Monday, October 24th, 2011 - Part 2

     “Hello, Mayor Mills?” Dr. Hopper’s voice rang clear in my ear. I ran through my house, feeling the floor against my feet and looking out my living room window for fog.

     “Dr. Hopper?” I looked out at the clear night, and was thrilled to respond of my own free will. Somehow, I’d beaten the curse!

     “I’m sorry to be calling you so late, but I just wanted to ask if Henry was all right? He didn’t show up for yesterday’s session, and it would weigh on my conscience if I didn’t check with you to make sure he was fine.”

     “Not to worry, doctor.” I’d lost a day—it was apparently Sunday night. Who knew where Henry was? My moment of elation was gone. I tried to mask my devastation. He couldn’t know that I knew. “I forgot to tell you that he was going to an event at the park yesterday. An all-day soccer game or something.”

     “There wasn’t a soccer game at the park yesterday. I spent my lunch at the park, and I didn’t see anything like that there.”

     I thanked him for letting me know and called Graham to report my son missing. He came over right away, and I could let out more of what I was really feeling with him. My son was gone, and I was never going to see him again.

     But then, not even an hour passed, and a miracle occurred: Henry came home! But he wasn’t alone. A blonde woman in her late twenties stood with him in my front yard. She introduced herself as Emma Swan, and said she was Henry’s biological mother.

     I knew this was a possibility, and I had even hoped a little that Henry might find her if he couldn’t be with me. But as soon as I saw her, everything clicked in my head. Letting Henry go was the sacrifice the book of riddles called for to release myself from the curse. I brought the savior right to town. If I’d ever doubted that Henry’s birth mother was the savior, it was all gone.

     But good, I decided. She had brought Henry back and had freed me. Now she could leave and I could raise my son without fear. She was ready to go back to Boston, in fact. I could’ve let her leave, but no, I had to be nice and offer her something to drink. Damn my hospitable nature! I don’t know if, by accepting a drink from me, it trapped her in Storybrooke as though it were a fairy world—or if she just did it on purpose—but she crashed her car and ended up in jail.

     I didn’t discover this until after the sun came up, however. I knocked on Henry’s door this morning to make sure he was ready for school, only to discover he’d run away again. This time, I went straight to the sheriff’s station, and there she was, locked in a cell. Miss Swan denied having anything to do with it, of course, but I know she’s influenced him. She did the decent thing, at least, by offering to help find him. I brought her back to my house, with Graham to keep an eye on her. She went up to Henry’s room, got into his computer, and found the site he used to find her. She also discovered that he’d used Mary Margaret’s credit card to pay for use on the site. Miss Swan left for Storybrooke Elementary to question the motives of Henry’s teacher, and returned with Henry by the time the sun had set again.

     Henry ran past me, and I was forced to be polite to Miss Swan, once more. But then she expressed pleasure in seeing him, and I addressed the threat, instantly. I warned her that there was no way she would get my son, and there would be consequences if she tried. Once I felt I’d made my point, I turned to leave her in shock, as I like to do.

     “Do you love him?” Her words made me whip back around.

     “Excuse me?!”

     “Henry,” she had the nerve to say his name as though she needed to clarify. “Do you love him?”

     “Of course, I love him!”

     She just stared at me. I stood there and stared right back, because I didn’t know what on earth she was doing. Maybe she’s slow? I was about to repeat myself in a more basic way, when she turned and left.   

     I went inside and locked the door behind me. There were many things to talk about with Henry, now that I could. I went upstairs and knocked on his door.

     “Henry.” I pushed on his door and it opened easily. For as angry as he had been, he didn’t lock his door. I could only take that as a sign that he felt safe here, whether he wanted to admit it or not. “We need to talk about you stealing Miss Blanchard’s credit card.”

     He was sound asleep. I suppose two full days of running away from home can do that to a ten-year-old. His backpack was not far away. I reached inside and pulled out the book he didn’t think I knew about. I’ve got my son back and no one was going to take him from me; certainly not that blonde woman with a staring problem. She did her part, and I’ll get her out of here and rule these people with confidence once more.

Monday, October 24th, 2011

     Henry left early Saturday morning for the event that I knew wasn’t actually happening. I offered to drive him, but he said he was meeting his friend on the way. I didn’t think it was a good idea to drive him, anyway, because I didn’t want her to take me over.

     It seemed inevitable that Regina was going to take me over, but there was one thing I thought of that I could try. When the pages from the book of riddles were strewn around the floor, there was a page showing a picture of a candle.

     This world has no magic in it, but there are some things which can be done that don’t require potions or fireballs. I first encountered this Regina after being placed in a trance, and I’ll do it again. Only, I don’t want Dr. Hopper’s help. I know how to do it on my own, and then I can confront her.

     I sat on my couch, in my robe, with my diary pressed against me, and waited for the sun to set. I hoped Henry was long gone and safe by then.

     I got up and went upstairs to my room. On my vanity was a stand-alone mirror in a brass frame. Clutching my diary to my chest with one hand, I grabbed the mirror with the other and made my way downstairs to the library. I sat the mirror on a table in the center of the room and pulled a large candle off one of the bookshelves.

     I sat the candle down just in front of the mirror, and remembered a time when I was very small. I must have been seven or eight, and I hadn’t slept for days. I had told my parents that a monster was keeping me up at night. My father didn’t believe me, and I thought my mother didn’t, either. But on the fifth night, she took me to my room with a mirror and a candle.

     By this time, I already knew my mother could do magic, but this wasn’t normal magic, she told me. This was something her mother had taught her as a little girl, and her grandmother had taught her mother, and so on. She lit the candle in front of the mirror and we waited. Soon, a large, scaly beast was looking at us in the mirror. I wanted to hide in my mother’s arms, but she forced me to look at it. We stared at it together, and it saw that neither of us was afraid. It turned around in the reflected room and walked away, until it vanished and we only saw ourselves in the candle light. I never saw the monster again.

     It was the nicest thing she ever did for me, and one of the few times I truly felt safe with her. That one page from my book of riddles on the floor reminded me of it. I didn’t know if it would work in this world, but I felt it was my last chance.

     I lit the candle, and the white smoke swirled off my match as I blew it out. The burnt smell from the head of the match lingered for a moment. The ticking clock on the wall was the only noise I could hear. I sat, staring into my own face, waiting for anything. It finally occurred to me that in order to face my fear, I needed to lose my protection. I released my grip off the diary, sat it on the floor, and returned my gaze to the mirror.

     “You can show yourself anytime,” I said after what seemed like five minutes. “You don’t have to be afraid of me.”

     It was subtle. She blinked. And then she smiled.

     “Aren’t you afraid of me?”

     “No.”

     “Are you going to stare me down and hope that I’ll leave?” She laughed at me. “Because that’s not going to happen.”

     “You know about that?”

     “Of course. Who do you think gave you the idea? I saw that page in your book when I tore it up.”

     “I can beat you.”

     “No, you can’t. You created me. I am the curse. The savior hasn’t come, so I’ve come for you.”

      Her hand came through the mirror as though there was nothing separating us. I pushed myself away from the table, but not fast enough. She touched my arm with her cold fingers, and everything began to spin. I stood up and stumbled back down to the floor, taking the candle down with me. Its fall from the table extinguished its flame, and everything became dark.

     My whole house was dark and felt emptier than usual. I could barely make out smoke rising from the candle’s extinguished wick, but I couldn’t smell it. There was no sign of Regina, and I wasn’t sure what that meant. I stepped outside to find none of the street lamps on. It was as though the power had gone completely out, and I was the only one outside. A low, purple mist hung low to the ground, and the air was as quiet as it is before a snowfall.

     At first, I couldn’t understand why I hadn’t seen Storybrooke like this before. It began to make sense when I stepped outside my door. I couldn’t feel my porch beneath my feet; couldn’t feel my gate as I pushed it open with my hand. I then wondered if this realm was reserved for the truly cursed.

     Why was I here? Why couldn’t I feel her? Why wasn’t I viewing my life with her controlling it? Was she asleep? I’d never experienced this before. Maybe, because she had beaten me, this was my new prison?

     I came to a stop. Crossing the street at the opposite end from me was Snow White. Her hair was as long as it was back home, but her clothes were Mary Margaret’s. She walked towards me with her head down, as she did most every morning. I stood still and watched her, ready for a fight. No fight came, and she walked right past me. All I could do was stare at her. I knew my jaw had dropped. I finally turned and continued walking, only to hear her coming after me. I tried to turn and face her, but I couldn’t. It wasn’t that I was purposely ignoring her; my will to face her was simply not strong enough.

     I could hear her yelling at me, but I couldn’t make out what she was saying. I knew she was mad, but she didn’t strike me, didn’t even shake my shoulder. She was so close, but her voice was muffled, like my ears were covered by a pillow. When I finally was able to turn and look at her, she had stopped yelling and had turned away from me. I backed away from her until she started to move away from me, and walked on.

     I came across more and more people like Snow White the further I went into town. They looked as they did in the Enchanted Forest, but wore their Storybrooke clothes. Most were silent as they walked past each other, heads bowed, tired from twenty-eight years of not being able to connect with another person. The only curious thing I saw was Jiminy and Geppetto walking together; both silent and ignoring the other, but together. Every time I walked past someone, I could hear their voices in those muffled tones. They were angry, and I could make out my name, sometimes.

     I saw Rumplestiltskin. His skin was gold and his eyes were dark, just like back home, but he wore the same clothes as he did in Storybrooke. He stood outside of his shop, looking down at the ground. I ran up to him without feeling the street hit the soles of my feet, and screamed at him without feeling my throat tense up. But he, like the others, ignored me. The frustration was too much—how dare he trick me with a curse that failed! I reached out to slap him in the face, but it was like a dream: I couldn’t swing my hand to hit him, and the harder I tried, the harder it became. When I turned away, I could barely hear him talking to me. He was furious, but I couldn’t make out any of the words he said. Straight ahead of me, staring at the ground was Snow White. I think she was following me.

     I left his shop and could see I was correct. Everyone had seen me, and they knew I’d seen them. I looked up and saw people shuffling towards me, with their heads bowed. When I turned to walk away from them, I could hear them yelling at me. I couldn’t turn or look at them, or speak back. All I could do was wait my turn to look at them, and each time I did, they got closer. It was like a game of chess, and I was the only piece on my side.

     Rumplestiltskin, despite needing a cane, was gaining on me the fastest. I tried to keep my eye on him for as long as I could. I had no idea what could even happen. I couldn’t touch anyone, nor could anyone else, but all it took was Rumplestiltskin’s cane to brush my ankle, and I took my turn to run. I ran for the closest shelter to me, which was the library. In this realm, its door was wide open, despite having its windows still papered up. I ran in and shut the door.

     The library was dark, but the same fog that swirled outside left the inside of this building untouched. I backed away from the papered windows; the silhouettes of the people of Storybrooke taking turns growing bigger, then stopping. Random shouting that sounded blocks away rather than feet barely came through.

     I felt a presence in the room besides my own and stiffened. It could only be one woman.

    “Didn’t I warn you, using this curse was a bad idea?” Her voice was one I hadn’t heard in decades. It almost sounded as though she was singing to me, but I knew she was gloating. “Do you know what was worse? Keeping me trapped here for twenty-eight years with nothing to think about except you.” She came around in front of me. My head was already down, but I didn’t automatically look away from her dark, sparkling dress that brushed against the floor. Maleficent stood there and waited.

     “You will look at me when I am speaking to you, darling Regina.”

     My head instantly cleared and I easily lifted it to look at her.

     “Why can we look at each other?” My voice came as loud and clear as hers. “Why can we speak together? How come you’re not like the others?”

     “Because, I’m not like the others.” She smiled at the obviousness of this. “If you had wiped my memory and allowed me to walk around this sad town on two human legs, I might only be able to glance at you in dreams and shout at you in whispers as these people do in a dream world. But here I am, with the knowledge of who I am. The fog that’s out there won’t touch me. I bring clarity to everyone.”

     “You mean you can break the curse? You could just walk around everyone out there and free them?”

     “No, only the savior can do that. I can bring them clarity, here. I can’t free them from their waking selves. And when I leave them, the fog comes back and they’re trapped again. Tragic, really. I don’t even bother, but they would love to see your face.” She stepped even closer to me, her hand brushing my hair. I didn’t dare move. All of her actions were calm and comforting, but all of her words were dangerous. “Why would you use a curse without knowing what it would do?”

     “Revenge.”

     “You are not the only one who likes revenge!” She lunged for me and I bolted. “Where will you run?”

     She was right, but I tried anyway. I ran to the door, but she would wake everyone up. I ran to the elevator door, and she simply walked after me. I pulled the heavy door aside, ran in, and tugged at it to close. Her hand shot through, and she pushed it aside as though it were paper. The lever flew from my hand, and pain shot across my face.

     “Can’t use magic in a dream world, can we?” I rub my jaw as she held her hand back. “Maybe the fog is just afraid of you?”

     “The fog isn’t the only thing that should be afraid.” She threw herself at me, but I was ready. I moved out of her way, and she crashed into the corner of the cabin. I turned to step out, but the door closed. Her hand grabbed my neck and threw my head into the closed metal door. I staggered back, not just because that really hurt, but because the elevator jolted down. I turned and tried to hit her, but I missed. She punched me in the stomach and I doubled over. The elevator crashed to a stop. Cold, dank air filled the cabin as the door opened behind me. Maleficent used all her force and pushed me out into the caves below Storybrooke. I flew and landed on my back, just missing falling into a ravine. Maleficent practically flew on top of me and placed her hands around my neck.

     “I hope the savior does come.” She smiled as I tried to pull at her arms to get her to stop. “There’s still a little time left. Then I can kill you in real life. Here, there is only constant torture. I could strangle you forever, here. You’ll suffer for eternity but never die.”  She squeezed harder and smiled.  “I suppose I can be content with that.”

     Tiny black dots appeared before my eyes. They grew bigger. I had no idea how I was supposed to live through this so she could keep doing this. I didn’t have much of an idea about anything. The dots grew until all I saw was black.

     And then, my phone rang. I blinked, and I was in my kitchen. The lights were on in my house and I couldn’t feel Regina inside of me at all. 

Friday, October 21st, 2011

     I woke up this morning, not knowing what day it was. Graham was beside me, as usual. The only reason I woke up as myself was because I had to turn off my alarm clock, and instead of grabbing it, I grabbed Daniel’s coin. I hid it before Graham woke up and had a chance to see it, but I know I didn’t put it there. I would never remove it from my coat pocket. I can only assume she saw the coin while she was in control and it didn’t bring me back! Maybe it did this morning because I just woke up and was vulnerable. Or maybe she’s just playing with me? What is apparent to me is I can no longer count on Daniel’s coin and items from home to keep me present.

     How long I have to write this entry into my diary is unknown. I probably shouldn’t

     I know I stepped away because Henry needed something. I know it wasn’t to drive him to school, as he walks now. There’s no telling now who will be behind the wheel, and Henry values his life too much.

     The fact that I am presently in control would be surprising, except I believe she’s sending me another message. When I came to, I was standing in my room. On the floor in front of me, all of the pages from the book of riddles had been ripped out. Why would I need a help manual if I won’t be in charge, anymore? All the pages were torn in half, save one with a picture of a candle on it.

     Despite her attempts at telling me I have no control over myself, I have discovered that I remain myself when writing in this diary. I wondered if just having the diary with me would be effective, and decided to test this. Shortly after coming to, the click of the front door let me know Henry was home. I grabbed my diary and took a good look at it. It’s a very ornate book: black leather cover with large jewels encrusted into it. The last thing I needed was for Henry to think this was something he needed to investigate. I couldn’t just slap a sticker over it that said “Planner” on it, but I hoped that he might ignore it if I didn’t make a big deal about it. I grabbed a blanket off my bed, wrapped it around myself and held the diary in my blanket-covered hands. Of course, if my plan didn’t work and I couldn’t control myself around Henry, my son might be witness to my possessed body putting on another book-shredding show. I held the book close to my chest and made my way to Henry’s door.

     “Don’t come in.” Henry’s voice sounded muffled on my side of the door.

     “I just wanted to talk.” So far, I was still me. “How are you?”

     “I’m fine.”

     “How was school?”

     “Fine.”

     “May I come in now?”

     “Why?”

     “I’d like to see who I’m talking with. Make sure it’s my son and not an imposter.”

     The door opened for me. I caught the end of Henry’s sigh before he went back to his desk and faced his computer. I came in and sat on the edge of his bed.

     “What are you working on?”

     “Homework.” The slightly higher tone of his voice, combined with the speed in which he said it was homework, suggested it wasn’t actually homework. Not from school, anyway. “What book is that?”

     “Just something Dr. Hopper suggested.” I held it closer to me. “A self-help book.”

     Henry seemed satisfied with that answer and went back to his computer. I looked around at all of the items that filled his room. Each drawing of a dragon, every book, every article of clothing, was a piece in the story of his life here with me. I was drawn to something on his bed. I reached out for it, but was careful to hold my diary close to me.

     “I can’t believe you still have this blanket.” I pulled it around to my lap and felt the soft fabric through my fingers.

     “It’s the only thing I have of my mom’s.” His words were meant to hurt me, and it worked. The blanket almost fell from my hand, but I held on.

     “Your birth-mother, yes.” I wasn’t here to start an argument. “I remember when I first got you. You were wrapped in it when they gave you to me in Arizona.”

     Henry perked up at this. I’d never told him where I got him from.

     “Where in Arizona?” He turned from his screen to look at me.

     “Phoenix.” Having served its purpose, I set the blanket down. “It’s hard to believe sometimes that it’s almost been eleven years since I brought you all the way home. Before you know it, I’m sure you’ll be out of this house.” I got up to leave, but turned around to face him before I left. “I’m going to order pizza tonight.”

     “Okay.” His smile and raised eyebrows were urging me out the door. I’d placed a gem in my son’s hand, and it was now up to him to decide what to do with it.

     As for me, my experiment seemed to have worked. I made it downstairs with my diary as myself. Not to mention, I’ve been able to write all of this without so much as a dizzy spell. I suppose I should have tried this a while ago, but I always assumed I was safe with Daniel’s coin, at least. Besides, it would be far too great a risk if this diary came into the wrong hands. That already happened once with that doctor, I couldn’t imagine what would happen if a townsperson got a hold of it.

     The pizza came quickly, and I called up to Henry to get his own slice. Too many objects in my hands might cause me to drop one, after all.

     “Mom! I forgot to ask you!” Henry bolted downstairs and zoomed into the kitchen. This was the most energetic I’d seen him in months.

     “Ask me what?” I bit into a particularly cheesy bite. I gave him the most focused look I could to him while trying to finish the string of mozzarella hanging between my slice and my teeth.

     “Billy—a friend of mine—from school—“ he built his story, “Billy has a thing he wants me to go to with him tomorrow, and it’s an all-day thing.”

     “What kind of thing?”

     “It’s an event—at the park—a soccer game.” He grabbed a plate and lifted the lid to the pizza box, plopped a slice onto his plate and grabbed at least seven napkins.

     “I’m not sure. It’s been very rainy, this month.”

     “That’s why it’s an all-day thing.”    

     “What is Billy doing?”

     “Playing the drums.” Henry wasn’t paying attention to his story. He was looking at my diary; a ruby had caught the lamplight.

     “At the soccer game?”

     “Uh…” Henry came to and realized his mistake. “Yeah, he’s in the band. It’s a big game—the last game! I should really be there—for Billy.”

     “I think you should, too.”

     “Really?” The surprise in his voice at my agreement spurred him on. “Well, since it lasts the whole day, Billy invited me to stay over. Can I, please?”

     “Is Billy’s mom okay with it?” I knew there was no Billy, or Billy’s mom.

     “Oh, yes!”

     “Then I see no reason why not. I trust you enough to behave at someone else’s house. Just come back early on Sunday.”

     “Thanks, mom!” Henry ran back upstairs with his pizza.

     “Take a jacket,” I shouted up to him, “and a sweater!”

     “Okay!”

     Depending on whether or not I get to say goodbye to him tomorrow morning, that may have been the last time I see Henry. But I can’t cry. I have to stay focused. If I’m right, and successful, I may conquer this cursed persona and get my son back! He’s better off not being here for that, especially if I’m wrong. But it’s still best for me to be alone.

     And that means completely alone. There was a knock on my window as I was fighting going to sleep. My grip tightened around my diary, and I got off my bed to open the window for Graham.

     “You can’t come in tonight.” I caught him with his leg in mid-raise to swing over my window sill.

     “Why not?”

     “I’m going to take a night for myself.”

     “What book is that?” He nodded to my diary.

     “It’s just something I’m reading.” I raised a hand to close my window. “Now go sheriff, or something. This town needs you.”

Monday, September 5th, 2011

     Henry’s locking his room when he goes to bed now. I can’t say I blame him. Too many times now, Regina has let Graham come in through the front door and led him up the stairs to her room, panting and kissing all the way. It’s so hard to convince the sheriff to only use the window after she does that! My skeleton key was out of my pocket and in the keyhole before I could roll my eyes.

     His room was dark, and Henry was out. A fire-breathing dragon wouldn’t wake this boy when he’s sleeping, but I moved to his desk as quietly as I could as a precaution. His backpack was open and upright. I reached inside and my fingers wrapped around a large book. Lifting it up into the moonlight pouring in from his window proved it was what I’d been searching for these many years. “Once Upon a Time” shined across the leather cover. I held the book close to me and crept out of my son’s room, locking the door back up behind me.

     I knew I had a limited amount of time. I sat the book down on my bed and read the whole thing, with its incredibly biased storyline, from cover to cover. I took a moment when I finally finished and checked for signs of Regina. I could still feel her. Why didn’t it work?

    I thought back to Vivian, my one friend, now long gone, who’d broken the curse without the return of a savior. Vivian had said once that it was not only reading the book that brought her back, but a combination of things. She had also said that by now, I’d be begging the savior to come to Storybrooke. Not inclined to getting on my knees, I tried other ways to find my special combination.

     My first thought was to destroy the book, but that proved futile. I tried tearing the pages, but that was like trying to tear sheet metal with my bare hands. I held a match to it, but the pages again reacted as sheet metal would, and I jerked my hand back with the rising heat of the book.

     I had no magic that I was willing to use, but I still had my book of riddles. I pulled that book out and opened it up beside the book of my history. I investigated it to see what it had to say, if anything, on what to do.

    The riddle about the dress came to mind. Rid the room of those who would rip the fabric/ The tailor will stitch it back/ The greater the tear, the greater the repair/ The sleeves may not be even, but the dress will fit. I think the reason Regina doesn’t like Henry so much is because he doesn’t belong. He’s not cursed, and so his absence would not upset her. She’s been nicer to him, sort of. But there is no love from her, only obligation.

     Page after page yielded no result, so far as I could tell. I’d read every one of the riddles before, and none of them sounded like they applied to this. I reached an empty page at the end and the only thing that made sense was to go back and read through them again. But before I could turn back, there was movement on the page. Black ink appeared on the white page, as though it was leaking from the other side. The ink separated and spread, straightened and curled, until it formed some very obvious words:

I will win.

     The book of riddles hit the wall across the room before I realized I threw it. It landed open on the same page. I got off my bed to the corner by the door and saw that the ink was still scrolling across the page. I snapped it off the floor and held it in my arms as a new riddle revealed itself to me.

How can a Queen be saved?

Though the loss is little, it may feel high in cost

A sacrifice deserves a sacrifice

An end deserves an end

For a Queen to be a Queen

She must give up the Thing She Loves Most

     Nothing else appeared on the page. I choked on nothing and coughed. I sat the book down to catch my breath and think about my interpretation of the riddle. It couldn’t mean what I thought it meant. It sounded like the book was telling me—in order to rid myself of this false personality—I would have to kill Henry, as I killed my father.

     I closed the book of riddles and put it away. Maleficent once warned me that the one who cast this curse would have no morals. Now the curse was counting on me still having none. But there is no reason great enough for me to kill my son. There may come a time when my cursed self takes me over and I forget who Henry even is, and for the first time in a long time, I considered the possibility of giving up my son. I would rather Henry safely live in a world where I didn’t know him, over knowing he died for me to remember him all the days of my life.

    I took the book of fairytales back to his room and looked on my sleeping son before closing the door behind me.

     Vivian had always said the curse was a living thing that could think for itself. I never agreed with her, but this is no ordinary curse. It is trying to trick me and beat me, and has told me as much. Before I reached my own room, I embraced Vivian’s theory, and with it a new motivation. If I start to think of it as a living being, then I know I can manipulate it like every other person I’ve had to fight, and I will win.

Sunday, September 4th, 2011

     I’m losing chunks of time. My cursed persona is getting stronger, and she’s taken me over a few times now. Each time feels like just a few hours, but when I’m in control again, I find that days, even weeks have gone by. She’s always there, even when I’m in control, I can feel her in the back of my mind. I can sense her. Her presence is like a low buzzing or a hum, waiting for her turn to take over. “Turn” is the wrong choice of word, as it implies that I have an equal opportunity to be myself. I don’t so much, anymore. She barges in whenever she wants, wherever she wants, and sometimes it’s hard for me to differentiate myself from her.

     There are qualities that separate her from me. She’s a terrible driver, for one thing. I’m lucky to be alive to write this entry, and so are several residents of this town. I can’t say the same for the mailboxes of those residents. The last time I had control of myself, I had the presence of mind to hide the car keys, and she hasn’t found them yet.

     She doesn’t seem to know about some of the things I do as myself. Anything that has to do with magic or the workings of the curse seems to be out of her scope. She doesn’t know about this diary, or the book of riddles, or Daniel’s coin, or even my safe haven underneath my father’s crypt.

     Any reminders of magic bring me back instantly, but I have to wait for her to come across them. It has become increasingly harder for me to force my control over my own body, as I did when Henry had fallen into that pit when he ran away. But I can’t just attach a leather strap to Daniel’s coin and wear it around my wrist. Just to be safer, I’ve strategically placed several talismans in places around my home and office. I’ve brought up little wooden chests from my safe haven and set them up on bookshelves and on my desks. To any cursed or normal person, they might look like charming decorations. But I know them to be chests for holding the hearts of those I wish to control. They are—for the most part—empty. But seeing one is enough for me to be aware that it is something from home that was not meant to be part of this world. So now, being home is relatively safe, and being in my office is relatively safe. Being on my way to work or home is a risk. Being anywhere else is a risk.

     Even still, all of my magical things only work when she sees them. Until then, I’m stuck with her in charge, and she can be very oblivious to what’s on her desk or in her pockets. My protections haven’t completely prevented my cursed persona from taking over and messing things up for me. As mayor, I’ve watched her screw up plans for one project by shifting funds into another, completely stupid one. I almost lost this last election thanks to her, and I ran unopposed!

     Henry hardly talks to me anymore. I can’t blame him. I know she doesn’t like him. She’s not trying to kill him, at least. She’s feeding him. She’s making sure he’s clean. She’s even taking him to therapy.

     I’ve been afraid to face him when I’m myself, so he’s been neglected by her and by me, as well. It breaks my heart to stay away from him, but I see how he looks at me through her eyes. I don’t know if I could handle seeing the same thing through my own.

     Today, I decided I couldn’t ignore him when I’m myself, forever. I gathered all of the courage I had and made my way around my house to find him. Henry was downstairs in the living room. He was standing beside the mantle, with one of the chests in his hands. The lid was lifted and he was peering inside.

     My first instinct was to tell him to get away from there, but I held it back and just watched him. He didn’t know I was there, and he was so fascinated by the box. He held it in his hands and traced a finger over the carvings on the lid. I sometimes wish I could tell him about the Enchanted Forest. I wish I could tell him about how old that box is and what it first contained when his grandfather gave it to me when I was his age. But this is such a better world, even with what’s been happening to me. And to us.

     “Looking for something?” I finally announced myself. Henry stood upright, shut the lid and put the box back on the shelf.

     “No, just looking.” Henry didn’t run, even though I originally thought he would. He stood and stared at me. I don’t know what he was looking at, but it was like he was waiting for something to happen. Whatever it was didn’t happen, I think, because he approached me. I stood back, but instead, he sat on a chair in front of me.

     “Can I ask you something?”

     “Of course.” My exhale of breath surprised me. I didn’t even know I was holding it.

     “How come you’ve never told me anything about my dad?”

     Now I was tense. I sat down across from him.

     “You’ve never asked.”

     “Did he die?”

     “Not that I know of.”

     “Did you divorce him?”

     “No—“

     “Is it Sheriff Graham?”

     “No!” I may have laughed. He slouched at this news, before sitting upright again and taking in a deep breath.

     “Was I adopted?”

     I knew this question would come, eventually. I never wanted to think it would, but I was surprised it took this long.

     “I adopted you shortly after you were born. I don’t know your real parents,” which was true. I personally had never met them. “I only know they couldn’t take care of you.”

     “Why?”

     “Well, your mother was in prison, and I’m sure she wanted to do what was best for you.”

     He looked at me as though her imprisonment was somehow my fault.

     “Do you know who she is?”

     “No,” which was also true, “but I’m glad she had you so I can love you.”

     Henry didn’t look too thrilled about that. My heart sank as I stood from the couch.

     “You better get ready for school.”

     “Today’s Sunday.” He got up anyway. It’s not unusual for me to forget what day it is.

     “What did you think you’d find in there?” I asked before he left.

     “I don’t know. Not a heart or anything.” He stopped at the doorway.

     “Certainly not.” My own heart pounded loud in my chest. “Why would you think I’d keep something like that?”

     “You wouldn’t.” He turned to me. “That’s something an evil queen might do.” My son was blessed with many fine qualities. Subtlety was not one of them. He did his best to correct himself, no doubt because my jaw had dropped. “But you’re not an evil queen! The box just looks big enough.” He stood there and waited for a better explanation to come out of his mouth. He looked up and to his left, as though he was listening for it. Three full seconds passed before he realized none was coming, so he turned and ran for his room.

     “Where are you going?”

     “I have to get ready for school!”

    “Today’s Sunday!” The only answer I received was the slamming of his bedroom door. I sat back down on the couch. There’s only one way a thought like that would even enter his mind. He’s read the book of fairytales. He may even have it.



Saturday, October 31st, 2009

     Henry has been upset since yesterday. I knew I should have seen the signs. He’s upset, and after yesterday, who wouldn’t be? He’s blaming me, I know he is, but I don’t think he quite knows why.

     The show aired live, so everyone in town saw what happened. Everyone’s been looking at him differently and speaking to him differently.

     “Henry,” I broke the silence at last night’s dinner. “I know today has been hard. I’m sure it was embarrassing and—“

     “I’m not embarrassed.”

     “Do you want to talk about it?”

     “No.”

     “All right. Just the same, I think it would be good if you saw Dr. Hopper on Monday. Will you do it for me?”

     “Fine.”

    I didn’t know what Halloween would bring. I didn’t know if he would even want to dress up in his costume again. I wondered as the morning grew closer to disappearing and the afternoon beginning. Finally, I knocked on his door, but no answer. I turned the knob and pushed the door open to find him gone. I ran around the house, searched the yard, and called his name up and down the street before calling Graham to say my son was missing. In less than an hour, the whole town had met and planned to search everywhere we could. A group of us went to the woods and paired off. As misfortune would have it, I was paired with Miss Blanchard, who insisted on consoling me.

     “I’m so sorry, Mayor Mills.” Miss Blanchard and I began our steady walk in as straight of a line as we could.

     “I don’t want to talk, Miss Blanchard.” My pace quickened, but she kept up with me. “I just want to find my son.”

     “It’s just—I never thought he would take such a drastic action. Everyone was used to Henry saying weird things.” This was the closest thing we’d had to a parent-teacher conference in a while. As we walked our careful pace, Henry’s teacher informed me that none of the children seemed surprised or confused by what he had said about Sam or the sixth grader on the show. Apparently, Henry had been saying lots of things like this in class for a while.

    “And you never thought to tell me about this, Miss Blanchard?”

     “I just thought he was playing.”

     The sound of a whistle blew through the air. It was the sound of us to stop and come back. Miss Blanchard and I turned around. Her pace was faster than mine, and she continued to walk on when I stopped. There had been a crunching noise to my right. I turned and saw a fallen tree, its trunk arched off the ground. Beneath that arch were two familiar sneakers.

    “Henry!” I ran to him. My son bolted up and put out a hand to keep me back. On one shoulder was his backpack.

     “Where are you going? Everyone in town has been looking for you.”

     “I know. I’m running away, mom.” A breeze made its way past the trees and feathered Henry’s brown hair. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I don’t belong here. I’ll miss you.”

     “You’re not going anywhere. You’re still a child.”

     “I don’t care. I don’t belong here.” He was still such a little boy. The tree was so big and old, even on its side; Henry only towered over it from his shoulders up.

     “Where exactly will you go?”

     “I know there’s a diner fifteen miles away from us.”

     “Do you know how far that is?” I didn’t like it there. There was something familiar about the rustling of the trees and the softness of the ground beneath my feet wasn’t pleasant. “By car, that’s nothing. But by foot, that could be a whole day for you.”

     “I don’t care.”

     “Well, I do!” It was time to talk some sense into this kid. “There are wild animals out there. And if you get lost, you may not be found, because there’s twenty miles between us and anyone else. And what if you are found? Henry, you know everyone in this town. Everyone here knows you and likes you and wants you to be safe. Not everyone out there is like us. There are people out there who will want to hurt you because they can, and they might look like everyone else.”

     I was getting to him. Henry’s defensive posture relaxed, and now he was only visible from the neck up.

     “A knight doesn’t run away when he’s needed, Henry. I need you.” I stepped in closer, pressing into the dirt beneath my feet. “Please stay?”

     “Okay. I promise.” He saw my outstretched hand and walked around the tree to meet it, but once he reached the end of the trunk, the ground gave way from where the tree had once stood. I don’t know how, but Henry managed to avoid falling in and was hanging onto a strong root at the edge of a pit that looked just like the one in my dreams.

     I was terrified. Henry tried to put his feet flat against the wall of the pit, but he couldn’t turn without the root he was holding onto threatening to bend. I knew that if I just grabbed my son, I could pull him out of there and he’d been fine. But I was so afraid when he fell that I became dizzy. Confusion swept over me before everything made sense, and someone who hadn’t been able to in years came to the forefront of my being. My cursed persona took over my body, and I took a backseat to this terrible moment.

     He reached for my hand, but it was her hand now. She stood there and watched him. She knew him. She wasn’t afraid, but she would not help him.

     Then she took a step back. I have never seen that look of terror on Henry’s face before. His eyes grew wide and he cried for me and begged for me to come back. She was just going to let him hang there, surely not for long because his was thrashing his legs and that would only make him lose his grip.

     I couldn’t stand this. I struggled inside this cage of a body against the curse that had locked me inside it. Every ounce of my identity focused on reaching inside my pocket to grab that coin. First, the shoulder. To my surprise, I moved it back! Then the elbow, back! Four fingers and a thumb attached to my palm reached inside and closed around the coin. I made them hold on and pulled my elbow back once more to raise my hand in front of my face. My hand opened, and there was Daniel smiling back at me. I felt myself rush to the front of my own consciousness and placed the coin back in my pocket. I called out Henry’s name and ran back to him, and at that moment, Graham, Dr. Hopper and everyone else ran in. Graham reached and pulled Henry up and back onto solid ground. I ran to my son and held onto him, repeating “I’m here” over and over again.

     Henry was crying, but he wasn’t really hugging me back. Graham bent down to us and said Henry should get checked out. He grabbed Henry’s hand and took him over to the waiting ambulance. I watched my son sit on the edge of the ambulance as he got checked out by the EMTs. My son looked back at me, but there was something different in his eyes. It frightened me almost as much as watching him fall.

     It was only then that I realized Dr. Hopper had been standing beside me the whole time. I turned on him so fast, he jumped.

     “This is your fault, Hopper!” I pointed my finger right into his chest. “None of this would have happened if you’d started treating him sooner!”

     “N-no! You’re right. I’m sorry.” He took two cautious steps away from me and held up his hands. “I’ll see him every day, if you want.”

     After Henry was cleared, I took my son, and everyone went home. He wouldn’t speak to me during the drive or when we got home. I knew the whole way, even when he shut the door to his room, that I could tell him everything. I could explain everything he suspected and more. But I couldn’t, and now a bond is broken between us. I will fight everyday to mend it.