Read first:
- Story 1: Coronavirus in the Fairytale Land. Princess Reasonzel and a Mysterious Virus
- Story 2: Coronavirus in the Fairytale Land. Epidemic at the BALL
- Story 3: Coronavirus in the Fairytale Land. Doctor Dolittle and the Little Lighter Girl
- Story 4: Coronavirus in the Fairytale Land. Hundred Acre Isolation Ward
An Easter Carol
That year not everyone in the Fairytale Land was looking forward to Easter celebrations, though the reasons for this sentiment varied.
“Finally, no need to burn invites sent out of pity or put on the dog at boring parties. No questions about the cakes I’m baking or the number of eggs I’ve eaten. A solo Easter means I can just as well ignore it altogether,” thought Cruella sinking into a state of lethargy. Towards the end of the Holy Week, her windows were covered with grey dust – why would anyone torment themselves looking through clear glass at the world they cannot enter? – and her unaired closet still sported winter furs. She would soon become covered with cobwebs herself, like her oven, unused for over a month, if a child’s voice hadn’t woken her up in the middle of the night:
“Ms. de Vil? Sorry for the intrusion, but I have come to warn you.”
Cruella jumped from her unmade couch as if she had seen a ghost, and only calmed down when she made sure she was actually seeing a ghost.
“Please, don’t be afraid. You may have failed to recognise me because of the face mask. I’m Casper, the Friendly Ghost. I think you need a friend.”
Cruella rolled her eyes, grateful, however, that whoever was responsible for the prank hadn’t sent Twilight Sparkle or a care bear.
“How did you get here?” she asked suspiciously, thinking not of the closed door or going through walls.
“Ghosts are excused from the ban on travels and visits because, being dead, they can’t transmit diseases.”
“Then why are you wearing a face mask?”
Now it was Casper’s turn to roll his eyes.
“Because there are no excuses from this regulation, and I am not too eager to spend my pocket money on a fee.”
“OK, pup, you may just as well go back home and let me get back to sleep.”
“I won’t leave until you hear me out. I came here to warn you.”
“You’re barking up the wrong tree.” Cruella got out of the hollow in her couch. “I am perfectly aware of what is going on. Epidemic, pandemic… One doesn’t need to visit the BALL every day to know as much as one needs. Tell anyone you like that I’m well, staying at home and not having any visitors.”
Cruella reached for a cigarette lying on a dressing table and lit it, giving the ghost a moment to take the floor.
“It’s not about your safety but about your sanity.”
The villain choked on cigarette smoke, but Casper continued undeterred.
“You don’t frequent the BALL, so no one knows what you’re up to or whether you are even alive or in a need of a caravan. Besides, no one should be on their own at Easter. You used to love this time of the year!”
“Did I? Who told you so?” Cruella straightened her dressing gown, which was crumpled after a few days of uninterrupted wearing.
“All the guests at the BALL have recently been recalling old days. I was truly moved when Granny, still grateful for your intervention, remembered how one Easter you chased off the Wolf from her hut.”
“That was an accident. I only did it because he claimed he was Little Red Riding Hood. It was her that I wanted to scare off and make miserable,” commented Cruella without a trace of emotion.
“And the triplets from Duckburg recalled how you accepted their invitation to an Easter party with the scouts and amused the youth with jokes about making a fur of Pluto,” continued Casper.
“They weren’t supposed to be jokes,” said Cruella, roving between the couch and the dressing table. “And I only accepted the invite because it promised ‘Easter dinner with a duck’. But I expected the poultry would be lying roasted on the table, not sitting at it, unplucked and having fun. Will you stop hounding me?”
Casper stopped in mid-air.
“These memories really aren’t helpful. I am going to say it in a way that should appeal to you: every dog has his day.”
Before Cruella managed to ask him what he meant, the ghost dissolved into thin air. The memories did have an effect on the villain, though, for she spent the next hour remembering other Easters during which she spoilt the festivities with great artistry and satisfaction.
“It wasn’t such a dog’s life,” she thought, lying back on the couch and lighting one cigarette from another.
Suddenly, she felt a prick on her back. When she looked under the stack of pillows beneath her, she found some irregular beans with an engraved letter S and a piece of paper saying: “Use them at Easter. Casper”.
She had just managed to reflect that she had no use for such things when a second spirit materialised in her living room.
“Do you also intend to save me from myself?” yelled Cruella, recognising masked Genie.
“I definitely think I should because you look like you are going to the dogs. Since you don’t visit the BALL, I intend to make sure you see how other villains prepare for Easter.”
“Are we going to fly on a magic carpet?” Cruella became enthusiastic. “I have always wanted to spy on the competition.”
“Unfortunately, all carpets have been handed over to the medical services. But there is no need to leave home. Celebrities show their palaces, flats and daily life of their own accord. You’ll see they are keeping themselves busy. The Evil Queen, for example, bakes apple pies, day and night in full make-up, while asking the Magic Mirror for recent news and prognoses, which she passes on to the rulers…
“…circulating fake news,” finished Cruella. “Not bad. I need to write it down.”
Genie shook his head displeased and changed the station.
“Having decorated the ship with Easter eggs, Captain Hook and his pirates give geography classes and dance zumba for kids in the net…”
“…corrupting pupils. Fantastic! I have my notebook here. Show me more!”
“Wicked Step Mother also conducts lessons at the BALL. Yeah, I know what you are going to say: ‘They are intentionally boring and old-fashioned in order to discourage children from studying’, but believe me, she does her best to relieve parents who have to work from home.”
Yet Cruella was only half listening while jotting down her own observations.
“And who’s that?” she asked when Genie changed the station again.
“Ursula, the octopus, in a police hat.”
“Has she drowned some poor wretch and now sinks ships in the name of the law?” guessed Cruella.
“No, she volunteered to turn around cruisers and separate fishing boats that don’t keep the required distance. And when the coast is clear, she scrubs sunken shipwrecks so that they shine at Easter.”
Cruella raised her eyebrows, dubious.
“Maleficent regretted that her curse caused all spindles to be banned from the kingdom, and now sews and sends out face masks at her own expense, remembering to wash and iron her own hand-woven curtains,” continued Genie. “And the Witch from the Gingerbread House and Mother Gothel opened food services at their homes and offer Easter catering for free, specialising in pastries and vegan dishes.”
“Do you want me to believe that they don’t poison their meals and don’t want any children in return?” Cruella squinted her eyes to better see the villains bustling about in white kitchen aprons. “You’re as crooked as a dog’s hind leg. They must be fattening unsuspecting clients who are deprived of physical exercise in their homes in order to eat them later.”
Genie lost all of his enthusiasm.
“If you don’t believe me, maybe someone of your own cast will convince you. I’m spiriting away.”
And the ghost disappeared, indeed.
Before Cruella managed to flick the ash from her cigarette, a terrifying phantom with a blue beard sticking out from beneath an equally blue mask appeared on a dinosaur-shaped monster.
“Nessie and Bluebeard. To what do I owe the displeasure?” greeted them Cruella.
“Let’s skip the courtesies. The nights are getting shorter, and you have still lots to see. You are about to travel in time and space. Fortunately for you, we can do both while staying at home. Put these glasses on and hold on to something!”
Cruella stuck the goggles on her head ignoring the damage to her already dishevelled hair.
“Is that the tower of princess Reasonzel?” she asked looking around. “I didn’t know she could see the top of Aurora’s and Prince Charming’s castles from her window.”
“She can’t, but the air will soon be clear enough to make it possible. What you see now is a projection of the near future. That is why the tower is empty. Now brace yourself because you may feel sick.”
Cruella dug her overgrown nails in the edge of her couch, plummeting down from the tower into the depths of the Giant Coral Reef. Having calmed down, she looked around curiously.
“Something is missing here. I can see corals, but… where is Nemo? I thought nature revived.”
“He died,” explained Nessie. “Just like all the other fish, turtles, crocodiles and even birds. And what you see here is not a coral, but a torn plastic glove. The whole coral reef is covered with personal protective equipment.”
Cruella shuddered when a disposable mask resembling a jellyfish drifted uncomfortably close to her nose.
“You can’t make a fur from fish scales anyway. And the birds chirping behind my window are rubbing my fur the wrong way. What about humanoids?”
“Watch here,” Bluebeard showed Cruella a forest clearing strewn with multi-coloured mushrooms. “It’s a depopulated Smurfs’ village. The disease took Papa and Grandpa Smurf and a considerable part of the population. The others didn’t make it without them, and they were too distrustful to accept help from others. Their fate was shared by other so far self-sufficient communities and those that wanted to become such after the epidemic.”
“Poor Gargamel,” thought Cruella impulsively.
“But what does it have to do with me?” she asked Bluebeard. “I don’t suspect a murderer of numerous wives is trying to persuade me to save innocent lives.”
“I would like to note that ‘the murderer of numerous wives’ wouldn’t have been able to kill any of them if the pandemic had done it before him,” observed the phantom. “He would also not have been able to throw any lavish reception parties if the economy in his lifetime had been hit by a recession. But it’s all up to you.”
Cruella took off the goggles.
“And you want to teach an old dog new tricks? Do my colleagues in the same line of work really help others so that they can torment them in the future?” she asked, still disbelieving. “What do you suggest then? You surely don’t want me to remake my furs into face masks, like Catskin?”
“Fur masks would be somewhat impractical in spring, and they would increase allergies,” agreed Bluebeard. “I’m afraid there is no simple answer to your question, but there is something you may do. Start with yourself. Comb your hair, paint your nails, prepare your house for Easter and do anything that gives you pleasure. Who knows, maybe this way you will find out how to best help yourself and others? Maybe you could start with adopting a homeless Dalmatian from a dog shelter to be able to legally go for walks?”
Cruella wanted to give him a sarcastic look from beneath raised eyebrows, but the sun began to rise, and both the Loch Ness Monster and her rider dissolved into thin air.
Cruella didn’t waste her time. Having tidied herself up, she grasped the ‘Cinderella’s Kit’ and made her mansion as clean as a hound’s tooth, putting dozens spiders at risk of a fine for breaking quarantine. While cleaning, she even whistled ‘Glory hallelujah!’, heard by chance on the Quasimodo station. Next, she unfolded the wishing table, Easter edition, which she ordered last minute, and painted her favourite black spots on the white eggs it conjured. She also donated a substantial sum to a charity foundation that promised to buy respirators manufactured by Lightning McQueen and his friends.
When everything was ready, Cruella took the beans left by Casper from the drawer. The beans shot stalks into the sky where they connected wirelessly with others, allowing their owner to chat with several villains simultaneously without leaving her house.
“It seems I was mistaken. I still don’t know who sent the masked ghosts or what his true motives were, but I admit that neither spending Easter on my own nor blowing it off were good ideas. Social distancing is far easier to endure while staying in touch with others,” she concluded, tapping the visualisation of Mother Gothel’s egg decorated with impressed rapunzel leaves, with her own spotted egg.
…to be continued…
I hope you enjoyed this story. Feel free to share the link to this page with anyone you want!
If you would like me to write a similar (or a totally different 😉 ) story for someone you know, please read my OFFER or contact me directly at joanna@mypresents.eu .
And if you are at a loss as to how you can celebrate someone’s special day while maintaining social distance, read my ideas for “12 safe gifts to give in the time of a disease”.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
JOANNA OSESIK – Polish-English-German translator, teacher, lecturer; privately wife, mother, friend and blogger. In 2020 she published the first of her numerous short stories, which have so far been enjoyed only by her family and friends.
What she cherishes most in fiction is uncovering stories that are concealed or inconspicuous and providing ordinary content with an original, magical lining.
On her blog mypresents.eu/en, she recalls wonderful, ingenious gifts she has given or received and shares her ideas on how to make others smile with personalised presents. In her free time, she also helps readers to write stories as gifts for their nearest and dearest.
Feel free to consult your ideas by writing at joanna@mypresents.eu .
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