Fairy Tales

I am going to write a story that is based in a rehab clinic. The patients inside are all going to be the disney princeses, and they will all be telling their stories.

The princess im going to include are

• Cinderella- PTSD Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.
• Jasmine- Kleptomanic.
• Snow White- Schitzophrenia.
• Belle- Recovering drug addict.
• Sleeping Beauty- Depression.
• Rapunzel- Paranoia.
• Ariel- Body Dysmorphia.

I bet you all thought princesses had a stress-free life. A fairly average childhood, rescued by Prince Charming, gets married and lives happily ever after. Not quite. You may not know it, but most of them end up here. Especially the well-known ones.  The PRC. Short for ‘Princess Rehab Clinic’.

Cindy? She’s here. For post-traumatic stress disorder and Snow White is here for schizophrenia.  Ariel has BDD (Body Dysmorphia), Aurora has depression, Rapunzel is paranoid and Jasmine, well she’s a kleptomaniac. And then there’s me.  Belle, recovering drug addict. Sounds amusing don’t it? Throughout my story I was high as a bird on ecstasy. I mean, you must have thought I was crazy to fall in love with that beast. And he truly is a beast. He burps, he farts he eats all the food and is very unsatisfying in bed. It was my 9^th day here; I’d stopped taking the pills and was recovering steadily. But what I hated most was the sharing part. I liked to keep myself to myself; I didn’t want everyone knowing my life. (This is ironic really, seeing as I have a book written about me)

‘Could patients 3574 to 3581 come to the auditorium for the counselling?’

I sat down on one of the chairs that were positioned in a circle, and watched Jasmine, Aurora, Ariel, Cinderella, Snow White and Rapunzel join me.  The councillor flounced in. A former patient, flounced in. Her new title is now ‘Fairy councillor’ Catchy right? First up to tell her story was Snow White.

‘It all started when I was young. I use to talk to my teddies, and I’d hear them talking back to me. But I thought it was normal. Anyone would. Just a child’s imagination. Later on though, we found that I had an illness, but it was okay it wasn’t severe and I had medication. When I turned 19, it was time for me to move out. My step-mother had bought me a little cottage in the woods, and I liked it there. The first night I was living there, I heard some little voices. Voices of men. Little men. Then they walked in, 7 little dwarves. We quickly became friends and they told me there names were Doc, Sneezy, Happy, Bashful, Dopey, Grumpy and Sleepy. I always found it strange though. How when I had taken my medication, they were never there. And in a few hours when it had worn of, they were back. One day, my step-mother came by with some delicious apples she had picked form the royal apple trees. Doc told me they were rotten apples, and I had to kill her. He argued with me until I agreed, so I did. I took her out on a walk, and as I ran to the top of the hill, I pushed a boulder onto her. Horrible death really. But it was them. The voices, I couldn’t help it’

‘That’s quite enough dear. Thank you for sharing. So who’s up next?’

‘I suppose it’s my turn now’ Aurora slowly whispered.