Maleficent(35)

            “Why can’t I ever come here during the day?” Aurora asked Maleficent one night as the pair wandered through Snow Faeries Meadow. All around them, the iridescent faeries, their wings imprinted with unique snowflake shapes, flitted over the pond in the center of the meadow or played around a big old tree that dominated the shore. From where Aurora and Maleficent stood, the snow faeries looked like hundreds of bright lights that illuminated the tree and made it glow.

            Maleficent looked down at the girl, unsure of what to say. She couldn’t tell her the truth: that if her “aunts” discovered where she was and with whom she was spending her time, they would be very, very upset. Nor could she tell her the reason they would be so upset: that Maleficent was not what she seemed. So instead, she simply said, “It is the only time the Wall is open to you.”

            Before the girl could ask any more questions, Maleficent strode on, forcing Aurora to run to keep up. But through the rest of that night and into the next few days, Aurora’s question tugged at Maleficent. She wanted to see Aurora playing in the Moors during the day. If she was being honest, she wanted to see Aurora all the time and, preferably, for many years. But for that to happen, she would have to do something about the curse.…

            One night, weeks after Aurora’s first trip to the Moors and only a few weeks before her sixteenth birthday, Maleficent lay Aurora down in her bed. And as she had done every night for many nights, she pulled the covers up gently and whispered, “Good night, beastie.” But on this particular evening, as the moon began to sink into the horizon and the sun began to rise, she softly added, “I retract my curse. Let it be no more.”

            As the words left her mouth, the room filled with magic. The air crackled and shimmered and a gentle wind rustled. But the magic didn’t touch Aurora. Narrowing her eyes, Maleficent stepped closer and repeated the words, this time more forcefully. “I retract my curse. Let it be no more.”

            Once again, magic filled the air and the room shimmered. But once again, the magic flowed around Aurora, leaving her untouched.

            Feeling dread begin to build in the pit of her stomach, Maleficent spoke the words again, with still more passion. And then she repeated them. Again, and again, and again she spoke, mustering all her strength and willing all her magic to break the curse. The room began to shake as the massive amount of magic collected in the small space, but Maleficent went on, oblivious. All she could see was Aurora, sleeping the way she would forever if the curse could not be broken. Letting out one last cry, she threw her staff in the air and sent a huge burst of magic raining down over the room.

            But it still didn’t touch Aurora.

            Lowering her staff, Maleficent slowly left the room, her heart aching. She had done everything she could. Yet the curse, the one she had so foolishly called a gift, could not be undone. Which meant, one way or another, in a few short weeks, Aurora would prick her finger on a spinning wheel and never wake up.





                              FILLED WITH REGRET, MALEFICENT SPENT THE NEXT DAY SITTING LISTLESSLY BY THE WALL. The thought of seeing Aurora’s innocent face that evening was heart-wrenching. She felt this new, intense need to protect the girl from the ugliness of the world, but ironically, she was part of it. For she was the one who had cursed her, and she was the one who had made it impossible for her to live a full life, on the Moors or with her family. And, Maleficent thought with a sad laugh, Aurora had been the one to remind her just how important family and friends were. Aurora’s birthday was swiftly approaching, and Maleficent felt more hopeless, more powerless with every day that passed.

            By the time Aurora arrived that night, Maleficent was overtaken by feelings she had thought she had left behind. But never one to show her pain or fear, she simply remained quiet, the torment on her face the only indication of what was going on inside her head.

            Unaware of what her faerie godmother was going through, Aurora prattled on about the cake she had made that day. She had had to go far to find the berries, but it had been worth it, she said, as the aunts were very fond of sweets. Distracted by a faerie fluttering between trees, its green body mimicking the leaves, Aurora interrupted herself, asking, “Do all of the Fair People have wings?”