I’m already 13-years-old. I even know that the fat red-clad old man with a bushy white beard and a generous pocket of money who says “Ho, ho, ho,” and rides around in a “Rudolph-the-Reindeer”-pulled sleigh filled with free gifts every December 24th midnight, does not exist. I’m old enough to know that the fairy that steals teeth and refunds you right away with random shiny coins, the shining knights who defeat bad dragons, and the fairy godmother that helps the princess get along, are not true. I am fully aware that the worlds in which the dashing and handsome prince always dodges the infinite number of arrows that seems to block out the sun, and the humble, pretty, angelic girl always meets the handsome prince to become a princess in the end are pretty unrealistic. For my previous years that I can remember, I have waited for Santa Claus and despaired when I did something bad with trembling in fear of not getting Christmas presents. I am very sorry for myself for acting like a clueless baby. I sometimes blame my parents for feeding me false beliefs for 13 years, but most of all, I am guilt-ridden by believing in the land of magic and fantasy. I brood about the naivety of Emily, my little sister, who does “ice magic” and “freezes” us in her Elsa costume. Emily, you’re destined to know this somewhere around my age if you don’t realize it earlier. Good luck for not breaking down and blubbering on the ground! After this epiphany of mine, the first thing I need to do is to figure out what made me remain as a false-believer for 13 years.  Was it the promise of bribery of adults by candy? Was it the stuffed animals that I had carried around every time like my shadow? Am I believing for the fun of believing? Those beliefs probably made me feel safe and reassured, since they gave me money and gifts every year, and I was particularly drawn to things that are wrapped with shiny paper and ribbons. Books! Books that I have been reading, sleeping, and traveling with for 13 years? Books spread the word! Now that I know they have tricked me, I have pinpointed the exact offender. The vile Book-of-Interest, the Fairy Tale, has deceived me and has kept me in a prison lined with gold and candy as a willing prisoner. Free from the golden prison, I am fully ready and excited to be a critic of absurdity, discrepancy, and unrealistic aspect of fairy tales, letting magic still work in the story, as magic is the basis of all of these stories and I cannot negate magic myself, since I am still caught up in the process of exploring the mysteries of the magic world.

Imagine the house of sweets in the woods from Hansel and Gretel. What would happen to the witch’s house of sweets and pastries if it rained? Their edible prison would be demolished into mush, leaving Hansel and Gretel an effortless escape route. Even though it didn’t rain, her magnificent house would be in the next Thanksgiving All-you-can-eat buffet for the animals. That’s why the witch shouldn’t eat the little kids but should eat the animals. I would rather be a carnivore than a cannibal. On top of that, what kind of witch could resist grilled animals with fresh vegetables tossed with red wine and blood, after fattening the animals and treating them with courtesy?
        

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair.” That is the magical line that everybody remembers from Rapunzel. Then promptly, a stream of shiny golden hair slides out of the sole window and falls perfectly into the hands of the prince or her evil stepmother who waited to come up. The climber scales the tower, and lands in unscathed every time. Is the hair strong enough to hold a human? Four probable cases are imminent when the prince grips the hair. First, Rapunzel’s hair could be ripped out of her head, she would be bald, and she would spend the next twenty years growing her hair and using a wig, worrying about it being blown off her head by a strong wind. The prince coming up would be compensated for his fall with a significant amount of hair. Second, Rapunzel’s neck would snap with the weight while the hair could miraculously stand the weight, ending in the tragic and dramatic, but quick death of Rapunzel. If one of these two possibilities happens, and the prince happens to be smart, he could be a millionaire selling Rapunzel’s extra-durable hair in many different forms such as harnesses, thread, cords, and so on to rock-climbing companies, apparel companies, the military forces, and other willing buyers. Third, Rapunzel's hair could not bear the weight and would be severed in the middle so the prince could not go up. The prince would try hard to lose weight and ascend up the hair without falling down with tufts of hair in his hands. To make matters worse, Rapunzel would be getting older and losing more hair. The thinner the prince would get, the more hair Rapunzel would lose. As a result, they would never get to meet each other anymore and die separately. The Prince would die of malnourishment and Rapunzel of sadness, since she lost all of her hair. They are really a sad excuse for a couple. Fourth, Rapunzel could fall over the edge of the tower, then crash into the prince clinging on to her hair. They would both die together, creating a romantic end to the story.

Snow White is a very silly case that even magic forgot to cover. After the evil stepmother poisons and chokes Snow White with an apple, she faints, and is carried by the dwarves in a fancy crystal case, and then is kissed by the prince who rides on his faithful steed. The kiss takes the apple out of Snow White’s throat, and removes the poison out of her body. Now I face the fact that kissing is sweet especially to the people in love, but how does the kiss here do all those things? It’s the equivalent to touching a person, and curing him from cancer instantly. Besides, the prince’s “royal” behavior perturbs me greatly. Isn’t it rude for a prince to go up to a girl he just saw a few seconds ago and just kiss her on the lips? Even if she could possibly be stone dead even in the crystal case? How creepy, weird, and impolite to do that!  At least he should ask one of the dwarves, “Excuse me, I really want to kiss the possibly dead-looking girl, as I am a royal prince, if you don’t mind.” Anyway, if he could cure anybody from poison by kissing them, he should go around kiss all of the sick people to heal them. He would be the leading doctor in the world, and we would be learning about the anatomy of his kiss in biology class.

The Grimm Brothers made a stellar princess story, but it left some shortcomings. “You have to return by 12 o’clock!” It is said by that old and silly fairy godmother of Cinderella, who apparently likes to roll up her sleeves and always forgets her wand wherever she goes. As Cinderella is dancing with the prince, they decide to take a break and sit down, and as if on cue, the clock tower chimes 12 o’clock, which invokes a surprised exclamation from Cinderella: “Oh! I’m sorry. I must go now!” The prince, definitely in love with her, insists that she stay. They argue for a few seconds, and Cinderella daintily runs away, with her skirt held high. The prince follows and grasps her hand. Cinderella says for the one-hundredth time, “I must go! Please!” In the background, we can hear the clock chiming. Then Cinderella breaks free, and runs down the steps to the magical carriage. While doing that, the fateful moment takes place: Cinderella drops her slipper. She goes to retrieve it, but seeing that the prince is not far behind, she leaves it behind and hops in her carriage for the trip home. That's when the magic is undone. Why hadn't Cinderella changed at 12 o'clock sharp? It’s obvious that Cinderella changed into her raggedy self a long time after 12 o’clock, which is perfect timing, carefully orchestrated by the author. If the story were consistent with what the fairy godmother said, Cinderella would go back to rags when the clock started to ring twelve times. The prince would be befuddled, and would stare at Cinderella, then would politely ask her what happened to her. Well, Cinderella now has two options. If Cinderella were sure of the prince’s love, she could introduce her life to the prince and then Cinderella’s life would depend on the prince’s love. If the prince truly loved her, he would look at her with “eyes of love” and then marry her on the spot. If the prince didn’t like her so much and was shocked by her transformation, he could politely refuse her and tell her to enjoy herself. In this case, Cinderella would live in the slavery of her stepmother, lamenting her bad behavior of not listening to her fairy godmother’s advice. If Cinderella were not so sure of the prince’s love, she would start crying, and say nothing to save face, then rush off into the woods. She would live in there with her superhuman animal friends and die in their humane care.
“Wait! I don’t even know your name!” It is said by the prince running after Cinderella when the clock starts to chime midnight. This exchange of words makes me scratch my head. The prince has danced with Cinderella for a few hours, and both liked each other very much. And the prince didn’t know her name. In a royal ball intended for the romantic and dramatic marriage of the prince, the guests and the prince are supposed to make small and/or personal talk with each other. Any normal person would ask another person’s name when he/she meets her/him. What did they talk about during the dance? Did they just gaze at each other with eyes of love and just smile for a couple of hours? Are you crazy? Or did they play a game of charades and jump around like fat hippos? Or hide and seek? Wait. I have to point out one more thing: Cinderella is bad. She didn’t listen to directions that her fairy godmother told her. That’s really naughty. My mom always says that you have to listen to directions, particularly with marriage-related stuff. Is she an untrustworthy person? Does she deserve to marry the prince and be a princess?  If I were the prince who knew about Cinderella not listening to directions, I would definitely reject her.
I have a vague and nagging suspicion. Does everybody already know about these flaws that I have pointed out?  Why would these inaccuracies happen if the authors were people who don’t tend to mess up on their masterpieces? I have a new idea. What if the authors “messed up” on purpose? The purpose for these mistakes is evident. It makes the story very dramatic, exciting, unforgettable, and most of all, perfect. And why perfect? So the pretty and kind heroes can accomplish their hopes and dreams. Also, this kind of impeccable structure of the world gives life lessons and inspiration to the young and thirsty children so they could live their life as a good person and to do good deeds. Imagine your heart thumping in excitement and anticipation when time is running out and Cinderella is dashing to the coach. The excitement increases to a feverish pitch when Cinderella drops her shoe. For that moment, I was afraid that Cinderella would get caught, and turn into ragged clothes in front of the Prince. The author just had to keep Cinderella from morphing into the servant at all costs in front of the prince’s royal eyes.
Let me tell you another explanation for Cinderella not changing. When you are doing something fun and engaging, 2 hours could seem like a mere 10 minutes. If you are doing something boring or is running late and in a hurry, one minute seems like 20 minutes. In a hockey game, time is very fickle. When my team is losing, time seems to move along like a cheetah. In the snap of a finger, a whole period goes by. This could be the case. Time “slowed down” when Cinderella was escaping. Remember the moment when the prince meets Cinderella for the first time. Ignoring every girl in his way, he walks over to Cinderella, and afterwards, only Cinderella remains in his vision for the whole dance. He is so in love with Cinderella that he doesn’t even need to ask for names. It is truly love at first sight, when pupils turn into heart symbols. Love and marriage at first sight is prevalent in many books that I have read, and even in the real world. I do have to confess, love at first sight is number one on my wish list of life. These things I have pointed out are not flaws, but deliberate features that the author wanted to add to his fairy tale.

I no longer want to be a prince with a golden crown studded with diamonds and jewels or a ninja that fights for justice. I am looking over the beautiful and giant forest of the fairy tales that I used to endlessly explore, finding a new and amazing story every day. I have now gone through every of its twists and turns to emerge out to look down upon it. The full picture of the forest and its significance is now evident to me. I’m full of contentedness after constructing a grand gingerbread house that I have dreamed about since Hansel and Gretel was known to me. Such a wonderful and delightful house. I have so many things to build! Rapunzel’s tower, Snow White’s cottage, I can’t name all of them! I have to invite princesses and princes, knights, dragons, and kings from every kingdom, known and unknown. Oops. I forgot the fairies and witches. They are quite important. But I’ll have to regulate all of my visitors and creatures. I can’t let the evil queen feed the poisoned apple to the three little pigs and the wolf blow Rapunzel’s tower away! I can’t imagine three little pigs crammed in a crystal coffin. What kind of prince would like to kiss a pig? It’s going to be a horrible mess that way! These imaginations from the forest make my hopes and dreams bloom and develop. I am very thankful that fairy tales have presented a dazzling and enchanting world to me, and I am so proud of myself that I can write my own beautiful and magical stories. I have now fully realized the beauty of the fairy tales, and I love them dearly. I will make the ideal choices like the authors of the fairy tales to keep the audience on their toes. Dig deep into your memory to find yourself screaming at Cinderella to escape down the stairs fast, and to get on the carriage so that the prince will not see her in rags. Cheer on the prince when he is fighting the witch! My eyes get watery when the glass slipper fits on Cinderella’s foot, and the prince kisses her. I don’t know how much I could thank the writers of the fairy tales for the happy ending. I am still dreaming of my own fairy tale that starts: “Once upon a time, there was a beautiful girl named…” I thrash in my bed while I dream, since it is so intriguing. I also think about Santa’s presents to me in my dreams. What will he award to me? I am so excited!