An interesting tidbit (well, it's my blog and I SAY it's interesting, so there) is that I read this out at Write Club for an adult audience and they loved it. But some time later I read it out for a teenage group to dead silence. For whatever that set of statistics is worth.
I have a theory, which I’ve
probably inadvertently stolen from someone else, that you can really get into
someone’s head if you ask them to tell you a story. Well, maybe not so much
just by asking; they have to follow through and tell you, and it can’t be someone
else’s story. They have to tell you their own. So, try this: ask someone you
want to get to know to tell you the story of the princess and the dragon. You
may have to explain that you’re not asking them to tell you THE story, but A
story involving A princess and A dragon; one that they come up with on their
own. It’s kind of a collective unconscious metaphorical interpretation of
common archetypes tempered by improvisational aptitude. Unless they throw their
drink at you, in which case you didn’t want to get to know them anyway.
Good, you’re still
here. Why don’t we just do an example? Ericka is the big sister I should have
had, and she was the one who created this irritating game. I was eight years
old when she first told me the story of the princess and the dragon, and it
went roughly like this:
“Once upon a time
there was a beautiful princess with long golden hair and lips the color of the
deepest crimson. She was the most beautiful princess the land had ever known,
and word of her beauty spread far and wide.
“Unfortunately, one
set of eyes that the princess had attracted belonged to that of a dragon, who
decided that she should be the prize of his treasure trove. The dragon came to
the kingdom one day and stole the princess away with no resistance from the
people who were unprepared to face such a powerful creature. The king sent word
that anyone who could defeat the dragon should be granted the hand of the
princess in marriage.
“For a year, valiant
knights tried to scale the tower only to fall victim to the dragon’s jaws. Then
one day a traveling minstrel arrived at the tower where the princess was being
held. He approached the entranceway and strummed confidently on his lyre to get
the dragon’s attention. The dragon almost crushed the minstrel on the spot, but
the minstrel looked directly into the dragon’s eyes, shook his head, and said
‘You don’t want to do that’.
“Now the dragon was a
proud creature, but the mere suggestion that a human could have some
perspective on what it did and didn’t want to do was so offensive that it
couldn’t help but feel curious, as such it allowed the minstrel to continue.
‘Noble being, you have acquired the most immaculate hoard this land has ever
seen, a trove of such magnitude that you are the envy of the king himself.
Would you contaminate this marvel with the repugnance of death from a lowly
human?’
“The minstrel’s words
pinpricked the dragon’s pride in a most unexpected manner. Never before had the
dragon considered the value of its hoard could be diminished by the residue of
a human carcass. Sensing the dragon’s intrigue would only last so long, the
minstrel added quickly, ‘Please allow me the honor of my very life, most noble
being, to present you with the greatest treasure I possess; one that will
never tarnish or decay.’
“And the minstrel
began to play a song. It was a good song, charming in a way, but nothing
particularly special. Yet somehow the minstrel’s words had convinced the dragon
that the melody was a thing of rarity and thus an exceptional gift. When the
minstrel had finished playing, he set his lyre down on the ground and backed
away from it. ‘Noble being, no song shall I ever play again from this
instrument, for it has produced the most beautiful melody it will ever play. It
was an honor to give my gift to one as mighty as you. Now by your grace I wish
to remove my unworthy company from your presence.’ And with that, the minstrel
walked through the doorway from which he had entered, strode three arrow
flights away, and waited.
“Within the hour, the
most beautiful princess in the land was kicked out of the tower, as the dragon
had realized that she would grow old, and tarnish, and die. And such a limited
prize would contaminate the value of its hoard. The dragon replaced the
princess with the minstrel’s lyre, which would never age, even if it would also
never produce any melody again. But satisfied that the trove was now
perfect, the dragon remained in the tower for the rest of its existence.
“And as for the
minstrel and his princess, they were wed that very day. And they lived happily
ever after.
“And some time later
they both died.”
I took three things
from Ericka’s version of the story. One, like most fairytale princesses, this
one may as well have been named Macguffin. Two, Ericka had a lot more faith in
my eight year old vocabulary than I would have. Three, a person’s life story
really makes for a lousy story, because in the end they die. It’s not really a
happy ending unless you hate them.
Here’s another
version of the story, this time from my friend Brandon who clearly has a less
than favorable view of medieval knights.
“Once upon a time
there was a valiant knight in search of the beautiful princess of legend. After
many days and nights, obviously alternating, he arrived at the tower where she
was known to be sleeping. Unsheathing his mighty sword, he crept into the main
hall where the most monstrous beast he had ever seen on rested. Seizing his
chance, the knight raised his sword and lopped off the dragon’s head before the
creature could even open its eyes.
“Proudly, he climbed
the highest staircase and strode into the tiny room at the top, expecting to
find his beloved awaiting his kiss. Instead he found a nearly empty room,
adorned with a single tapestry, which read:
Ye of valor, swift of
blade
On thy ravenous
crusade,
Didst thou think thy
princess fair
Be of human lips and
hair?”
My longest friend
Fredonna gave me this cute little gem.
“Once there was a
princess; with porcelain skin, ballerina legs, thick lips, tiny waist, perky
boobs, and a skirt that barely qualified as a skirt. And there was a dragon.
But nobody noticed.”
These could go on,
but I know there are other stories to be told with other characters and morals.
But before we go, I’d like to tell you my personal take on the theme.
“Once upon a time,
there was a princess. And there was also a dragon. The two of them had very
different ideas of how a kingdom should be run. They also had different ideas
of what made a palace look beautiful. In fact, they disagreed on everything;
literature, music, ice cream flavors, they had absolutely nothing in common.
Their differences would most likely have brought them into countless arguments
had they ever encountered each other, but this would never be the case. They
were so different, that they didn’t live in the same kingdom, or even the same
time period. In fact, neither one of them ever heard of the other one. They
both lived out their lives, each one never being made aware of the other, and
never having a single thing in common. Except for this story.
“So
if you want to play God, be a writer.”
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