“I did not mean to kill her,” whispered Paul, his voice trembling as he stood over the lifeless body of his wife, Cordelia. Tears welled in his eyes as he realized the irreversible consequences of his momentary lapse in judgment.

It was just like any other evening. Paul and Cordelia had been arguing over finances, which often happened lately, but tonight it escalated beyond control. Harsh words were said that couldn’t be taken back; tempers flared, and the moment she told him she wished he was dead, that’s when he snapped. In a moment of blind rage, he wrapped his hands around her throat tightly and squeezed. Then, it was over as quickly as it happened. Cordelia lay motionless on the floor, her eyes staring into nothingness.

He frantically tried to revive her, but it was too late. She was gone. With trembling hands that were covered in scratches, he dialed 911, his voice shaking and tears streaming down his face as he explained to the dispatcher everything that happened before dropping the phone. The authorities arrived at his house, where he was arrested on the spot. He was now charged with murder, his future changing in the blink of an eye.

Months passed as Paul awaited trial, his thoughts consumed by the images of his wife’s lifeless body on the ground and what he had done. The guilt and remorse showed on his face every day he sat in the courtroom. The trial was a whirlwind of emotions—a parade of witnesses, evidence, and testimonies. Hearing the testimonies of her family members broke his heart. Paul’s defense attorney fought tooth and nail for his freedom. In the end, the jury came back with the verdict: guilty of murder in the first degree. 

As the judge pronounced the sentence, Paul’s heart sank. The judge sentenced him to life in prison without the possibility of parole, condemning him to live with the consequences of his actions. The punishment paled in comparison to the guilt he felt over killing the love of his life, Cordelia, the woman he had known for 25 years but been married to for six.

In the cold confines of his prison, Paul reflected on the events that led to this moment. He never meant to hurt Cordelia, yet anger had clouded his judgment, causing him to make a decision and do something that could never be undone. He wished every day that he could go back in time, make things right, and apologize to her, but it was a futile wish.

Cordelia’s family mourned her loss, their grief mingling with anger towards Paul, who stole her away from them. The family found comfort in each other as they tried to live without her; their lives were shattered. They did not live happily ever after, not by a long shot. Instead, they were left to pick up the pieces of a tragedy that tore their lives apart, forever haunted by the echoes of a love lost forever.

They did not live happily ever after not by a mile.

There was no white fence, not 3.5 of any child exist. There were no smiles, no eyes which glow with joy. Even on Christmas Day, there was no tree with toy.

The princess has no prince, therefore the king had no wife The village had a war, And no one was prepared to fight.

Now you must be thinking how does the main character free themselves from all of this negativity, and it’s quite simple, THEY DON’T

And I know we’ve been taught, if you do everything right we will be victorious! That if we don’t give up and show bravery, we will be successful.

I’m here to warn you, don’t let the stimulation that has been drilled into your head take over.

Don’t mistake your dreams for reality.

Don’t confuse entertainment for an output of your own life.

The truth is many stories … end unhappily.

It was the middle of October when she decided she would go through with it. She wrote her goodbyes and left them on the coffee table for her mother to find, and left enough food for the cat to make it until then. Outside, The sky was dark and the air grew bitter, and she didn’t know where she was going, all she knew at the time was that it had to be “away”.

It was the Middle of October he had decided to run away, and to escape from what others would call a home. 
He left no letters, and had no pets, just a little brother who slept in the room down the hall. 
The sky was peaceful to him, and he didn’t mind the cold. He never knew where he was going, and where he wanted to be, all he wanted was to “get away”

And no, it was never her intention for it to end this way, at the bottom of the Olion bridge only 5 miles from home. And it was never his intention to find her there, 7 miles from his. But then he did.

There she laid, lifeless, distorted and cold to the touch, and there he sat with her, tears streaming from empty eyes.
They had never new each-other before, but the boy had felt a connection, not one where he felt as if he had known her for years, but one where he knew what she had felt for years. 
And he wondered what could have been, if they could have helped with each-others suffering if she had stayed alive. Then, he began to wonder what would happen if he didn’t.
The truth of this story is, they did not live a happily ever after, not by a mile.

Once upon a time. In a fantasy world. A princess was born. Whom everyone adored. She had everything she ever wanted.

A garden in which she would run. She spent her time playing with the sun. The garden was the place she loved most.

Then she fell in love. With a wonderful man. He filled her days with love. They would dance and sing for all to hear. The bells rang with joy and cheer.

But then her love. He disappeared. As she woke up. He faded into nothing.

She was a poor girl. Lost in a dream. Living a troubled life. And she did not live happily ever after. Not by a mile.

“Dearest, that hat does nothing for you. Don’t make a face I’m only trying to help you look better. Speaking of needing help, have you heard about the Perraults? Where have you been under a bridge? I heard from my girl who heard from the butcher’s that the Perrault girl eloped with a nobleman’s son. You know the one? No not Maelle, she makes men run away. No the other one with the face, never wore a decent frock. No, silly, not Hughette she needs more of of a tent than a frock. No the pretty one, Andre’s daughter not Odile’s pair, that one sold Odile’s silver, bought finery, and convinced a wealthy boy she was a damsel in distress. The little scamp has the big house and the servants and everyone wrapped around her finger. I heard Odile is living on pride. She wears paste jewelry, poor dear. No, Odile won’t say a word out of fear. All she can hope for is the jezebel’s kindness and to marry off her girls with no dowrys. No Andre Perrault didn’t have a sou. He lived off his first wife’s inheritance until he snared Odile. Dear, try this one with the lavender ribbon. Every tradesmen knew Andre was lead painted gold. If Odile had used her head instead of her heart she wouldn’t have fallen to the dogs. What’s her name? No not Ella, or Cinda. Anyways I heard Odile is hoping the little hussy throws her a few coins. That Perrault girl is no better than she ought to be, you’re so right. Some people are just not kind. That hat is worse than the first.”

The night they first kissed, it seemed like all of the elements converged as if to bring them together. The stars shone on a moonless night, reflecting off the ocean that hummed in their ears, the crashing waves matching the thudding of their hearts. The heat between them mirrored the blaze of the bonfire where mere feet away their friends were conversing and laughing and carrying on as if the world had not suddenly lurched to a halt when their bodies melted into one another. Never before had Brigid experienced a kiss so cosmic, so sensually organic. She felt she belonged in his arms, as if no harm could touch her heart as long as he held it within his own. It was a beginning worthy of romance novels she hid under her bed in junior high, a fairytale of the likes of her Disney ideals of childhood. Gazing into Sam’s eyes that night, she felt certain that this was true stuff soulmates were made of.

The memory of that night sustained Brigid through the weeks and months that followed. The first time Sam belittled in her front of their friends, she remembered how he slipped her hand into his as they retreated the bonfire, pulling her closer as though it was them against the world. When he stayed out all night with only flimsy excuses about demands at work, her mind flashed to feeling like he saw no one else in the world but her that night. Soon, she began to feel like she was having a long distance relationship with the man Sam used to be, willing tolerating an obnoxious roommate in his place while she awaited his return.

Brigid did not stay frozen in the perfection of that moment, to be sure. She spoke down to Sam, both in private and in public. When she felt taken for granted, she challenged his manhood in ways both overt and obscure. Once when he ignored her at a party and flirted with a freshman in front of her, she locked him out of their bedroom and put in earplugs. He wound up sleeping in the backyard so their roommates wouldn’t know. Because as far as anyone else knew, they were still that couple locked in an embrace in the light of the bonfire, standing under the stars as the waves crashed around their feet.

Children dream of their fairy tale ending - the glass slipper fitting, true love’s kiss, sailing off into the sunset. What we don’t seem to realize is that those endings are actually beginnings, the place where the real story starts. Brigid and Sam had found their fairy tale, and they clung to that beginning long after they no longer recognized it within themselves. The story continued, but it trailed past off into the sunset into the land of unpaid bills, uncooperative children and unmet needs. They stayed together, but they slept with their backs to each other. Once upon a time, they kissed under the stars. They lived an after. They did not live a happily ever after, not by a mile.

It was the most perfect wedding, for the two most perfect people in the entire world. They came from perfect families who had identically perfect ideas of what the future held for their two perfect little spawns, bred in the most perfect little all American town, designed to produce perfect little American families. Josh watched Emily walk down the aisle towards him, just as they’d rehearsed. Her father looked like the picture of confidence and restrained dignity. Did some small look in his eye look like he wanted to murder him for marrying and… doing a few other things to his baby girl? Probably. They hadn’t done anything the rule book would have considered wrong to get to this point. He’d been the quarterback, she was the head cheerleader, so naturally the stars had aligned to doom them to strap metal bands onto their fingers and inexorably link them together. Who even was she? Josh looked at her and wondered who she was beyond those labels. Here he was about to marry her… MARRY HER… that rang with such a fatal finality he could barely stand it. They are two attractive people tying the knot as they were deigned to. And he realized he barely knew her. The vows came before he could even process how he’d gotten here. She eagerly said she did… and he… agreed. Eagerly. Her mouth agreed and her eyes… flickered with a sense of hesitation she was too afraid to indulge. They weren’t even pregnant. That typically brought couples together faster than the average shotgun. Running down the aisle. Waving to people they knew and pretended they knew… sure some of them were friends. They ought to be for condoning this. For an hour or two they floated around his consciousness… bouncing from bar to bar and trying to drown their sorrows in booze… how did this happen? Fairytale endings were for people too afraid to face what inevitably came after the euphoria of a perfect ending. The ending had come. After being sent off by friends and family for hours they found themselves in a luxury hot suite. Together. Just the two of them. ‘Emily?’ ‘Josh’ ‘How did we get here?’ ‘I dunno.’ ‘Should we… give it a try?’ ‘Sure.’ Perfect endings weren’t real. Endings only came with death… so why fast forward to that part? There was so much right and wrong and not and pain to expose experience in between. ‘I mean… you look pretty good.’ ‘You don’t look bad yourself.’ ‘That’s a start right?’ ‘Yeah. Yeah it’s a start.’ ‘What are we starting?’ ‘I don’t really know…’ ‘Oh…’ ‘You… wanna find out?’ ‘… yeah. Why not?’ ‘Why not indeed?’ ‘It could… all end in…’ ‘Yeah yeah. This is America. In the meantime why don’t we just make something out of this?’ The couple wrapped their arms around one anther, as if for the first time like they never had before. They did not live a happily ever after. Not by a mile.’

"I love you."

"I love you too."

That was a mistake. He knew it, but he couldn't help it. The affection was addicting. She was young, beautiful, she didn't know better. She was perfect.

He pushed himself off of her slowly, letting his eyes linger as she lay there just for him. He paused a moment before retrieving her clothes from beside the bed and pushing them into her arms.

"It's time to go." he said.

"Your wife?" she said, a grin on her face.

"Yeah." He replied, pulling his clothes back on.

"You know I'm better than her." She said playfully, dragging her finger up his chest.

He smiled. "You are. but you know I can't." His sorrow was genuine, but he still moved her to the door and ushered her out into the sharp autumn air.

"Text me!" she said with a wave.

"I will!" he replied, closing the door behind her. Once he saw the headlights of her car vanish he went to take his customary shower.

"Who was it this time?" a woman's voice called from the couch as he emerged from the bedroom, a towel still tied around his waist. She was holding his phone in her hand. Her lips were pulled tight into a line, not a frown, but certainly not a smile.

He didn't answer.

"You can't keep doing this, dear. Don't you know how I feel? How much it hurts?" there was a distance in her voice that gave him chills. It was always like this. He knew he should leave, but doing that was easier said than done...

And so he did what he had always done; He told her everything. She was a student at a college not far out of town. She had amber hair cut short but well styled, nothing special, just another girl he loved.

She exhaled and shook her head.

"I am going to stay with a friend for a while. I expect you to make this right before I return!" She stood and left as quickly as she had come. She wouldn't be back for a few days, that would give him time to find someone new. Hopefully this one would last a bit longer.

Did you have a talk with that girl? She said, walking in from the kitchen and laying her hands across his shoulders. They were cold, and she smelled sickly sweet, like she was trying to banish something from her body that she just couldn't wash off. He smiled, but never looked her in the eyes. "Yeah. Everything's fine now." He spared a glance at his phone, the silence was depressing.

"Then I forgive you!" she smiled and sat beside him, resting her head on his shoulder. Even now her clothes faintly smelled of rust. He sighed.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

He was a cheat, and she was a killer. They were the perfect pair... however;

They did not live a happily ever after, not by a mile.

The princess was always known for attracting all the princes she met. She loved to lure them in, then break their hearts. Over and over, princes would warn each other to stay away from her, but the princes were just too intrigued not to try their luck. Every new man was just an opportunity to her—an opportunity to have some fun. Princess Cristina was a beautiful young lady, with deep blue eyes, and the softest light brown hair, which she often would tie into fancy braids. From a very young age, she was a persuasive creature. On her first day at private school, she had made many friends. During that time, her parents (king and queen) were trying to make alliances with a few other kingdoms. Cristina had convinced the children of the other kingdoms that her kingdom, named The Kingdom of Literra, was like a fairy tale land. One full of magic and happiness for everyone. The truth was, that her kingdom was nice, but very poor and small. They needed more allies in order to thrive. Little did Cristina's parents know, that their daughter was practically making those alliances herself.

Over the years, as Cristina grew up, her parents knew she would make a fine addition to the management of their kingdom. As princess of course, she always needed to be prepared for becoming queen. Although her parents were young and healthy, there was always a chance that something could happen to them. At age 15, Cristina was enrolled in a school for high class princesses. Literra had become home to quite a few important royal families, and her parents wanted to make sure that she was prepared to one day rule over them all. At the school, they were taught about the business industry, and how to stay at the top. They were also taught about the rules of being a Queen or King, compared to the rules of remaining a princess, prince, duke, or duchess. Cristina definitely wanted to be Queen one day. Although it might have seemed as if her parents were pressuring her into that position, Cristina cared about nothing if not power.

On Cristina's 16th birthday, her parents gifted her a diamond and jewel-crested crown. It belonged to the eldest daughter of the King and Queen of Literra, and had been gifted to the princess in every generation, on their 16th birthday. That was the day that Cristina became a woman, and a woman had to meet her man. Of course, their kingdom was now very wealthy and large, which made their princess very desirable. Cristina had never wished to marry, but her parents insisted she be married before the eve of her 18th birthday. This thought angered Cristina to the highest extent. How could her parents ever expect her to marry, if they intended for her to be Queen? With a husband, he would likely be positioned as King whether the throne was left to her or not. So, every month for the next 2 years, Cristina would start to see a prince. On the last day of their month together, she would sleep with a different prince. That would upset any current boyfriend too much to stay with her, but not make them hate her enough to get over her. She had practically every prince bowing down to her, begging and praying for her love. She never got back together with any prince, but she would lead them on as long as she could.

On the eve of her 18th birthday, Cristina's parents were extremely anxious. They told her that they wished she had married one of her princes. Cristina told them that she was prepared to be Queen, and that she'd make them proud, without a King leading by her side. They eventually felt reassured, and left her be. Cristina couldn't believe how submissive they'd acted with her. Her parents must've been horrid leaders. How could they be King and Queen of Literra if they were that easily manipulated? "I can't let them destroy my kingdom before I take control. They can't be trusted to run this kingdom the way it should be," She whispered. That night, the King and Queen were murdered. Nobody ever found out how or why, but Cristina became Queen of Literra on the day she turned of legal age; on the day of her 18th birthday. She never married, and she never kept anything consistent. Cristina never wanted to run Literra to the ground, the way her parents surely would have. But the kingdom and its people, they did not live happily ever after, not by a mile.

There was a draft. They were both drafted.

They loved each other, but fate did not quiet love them.

They thought they would make it through.

They thought they would live together.

They thought they would get married.

They fought together in war.

They saw each other for the last time.

They ended on the battlefield.

They became just she.

She went to his fureneral.

She became lonely.

They did not live happily ever after, not by a mile.