3 Very Grimm Fairy Tales
BY Trevor Strong
Illustration by Kristi-Ly Green
Sylvia’s Dream
Sylvia had always wanted to fly. She loved to watch the birds soaring in the air.
Sylvia had dreams. She’d be standing at the edge of a cliff, staring down at the ground far below. Then she would jump. And as she fell, wings sprouted from her back, and soon she was flying, higher and higher. Flying with the birds!
Every night she had this dream. And every morning she awoke disappointed. Until one night, while dreaming her dream, she was awoken by a voice.
“You can fly, you can fly,” sang the voice sweetly.
“Who’s there?” Sylvia asked. And there, on the window sill, rested the most beautiful bird, with long plumes that seemed painted by the rainbow itself.
“You can fly. You can fly,” it sang, as it flew lazily out the window.
Sylvia followed it through town, past fields, and up a steep hill. Then, just as dawn was breaking, the bird led Sylvia to a cliff. The cliff in her dreams!
“You can fly. You can fly,” sang the bird.
Sylvia stood on the edge and looked down. It was a sheer cliff with jagged rocks at the bottom. She felt sick.
“You can fly. You can fly,” sang the bird.
Sylvia knew what to do. She fell forward. Down she went, the ground rising to meet her, the jagged rocks growing closer and closer, faster and faster. She hoped she was still dreaming. She was going to hit! Then, suddenly, the rocks retreated. She was flying! Wings the colour of the rainbow had sprouted from her back! Higher and higher she flew, until she saw the whole land bathed in the day’s new light! Then—splat!—she collided with a Boeing 747. Her body flew through the cockpit, killing the pilot instantly. The plane veered out of control. The passengers screamed the scream of the damned. Down went the plane. Plummeting toward the Earth … toward town … crashing into a large apartment building … exploding in a fireball. No one would ever identify the bodies.
And all because one little girl had wanted to fly.
The Boy With Too Many Teeth
There was once a boy named Timmy who lived with his mother and father in a small house. Timmy was a greedy boy who looked under cushions for change and asked for a raise in his allowance every week. One day Timmy felt a pain in his mouth. He touched the hurting tooth with his finger. It wiggled! He wiggled it and wiggled it until, suddenly, it came out! Timmy, not used to parts of his body falling off, ran to his mother.
“Mommy!” he cried. “My tooth came out and I can’t get it back in!”
His mother looked at him with a my-little-boy-is-growing-up smile. “You don’t need to put it back in. Soon a new tooth will grow.”
“Really?” said Timmy.
“Yes. And if you put the tooth under your pillow tonight, the Tooth Fairy will come and leave you a nice shiny quarter.”
“Really?” said Timmy, his eyes full of greed. “Can I go to bed now?” It was five o’clock.
Timmy wasn’t allowed to go to bed until eight, and then he couldn’t get to sleep. He was thinking of the nice shiny quarter he’d have in the morning. And, when he finally did sleep, he dreamt of dancing fairies, frolicking teeth and rivers of bright shiny quarters.
When he awoke, he looked under his pillow. There it was! A quarter! Just like his mother had said.
“Wow!” he thought. “I wish I could lose a zillion teeth!”
He ran downstairs to join his parents for breakfast.
“How’d it go, son?” asked Father.
“Look what I got!” Timmy said, holding the quarter like a trophy.
“Now eat your breakfast like a good little boy,” said Mother, “and get your hand out of your mouth!”
“But I want more teeth!” he said, wiggling vigorously. And, just like that, another fell out. “Wow! I’ll be rich in no time.”
Timmy lost two more teeth that day and went to bed happier than ever. When he awoke, he looked under his pillow. There they were! Three shiny quarters! He ran downstairs.
“Mommy! Daddy! The Tooth Fairy came again!” he said, holding up the quarters. Two teeth tumbled out his mouth. “Look—more!”
Timmy lost seven teeth that day and went to bed exploding with excitement. When he awoke, he looked under his pillow. There they were! Seven shiny quarters! He ran downstairs.
“Mommy! Daddy! The … the … hrrrrkkkkk” Timmy was choking. His mother rushed over and slapped his back. “Hack!” Six teeth fell on the floor. “Look—more!”
“Let’s see inside that mouth of yours,” said Mother worriedly. Timmy opened wide. Mother looked in. Teeth were growing before her very eyes!
“Hack!” Ten teeth fell to the floor.
“Ahhhhhh!” screamed Mother.
“What’s wrong, Mommy?” said Timmy, struggling to get the words out. “I thought it was … hack … good to … spit! … lose teeth. Soon we’ll … splut! … be rich!”
“No we won’t,” she replied.
“Yes,” said Timmy, teeth trickling out. “The … hack … Tooth Fairy will give me … spit … hack … plock … money.”
“There is no goddamned Tooth Fairy!” screeched Mother. “It’s just a story adults made up so kids wouldn’t whine so much!”
Father, who was walking the dog, heard the commotion and ran in. “What’s wrong?”
“Our son isn’t right! He isn’t right!” said Mother.
Timmy felt bad. He wanted to say something, but he couldn’t talk! He couldn’t even close his mouth! There were too many teeth! The trickle had turned into a stream.
“Let me take a look,” said Father.
But as he approached, the stream became a torrent. A geyser of teeth spewed from Timmy’s mouth, sweeping his father, mother and dog right out the door.
The house swelled with teeth. Timmy rose atop the growing dentrifical mountain until the back of his head pressed against the roof, which creaked and groaned under the pressure, then—pop!—it came off and Timmy blasted off like a rocket! A mighty plume of teeth trailed behind him as he climbed into the sky, past the clouds, past the moon and straight into the sun, which consumed him completely.
Down below was silence. The town had drowned in an ocean of teeth.
And not all the pillows in the world could have covered them.
The Three Brothers
There once were Three Brothers who grew up in a poor but proud family. The First Brother had great artistic talent. The Second Brother had a mastery of words. The Third Brother was greedy and self-centred and a gifted liar.
The parents loved their sons and sent them to special schools to develop their skills. The First Brother went to an art academy. The Second Brother went to university. The Third Brother went to a great many places but was always expelled for cheating or setting up casinos in the handicapped washroom. Finally, he took his tuition money and disappeared.
The First Brother and the Second Brother, however, remained close and often met to discuss the nature of the universe. Knowing how special they were, they vowed to use their gifts for the betterment of mankind instead of their own selfish needs.
One day they received word that their parents had died of the plague. Distraught and inconsolable, they arranged the funeral. The Third Brother did not come.
With their parents gone, they could no longer afford their schooling. They said farewell to their classmates and went out into the world. But the world refused them. Try as they might, no one was interested in challenging paintings or insightful poetry. By the end of the year the brothers were broke, living on the street.
Meanwhile, the Third Brother had returned to the city a rich man from the fortune he’d made smuggling arms. But the travelling life of a merchant of death had begun to wear on him … it was time to settle down. He had already chosen his second career: politics.
He declared his candidacy for mayor and ran a focused campaign with the best advisors money could buy, but something was missing. He couldn’t “reach the people.” Desperate for ideas, he settled on bribery. He went into the streets with a big bag of money, hurling coins to everyone around.
“More of this if you elect me,” he said. “I am rich and therefore anyone who votes for me will be rich.”
The people ignored what he said, but lunged at the money. The crowd mushroomed and fights broke out. It was pandemonium. But just as it threatened to become a PR nightmare, the Third Brother spotted two beggars who looked familiar. They were his brothers! He recognized them and he recognized an opportunity.
“Oh, but it cannot be!” he said. “It is my long-lost brothers who I have been searching for! Look how poor they are! And they are great men! He is an artist, and he is a poet! Yet they beg on the street! That is what happens when a city is run by the corrupt! I will not let this happen when I am mayor!”
The crowd cheered.
“My brothers, let me share what I have with you. Just as I will share what I have with the people of this city! When I am mayor, no one will ever be poor again. Especially not my brothers!” The crowd roared with approval and the Third Brother took the First and Second Brothers up to his mansion on the hill, where they were fed, clothed and pampered. After three days, he came before them.
“I have an offer for you,” he said. “My campaign is doing better, but it will not be enough. That is why I need your help.”
“But we cannot help you,” said the Second Brother.
“And if we could, we would not. You are evil and corrupt and would be bad for the people,” said the First.
“But I am family. Haven’t I treated you well?”
“What do you want?” said the Second Brother.
“I want you to write my speeches using your beautiful words,” he said to the Second Brother. “And I want you to make my posters and banners,” he said to the First. “The two of you will make me seem the most kind, caring man in the world.”
“We will never use our talents for such evil ends!” said the First Brother.
“We will not dress the devil as an angel!” said the Second.
“You make it seem as if I have a knife at your throat. It is entirely your choice,” said the Third Brother. “If you do not want the 300 gold coins I was going to give you, fine. But I would think that you could start a studio with that, and you could publish your writings. Oh well … your rags are by the door. Just leave the clothes I gave you there.”
The Two Brothers cringed just thinking about their filthy rags.
“Maybe just this once, so I can open my studio,” said the First Brother.
“Yes, just this once, so I can publish my writing,” said the Second.
The campaign soared. The First Brother’s magnificent posters showed the Third Brother as kind and compassionate with an air of fatherly know-how. The Second Brother’s speeches were superb. People laughed and cried upon hearing them and, by the end, realized that the Third Brother was the only choice for mayor, even though he had taken not a single position on anything. He won in a landslide.
“Thank you all,” said the Third Brother humbly to the crowds below. “I accept the position of your Mayor. But this election was not about me. It was about you. And it is to the people of this city that I am forever grateful. Your trust in me is my most valued possession.”
Actually, his most valued possession was his big bag of money, but trust was a close second. For it was this trust that allowed him to run the city in a corrupt manner and still win election after election. His brothers helped too, of course, for there was much work to be done and, after all, he was family. And so the Three Brothers lived merrily together, squandering the wealth of the city, abusing their power and living like kings.
They never did art again.
And they lived happily ever after.
