The Fairy Godmother’s Last Spell

womenlove
Shamim Nakhaei|Unsplash


She never thought a woman
could break her heart…

It started off playful, little gifts of love presented in cards, letters, and candy. Before the light of a new day, Fairy Godmother Honore fell madly in love with the forest’s most popular warrior. She fixated on her smile, her voice, her laugh, and her words. She imagined the two of them coursing through the Land of Timeless Hope, hand-in-hand.

Camille…

Honore said her name and the flutters in her heart stirred without fail. Camille… the world stopped. Camille… everything that was meaningful faded into the background, was put on hold or canceled. Fairy Godmother Honore had found love. She found a reason to retire and give up casting spells that created a life of happiness for others. It was time to shine a light on her own. It was time for stepping into the center and being the focus. It was time for a welcomed peace.

But, her fantasy was one-sided. The hope of embracing love at the reins never matured for Honore. Camille was a bolt of lightning, busy luring hearts but never falling for them. She was a madwoman, casting spells of her own. With eyes of thunder, a head full of fiery hair, lips that summoned the seas, and a body brickhoused to perfection, Camille used what she had to engage others in indescribable ways. She was her counterpart’s downfall.

Unbeknownst to her, Camille’s ways were invisible until Honore wanted to reveal her feelings to The Warrior. She wanted to tell her of the love that danced around in her heart for months. She built up the courage, gathered every ounce of pride, and swatted away every question the village threw at her.

“But, she’s a woman. Why, Honore?”

“Are you THAT desperate?

“Can your heart not find its true love in a man?”

Fairy Godmother Honore ignored their cries. Love was bigger. It catapulted her into a confident realm.

On a day when the sun sat highest in the sky, Honore wrote a love letter to Camille. She attached an old poem written in her honor and placed them both in a handmade basket where she added fresh fruits, a box of chocolate, and granola. Honore waved her wand over the basket, said the crafted love spell, and sent it on its way.

It arrived at Camille’s doorstep just before a break in the clouds. A knock cracked violently across the door. Camille was sitting at the kitchen table, eating breakfast when the knock shook her. “A visitor? At this hour?” She went to her door, pulled it open, and stared at the open forest with no one around. Her eyes shifted downward and there it was, Fairy Godmother Honore’s gift of love. Camille scooped up the basket and hurried inside. She tore into the contents and grabbed the letter.

As she read it, a boiling pit formed in her stomach. Her body ached. A headache tapped at her temples and caused her to blink quickly. She read the last words of the love poem wrapped in the letter. “If you will be so willing to let my love, love you, it would be an Honore.”

No signature. No other hint of the sender. But, Camille knew who her pursuer was… “an Honore.” She scribbled a few words onto the back of the letter. It was a declination of declinations. “You are a Fairy Godmother. Love… Love deserves more than spells or chants or being twisted into something it is not. I am not a project, Honore. I won’t be willed, least of all, by you.”

She summoned her errand boy and had him swiftly take the basket back to the Fairy Godmother. Honore met the boy just as soon as his hand began to tap the hardwood door. He stood there, eager to finish his task. Honore snatched the basket, gave the boy a shilling, and sent him on his way. In the silence of her home, she dug into the basket and pulled everything sent off back out.

The letter…It laid there, crumpled and out of place. She read the letter… But, what now?
Honore turned it over to read Camille’s words. A fitful sting struck her heart and dollops of tears poured from her eyes. “I am not a project, Honore. I won’t be willed, least of all, by you.” Fairy Godmother Honore sat with those words for hours. She washed her hair with them. She cried with them. She lolled throughout the house with them.

But what about the gifts, the cards, the hints? Everything that Camille had gifted her, was it all a dream? And then it hit her.

Honore had been lured by Camille specifically for this reason–to learn that there are no spells for true love. Two hearts must meet, be in sync, and work together as one.

She never thought a woman could break her heart.
But, she needed it.

Featured Writer for April

Young Minds of Medium Writer Braden Turner

Every once in a while, I come across a young Writer who surpasses what I expect from that young one–Braden is exactly that type of Writer. He does not back down from a challenge and can flip micropoetry into long form and back to micropoetry without missing a bit. He is this month’s feature. Braden is in his last year at the University of Georgia and was just recently accepted to complete his Master’s as well. He is one of my favorite Writers to collaborate with and each time our minds meet, we make something so very special.

There will be two of his works published here today; one, a 5-word response to the topic of “Rejection” and the other is a superb poem that highlights the torment of humanity, the possible fall of love, and the gods who rule the world, but still let it crumble among its men.

People, please encourage his heart:


a manuscript titled: victory

Rejection Challenge

Photo by Ranit Chakraborty on Unsplash

You were merely
the prologue.


a manuscript titled: victory was originally published via A Cornered Gurl on Medium.


of gods and men

Photo by sergio souza on Unsplash

humans turn their
worlds
belly-up, barbed branches
tearing apart their
seams.

watch them fight a war now,
play-things
enamored with the indefinite —
losing their minds over
elusive and tormenting
humanities
because they once had a taste
of such heavenly ambrosia.

watch from the skyline,
eagle-eyed
overhead with underhanded
magic,
 lancets slice through
pseudo-divine blood pacts.
wonder the questions, wander
for answers —

why do they eat up the inevitable?
piece apart timelines, time
zones separate then and now
isolation is human nature.
with a flicking wrist
we could decimate
anything, anyone
would cower at the thought.
but in their ignorance exists
unfeigned fortitude,
solidified
by their thirst for ungodly
indeterminate joys.


of gods and men was originally published via A Cornered Gurl on Medium.

Young Ones: You Have A Voice. Use It.

I am posting this here as well just in case there are some young, active users on Medium who may not receive letters from A Cornered Gurl or may not know how to begin their writing journey with a publication. WordPress, you are family–I know how you are about our young ones, how we have to raise them up, give them their space, and allow them a chance to step foot into this world the way that they need to by sounding off… Here is just one opportunity. There will be more.


Young Minds of Medium

A Challenge: Let Me Hear You Roar!

Samuel Scrimshaw|Unsplash

This is a call for submissions. Young Minds of Medium — this is your challenge. I am looking for work from the young Writers here on Medium, ages 15–25. Submissions will be reviewed and posted on Mondays and Fridays during the month of April. This is your time to shine. I want to hear from you. I want to feel, connect with, and help you bring to light what you have held inside for so long — what you want to write about but may not know how to.

Your theme: “Let Me Hear You Roar!”

What am I asking?

Give me the anger that’s swelling deep inside you, channel it and let’s get creative with it. You think you can’t put what you’re feeling into words, try me — let’s make it happen together.

I am looking for:

Poetry
Micropoetry
Fiction (no more than 850 words)
Non-fiction (no more than 850 words)
And, your heart. ❤


•You will need to be a current user on Medium for this challenge. Request to be added as a Writer by emailing me at acorneredgurl@gmail.com with “Please Add Me” as the subject line. For the young ones, ages 15–25 already contributing to ACG, please submit your work in draft-form directly to A Cornered Gurl for review, scheduling, and/or publishing. You can submit twice per week, your works will be published on Monday and Friday of that week. Please have a suitable image for your work with notable credit to its source/artist (please include the link). You can find a host of great images via Unsplash, Pixabay, and Pexels. If you are the source for your image, please caption that.

Please subtitle your entries “Young Minds of Medium Anger Call” and tag your pieces with the following “Growth” & “Anger.” The other three tags, you can choose at your own discretion. CHALLENGE SUBMISSIONS BEGINS NOW!

The start date for publishing the YMOM pieces is Monday, April 1, 2019, and the end date is Monday, April 28, 2019. Other contributors to ACG, please do not fret. You can submit as you normally would to A Cornered Gurl and your work will be published as well, however, a total of three pieces will be published on Mondays and Fridays for all other Writers, leaving the floor wide open for our young ones. I hope you can understand and accept this.


Please remember that A Cornered Gurl is a read-for-all community and there will be no metered paywall or locked pieces published here. Thank you.

Young Minds of Medium, LET ME HEAR YOU ROAR!

ACG Submission Guidelines:


Originally published via A Cornered Gurl on Medium.

Justice–Where Is Your Place?

ladyjustice
Pictures of Lady Justice Art

Justice, where is your place
in damned cities and states unsure
of their constitutional rights?
Are you equipped to handle the damaging
tides rushing in and submerging people
under your watch?

Tasked with satisfying everyone
regarding everything, Justice, can you
handle your job?
Will you pass it down to your
offspring or shield them from the heartache
it will cause trying to manage
what cannot be?
Where is your listening ear
when the death tolls rise?

Justice, you used to be punctual.
Lately, you are beating around bushes
and lollygagging with teenagers unsure
of their place in this world.
I was certain that we paid you well.
I was sure that you had everything you needed.

Justice, how many more lives
must be taken for you to see
that the world is less humane
when you’re off duty?
How many more days will pass
without you willing to change and clean
up the messes you have made?

You used to be admirable,
a timeless happenstance that everyone
adored.
You used to be d e p e n d a b l e.
Now, Justice, you are fading from view
and the place you once held is
the place you hide from.
You are homeless,
Void of concern and care
and irresponsible.

Who should we turn to?

Featured Poem of the Week.

Mitul Bhat is one of Medium’s newest users, but his words prove that he has been writing for a long time. Recently added to A Cornered Gurl, Mitul shared a poignant and emotional piece of poetry where he personifies a bullet in hopes of inspiring it to not kill him. Please make him feel welcome, beautiful people. And now, the piece in question:

Bullet, I Need Your Help!

Photo by Art by Lønfeldt on Unsplash

Bullet, discriminate

I beg you, miss your target

We have lost our ability to love

You ‘miss’ and teach us now and how!


Hit the wall by my side

And let my heart beat, for some more time.

I have promised my son

I’ll be there for the school play in the evening

And that’s where I so want to be.

But, I need your help in making it happen.

If you hit your mark,

I’ll fall here, where I had only come to pray.

One more body to clean

yet another number flashing on the screen.

A topic of another debate

A condolence remark

And some mail forwards.

My son will still be on stage

A tear hidden, he will play the part

Fully aware,

in the audience somewhere

is but one empty chair.

Bullet, whether your shooter likes it or not,

The show must go on…


I know you have a job to do

A target to hit and a place to be

All I ask is, do a sloppy job.

The man behind the trigger can no longer think

He won’t even notice

So ashamed are you of him,

You chose to miss me

and hide your face in the wall instead.

You will still have your freedom

from the gun and me one more chance

to spread the love.


Heart beating still alive,

I might be able to change the man, save the race.

But I need that one chance!

To bring love back into the heart

where only hate remains.

For when I do,

I’ll remember

It all started with you.


Originally published in A Cornered Gurl via Medium. Thank you for reading, beautiful people.