Love, Faith & Other Fairytales

[Cyrus Daniels]

For as little as Cyrus Daniels thought of his father, Chase, his mother, Jasmine was only marginally better in his recollection. She was more invested in him as a nipper, she had introduced him to books through the classic fairy tales. Occasionally, she’d read to him on the few special nights when her left eye wasn’t swollen shut and her vision wasn’t too blurry with tears.

Through her love of Rapunzel, his mother had taught Cyrus the value of reading and the power of escapism. Together, they’d leave their real lives behind for a while and live another better, happier and more fulfilled lives in far away lands and magical kingdoms.

Cyrus hadn’t considered the personal significance of his mother’s favourite fairytale in decades, and like most adults, he recalled only the broadest strokes of the tale. Some girl trapped in a tower, ultimately rescued by a prince after she’d let down her magnificent braid for him to climb up.

It had been Vivienne’s suggestion that he read Rapunzel to their boys tonight. Of course Vivienne had all the fairytales, most in different editions and volumes. She had picked out what she claimed was Liam’s favourite version, so now he bounced his son on his knee as he read aloud. Noah was being breastfed by Vivienne who sat next to him, topless and free, unjudged and not shamed by him for her most natural choices as a loving mother. She had told him that that fact made Cyrus so much more of a real man than the men that had come before him.

Cyrus had been mildly bemused by the absurdity of some Sheila with such a hankering for salad that she rather melodramatically manipulated her jumbuck of a husband into sneaking into a witch’s backyard and stealing some rapunzel, but the story’s darker turn of the disgruntled witch demanding that the absolute pussy sacrifice his unborn daughter to her as punishment for his theft was not something he recalled at all. The rediscovery of this part of the narrative certainly hit him differently now that he was a couple months into fatherhood himself.

“What a wally,” Cyrus whispered, exasperated.“I’d have slapped the - witch!”

“Wally.” Liam looked up to his father, every bit a daddy’s boy. “Slap!”

“Well, he’s definitely your son,” Vivienne beamed.

“Seriously though, who gives up their little nipper for his wife’s salad, right Liam?”

Liam put a finger to his mouth as if to consider his father’s question carefully. Cyrus kissed the top of Liam’s head softly.

Cyrus had no prior experience with kids and had worried for much of his life that he had no real business having or wanting kids of his own. His father had told him regularly that he himself was a stupid mistake, a desperate drunken accident and that his mother was a ‘right little battler’, so of course Cyrus was hopeless. His mother had a different story, Cyrus was the third in a total of six separate pregnancies throughout her marriage and the only one she’d been able to carry successfully to term. According to her, his survival meant that he was far from a mistake, he was a miracle. Whatever the truth was, Cyrus had matured fast and with little regard for his own life.

Cyrus punched aside the intrusive thoughts and focused more on Rapunzel’s imprisonment in the tower for a couple of years than the tragedy of his own upbringing. He may not know exactly what to do, but he knew exactly what not to do as a father and that primal instinct had been his greatest strength whilst he slowly accepted this new chapter of his own life story.

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair,” Cyrus amused Liam greatly with the croaky high pitched whine of the witch underneath the tower’s only point of entry.

When he reached the crucial turning point in the now fourteen year old Rapunzel’s story, Vivienne leant her sweetest tone to Rapunzel’s sad song, a wholly anachronistic rendition of Demi Lavato’s ‘Lonely’, but it worked.

It caught both Cyrus and the wandering prince off guard. Cyrus had been introduced to Vivienne’s rather sultry singing a lot over the past several weeks. She often sang to the boys and herself and occasionally even Cyrus himself when she was truly happy. There was a seductive undertone as she deliberately held Cyrus’ awestruck gaze for a moment. The twinkle in her eyes as she sang to him was impossible to ignore and he lost his place in the fairytale.

He cleared his throat, returned to the open book as best he could.

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair,” Cyrus was too distracted to think up an appropriate voice for the prince’s cry, so his own distinctive rasp had to do.

Rapunzel had never seen a real man before and Vivienne captured her fear and excitement perfectly in her performance as the perfect little girl. Effortlessly, Cyrus told Vivienne that his heart had been stirred by her singing, and Vivienne told him he was kind and handsome. Easily this was the most relatable part of the tale so far for them both.

The page itself was so swept up in the whirlwind of their unfolding romance that this chapter of the story ended with a marriage proposal, not from just the prince to Rapunzel.

Secured with a pink heart shaped sticky note just under the line where the prince asked for Rapunzel’s hand in marriage was a very real engagement ring. Cyrus’ eyes misted over without even really registering Vivienne’s handwritten formal proposal inked across the paper heart: ‘Marry me, My Prince?’

Any words he had were shackled to the lump in his throat, so Cyrus simply held her gaze for a moment. He nodded slowly, and he was pulled into her by the gravity of their most raw emotions. Their lips crashed against each other as the ocean did so often against the shore and they were swept away by only the most pure and unfiltered and unconditional love either had ever experienced in their lives. The end of this chapter in their story sealed perfectly with the longest, deepest and sweetest kiss of all. The kind of kiss that no fairytale, no matter how fantastical, could ever truly capture.

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Cyrus Daniels wore a black tank top and blue denim jeans as he stood against a white wall. For the first time in his life, he wore definitive proof that he was loved and desired. A silver titanium ring inset with emerald claimed his left ring finger and marked him as a man worthy of somebody’s affection.

Right, which of ya jumbucks pissed off Verona enough ta be put in this match?

Was it just one of you bogans or was it the whole bloody lot?

I know Viv has had a lotta dealin’s with old Bobby lately, but I don’t think even she would ask him ta celebrate our engagement like this. Not that I don’t appreciate it. Beatin’ the piss outta not one, not two, not three but four brothers nobody would even know still worked here if it wasn’t for their much more successful dyke of a baby sister is quite the impromptu engagement gift from the boss himself.

I mean it’s really quite appropriate that Abby is a borderline necrophiliac, ‘cause after this week she can add four more dead little bitches to her shortlist of hopeless charity cases she loves. I mean sure our positions in the Roulette are at stake in this little gauntlet, but that’s a carrot more for your benefit than mine. Bobby’s a jammy bloke, smart enough ta know nobody willingly wants ta have a blue with me.

He had ta sweeten the deal somehow.

He had ta make it worth my time too.

So here we are, the odds against me, just like they have been my whole bloody life.

Four on one ain’t nothin’ new ta me, mates. Back when I was doin’ time, taking on four guys at once was just another Tuesday. The only difference here is that the suits have done me a favour by linin’ the four of ya up nice and neat for me ta knock down one after the other.

It’s funny really, I told Bobby ta make sure that he filled this year’s Roulette with blokes who would give me a real fight and now we find out that you lot are taking up four bloody spots again, just like last year. Also, it’s not gonna mean a bloody thing or make a damn difference, just like last year.

See, when Bobby didn’t appreciate my true worth or respect my true talent as a fighter in this business, rather than settle for being just another body ta plug into a stop gap when he needed it, know what I did?

Cyrus turned his right palm inward, clenched his fist and threw up a “V”, presenting the forks to the camera and flipping off everybody watching.

I told him to go fuck himself.

Cyrus lowered the “V” back into a clenched fist.

He only sees value in your sister and that’s only because she’s rootin’ the most successful spinner in the history of his company. Gotta keep the death clown happy, right?

Cyrus lowered his fist back down to his side, but did not unclench it.

Point is none of you have ever had the nutsack ta really do anythin’ around here. Your whole tribe came in as Abby’s shadow and that’s where you’ve been happy ta stay. You’ve been content ta let faith be your guide and you’ve waited every year for your big break. Well, here it is.

Here I am.

The ultimate faith breaker.

I am the stark reality contrasted against your wildest delusions.

And few are more deluded in this world than His most devout followers.

All of you have played by the rules and stuck to the system, believin’ year on year without fail that your faith will be rewarded in the end. It’s a nice fairytale that only has validity ‘cause it’s been told over thousands of years, but out here in the real world, my world, that’s all it ever will be, a fairytale. A means of control and herdin’ sheep.

I’ve never been the kinda bloke who sits around waitin’ ta be blessed.

If I want somethin’ bad enough outta this life, I man the fuck up an’ take it.

It don’t matter if it belongs ta me or not, I steal it.

I violate every God given commandment simply ‘cause I can.

Most of you zealots are horrified by the injustices that plague this world, I revel in them. I don’t need ta wait until I’m dead and in the ground, my stolen little slice of Heaven on Earth shares my bed every night, whilst the four of ya can do absolutely nothin’ about it.

At least not without violating one of your most sacred laws.

Thou shalt not covet my future wife or somethin’.

Oh what? Ya think I wouldn’t know? Ya really think she wouldn’t tell me why she stopped training with you boys a while back? You creeped her out Bucky, and whilst her last fiancé never cared enough about her ta really do anythin’ about it, her new fiancé is a real man.

I’ve never really needed motivation ta slap the shit outta anyone, but if there’s one of you Bible beaters that I am really gonna enjoy beatin’ ta a bloody mess of piss, shit and vomit, it’s gonna be you, Bucky boy. And the best part is that when I’m done, none of your family can do anythin’ ta stop me or save your worthless hide.

In fact, the only thing Spencer, Jeb and Ricky can really do is wait their turn.

Roberto Verona may well decide when your number’s called.

But only I decide when it’s up.

Whilst seeking Heaven, you found only Hell.

Bonzer!