2: a literary genre or style that incorporates fantastic or mythical elements into otherwise realistic fiction — also called magical realism.
e.g. Artemis Fowl, The Mortal Instruments, Percy Jackson, Twilight
I’m nearly an adult, but in some ways I’m still expecting the plot twist that will make me the protagonist of a fairy tale. I’m waiting for a satyr to reveal himself from a disguise. For a nymph to emerge from the sewer. For a sprite to approach me from the trees in my backyard, to confirm my suspicions, and expose me to my destiny.
In school I learned to tap into some ancient power that
made my skin camouflage and my bones transparent
It doesn’t take much —
first, be quiet. As silent as a statue.
next, tunnel into yourself. Condense.
Sometimes, I find myself unconsciously holding my breath,
so that must factor in, too.
And it requires a strong power of will:
you must wish to be away from your surroundings
With a pinch of glittering notalgia-dust and two hazel irises,
some minion of Puck cast a spell on me when you
sat across from me in English during the sixth grade.
What else can explain my lingering, so-last-season crush?
I’ve grown into someone else, and you have too I’m sure,
So why does the curse cling?
The minion must have snickered and
spit sticky phlegm on its spell for kicks.
The curse has my mind running back and back to you.
Disgusted and frustrated, I run hard and straight in the opposite direction,
But the system’s rigged —
the track is a circle.
I don’t have a fairy godmother or a special sword.
I’m not waiting on a prince, either.
The only spell-breakers for normal folk are extraordinary courage and character.
(In the form of a confession: “Hey, I used to sort of like you and it makes me feel weird around you.”)
The curse rests on my chest; disclosure will shove it off.
But I’m not that honest,
and I don’t have bravery, either.
Then one day, I’m a little distracted during school,
because my cursed lenses viewed your glance at me as more than accidental.
I mention this to my friend, and she says “But he’s dating someone right now.”
The girl named is beautiful and kind.
Suddenly, the path straightens, and I
smile to myself as I walk to my next class, thinking about curses (specifically: lifted ones).
Not all fairy tales need a moral before “The End.”
May be continued?