bashful
He's not really bashful. In fact, he's a nudist. I don't really want to talk about it. The nickname was more making fun of his ...tendencies. It just stuck. Sleepy
This one only wakes up to go to work. Says working makes him extremely tired. It is possible that he's got narcolepsy, I have seen him pass out in random spots. Who knows, can't keep the guy awake long enough to get him to a doctor. Happy
He's not exactly one of my favorite people. Happy sometimes makes passes at the guys, and we usually question him about his sexuality, but he refuses to say anything really. Grumpy
So this guy has quite the back story. In short, he has lost everything and mining was his only option. His wife left him years ago for some good-looking fella, and he's become really bitter in his time dwelling on it. I don't really blame him, but his life would have been much better if he had moved on and not just pouted over everything with Mary, his ex-wife. Sneezy
I actually pal around with ol' sneezer from time to time, as he isn't that bad once you get past the non-stop sneezing. The coal actually helps to alleviate his grass allergy, but that doesn't seem to work for more than a few hours after we come out of the mine. We were brought up in similar families, and so we see eye to eye on quite a few things. Though once you get him around the others, he tries to fit in like nobody's business. We live together. All seven of us. No, we aren't homosexual. We are coal miners, who all got roped into the business because of our short stature. Just to get this straight, in the movie "Snow White" our sizes were very exaggerated. I'm the tallest, at 5'6"... but I'm not three feet tall, come on now. None of us are. Not to mention, freakin' Walt Disney. He falsified so many aspects that the story isn't anything like our lives. He took our helpful attitudes, well, everyone else's helpfulness, and amplified it to an extreme. I hate Hollywood. By now, You've probably realized who I am. I'm called Dopey because the rest of the guys don't appreciate the same things I do. Sure, I will whistle on the way to work. Normally I associate myself with Jazz music and acrylic painting, though I do dabble in oil paints on occasion. I have many hobbies, but no desire to make them careers. My father was a coal worker, so I figured why the Hell not try the same path. I had no idea that I would be stuck in the woods like some sideshow character. I am an orphan, but I'm an adult now so it's not a big deal... until I found out my parents left me with nothing and I found this bunch of guys who work in the coal industry. Our boss didn't like our short stature, I think it freaked him out, so he sent us to some caves that are deep in the forest, and suggested we all move out here. I remember hearing something about a "little person" clown that chased him when he was younger... might just be a rumor, who knows? We live in what the other guys would refer to as the "magical forest". The only reason they think that is because when we were building the hut, a really freaky looking old woman came by and offered them apples. I was hiding in the brush, as people that look freaky don't really tickle my fancy, and it ended up possibly saving my life. I would later find out that she is a homicidal maniac, who doesn't quite get things figured out right... maybe she has had too many apples herself. The apples, you see, contained a chemical cocktail that this woman was experimenting with, and ended up knocking out the guys for a few hours. When they came to, there were some side effects that didn't end up going away. I'm talking things like dizziness, hallucinations, unexpected laughter, skipping, twirling, and general things that a three year old would do to annoy a person. The guys were gone. Well, any semblance of intelligence they used to have was kaput. From then on, I lived with a bunch of Drugged-up loonies for quite a while. She was only trying it out on them, but the chemicals were so addicting that they tracked her down and danced around her hut until she gave in. Every time they came back with a bag of apples, the try to peer pressure me into it. But they won't get me to eat. I had an idea of what she was up to with those tricks. Not too long ago, she tried to kill the most wonderful person on the planet. Ok, so what if I'm a little biased. Sara White was the most beautiful person I have ever been blessed enough to see. Her form passing me was magical; the leaves blew up in glee to see her as her golden skirt flowed in the wind. She giggled as if she was a school girl, yet she must have been in her twenties by then. Sara had been passing through the woods for a few years, though I never had the nerve to speak to her. My dream woman. Now what was I saying? Oh, right. That Bitch. The apples that my house-mates had taken a liking to were the brainchild of an evil plot to kill my sweet Sara, though she would never harm a fly. It happened when she trusted the decrepit old witch enough to recieve a kind snack, or so she thought. Then came the dark ages. Her coma. We all held vigil around her bed for days, took the best care that we could that she would not be further harmed. At least the guys stopped taking apples, which lessened my dislike a bit. Eventually the day came when Evan showed up. My world was crushed. His name was Evan Charming, oh how fitting. Still makes me gag. When the horse practically flew into the grove where she lay, under her own beam of sunlight, we all scattered. Evan called out in a voice I have rarely heard from people of his kind, he sounded worried. "Who are you and why were you surrounding her?" When we came out of the trees to explain. If you're a fan of "Prince Charming", this is your guy. "We Love her"
"She needs protecting"
"We miss her songs"
"She was our friend"
"We would never harm her"
Were some of the responses as Evan knelt to the side of her shrine. "I was to marry her, Or at least to request her hand today." He sobbed.
At least he had the strength to do it. Maybe his upbringing reinforced his self-esteem...
We all began to cry around the shrine of our angel. He sobbed pathetically that day. I was only to find out later that he was expecting more from Sara than I would ever have the chance to gain. He was going to ask her hand in marriage because she had just found out that she was to have his baby in the coming year. The chemicals in the poison caused her to miscarry, and later on lose the ability to conceive altogether. I would have had the same reaction if I knew a child was on the line. To this day I don't know if the others percieved Sara in the way I did at that time, or if she was merely a child to them. Our angel awoke after a month long slumber, to find that everything she had owned and treasured was destroyed. Including the gem in her abdomen that would have been her child. Evan and Sara still got married, and we all were included in their lives for a while. They eventually moved to better business opportunities for him and therefore farther from us. I still dream about what her life is like these days. Sara woke after 35 long days. She wasn't the same bubbly girl after she found out that she had lost the baby. I hope that she is happy where she is. It was really for the best that I didn't go after her. Yes, talking about Sara takes away my cynicism of life, but she was such a beautiful presence. I tend to get carried away in my dreams of her sweet singing while she played around our hut when she was younger, chasing the birds. She would have been stranded here with the coal miners if we had started a life. Better to have loved and lost I guess. I now go about my days, still ignoring the rest of the men I live with, as we all have our differences, though mine are the most pronounced. We go to to work, go back home, a general life for many people in the world now. I live vicariously through my dreams I suppose. That's alright, I don't need apples to make me happy. Just don't tell the others that I have paintings of Sara hidden in the grove where she used to lay, they wouldn't appreciate them like I do.
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