“Never speak to me again!” “Gladly!” I walked away,somewhat perturbed by the whole interchange. I remembered it vividly; it kept playing over in my head. All I had asked was if she’d married her boyfriend yet. It was a harmless question, I thought. Just small talk. I soon learned I ‘d offended her; she actually thought I was judging her lifestyle. I didn’t care about her personal life; it was a casual question without an agenda. But now she decided I had gone too far. I guess I was off the hook for apologizing; it would be equally as offensive. So this was the end of an acquaintance. We were never best of friends. This was an annoying situation, just to leave things in the air like this.

For years and years they had lived pressed on those pages. And when I say flat, I mean just that—-2-dimensional. Now, you might expect a 2-dimensional life would be flat and boring. But not so for those two, well until just now. They were two brothers who looked exactly alike, spoken of many of times, even in reference number: Roud Folk Song Index number of nineteenthousanadeighthundred. They were the ten-thousandth flight of fancy that swirled in Lewis Caroll’s head. They have been etched in cartoon ink. They have become the title of a Singing Star’s opening song. So famous, so infamous! I’m sure in your nursery you must have heard the rhyme at least a hundred times:

Tweedledum and Tweedledee Agreed to have a battle; For Tweedledum said Tweedledee Had spoiled his nice new rattle. Just then flew down a monstrous crow, As black as a tar-barrel; Which frightened both the heroes so, They quite forgot their quarrel.

So, that was just it. Being rotund in knee high tight fitting overall britches and itchy woolly socks, always looking at your brother and his ever twirling propeller beanie can make one go quite mad. I mean both meanings of mad—-irate and insane. Something changed, a ripple ruffled the universal wave. In an instant all of those stories were changed. Both brothers had had enough. They didn’t agree to have a battle, instead they fought disagreeingly. Something they had never done in all their flat lives—-in books, film, or song.

Tweedledum said Tweedledee had done him wrong by never leaving him alone. Tweedledee countered he was sick of it all, he wished his brother would take a great fall just like Humpty Dumpty. Tweedledum jabbed back and said his brother smelled like the Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe. Tweedledee, aghast, fired back that Tweedledum was as mad as the Cow Who Jumped Over the Moon. The argument went on. Tweedledum took a deep cut and told his twin that The Queen of Hearts should have lopped off his head. Tweedledee raised his hands and softly touched his neck. The bile and gall began to rise from deep inside him and in a roar that echoed through all those pages, film cells and nurseries where there was at that moment the singing of rhymes—-a hissing echo seared the air: at least I don’t have Jabberwocky breath!

Their story had changed, no monstrous crow as black as a tar-barrel alighted on the ground in front of them. It remained high in the branches, shaking in dread. That last line had to be changed from “They quite forgot their quarrel” to “Tweedledum and Tweedledee in a hissy-fit-tantrum with two well-aimed bullets shot each other dead through the head”. In the Roud Folk Song Index number the nineteenthousandandeighthundreth song was expunged. In Mount Cemetery in Guildford, UK, L.C.’s skull cracked as that echo of the brothers swirled in that long empty space. Cartoons where they appeared paled in color, but one thing remained Bob Dylan kept singing his song. Maybe you’ve heard that one, outside of the nursery!

Dum-ditty-dee, I’ll kill thee! Dum and Dee are no longer among the flat 2-D living. There’s nothing left to tweedle here!

The last phrases we had were FUCK YOU to each other, exactly how it sounds is exactly how we said it, and I haven’t spoken to Fatima since. She did some things to me that I never thought she would, since then my heart hasn’t been beating properly. It’s an unbearable pain that has left a wound in my heart that I’m afraid may not heal. Before I get to the story of what happened between us here’s a little background of what I thought was an unbreakable bond. The scariest part is that I lost another person through all of this as well.

Fatima and I are cousins but also good friends, soul sisters. I never thought that I would find a friend like her. It all started in the 7th grade, believe it or not, I didn’t like her at first she just did too much for me but once we spoke, we hit it off and have been friends ever since. We went on double dates, lived with each other once upon a time, wore each other clothes, and even got matching tattoos. She was the yin to my yang and vice versa everyone knew about us. We even decided that we were going to go to the same college, our plans were to get married around the same time and just live out our lives together as family/friends our story isn’t like everyone else’s to your surprise, we didn’t grow up together. We had just met in the 7th grade.

An email is what got us here. A week before my birthday I received an email from a stranger that attended the same high school that we went to that said that Fatima had slept with my father. Here’s what that email said:

Subject title: I’m sorry I had to be the one to tell you this.

“ Hi, Marie my name is Eboni. I know this is odd and you are probably wondering how did I get your email address, I’ll explain that to you later at the end. I’m sorry I had to be the one to tell you this especially because you have no idea who I am and I know I might be in the wrong for this but it keeps me up all night and slows my day down. It kills me inside to know that this is being kept a secret from you. No one deserves this kind of news.”

My heart at this point is racing. I have no more patients in me and I’m just ready to get to whatever this is about. The email continues.

“ Fatima, me and some friends went out last weekend. We went to a bar and then a party where we met up with more friends, we were all sitting around you know doing the usual. The drinks started to flow but not a lot to where people started acting crazy but just enough. Fatima comes out and says “ I just had the best sex with this guy and I can’t stop thinking about it even tho it’s wrong”. I asked why was it wrong and she counties to say that it was wrong because it was her best friend's dad and that she didn’t know about it. She continues to say explicit things about your father in ways only a wife would about her husband. She knew what his body looked like head to toe, knew what he smelled like and where his birthmark was. The following Monday I went back to an assignment that I had done in the 12th grade that I had kept for all these years it had your email on it like everyone else’s and that’s how I was able to write you this. Anyways, I’m sorry! I wish you the best in whatever decision that you make with her and your father moving forward.

P.S Eboni

I dropped my phone and fell to my knees, what Eboni didn’t know that Fatima did was that my mother just died from cancer only 1 week before. How could she do this to me? How could my father do this to me, to my mother, to our family?. Everything that Eboni said in that email was completely true she gave me more than enough reasons to trust her as a stranger. The things that Fatima said about my father were weird because only a person that has been sexual with him would know where his birthmark is. My mom and dad were playful and she would always make jokes about his birthmark on his butt. I and my siblings would always run away when we heard them. I dropped my phone so hard that I broke it, I just cried I cried for days, days turned into weeks until I dared to say something. I told my father exactly how I felt and left the house, far as Fatima when I brought it up to her of course she denied it and got mad. We had words as I mentioned at the beginning and that was the end of it. At this point I lost everybody that I had, I was at a loss of words I don’t understand, I don’t understand anything anymore. My mom is gone and my best friend and dad betrayed me.

This might be the lowest point of my life and yet I have no idea how to move on or forward from here. It’s like a bad dream I’m patiently waiting to be over but reality comes and I know it’s true and not a dream. The pain will be here forever. Once I realized that this was real and it was happening, I packed my bags and made a promise to myself, a promise that left me not in peace but pieces.

The moral of the story is your family will be the ones to hurt you first and a stranger will be the ones to help you.

P.S. A piece left.

Amara straightened her crown and stared at herself in the mirror. If she was going to do this, she’d have to put her brave face on.

“Alright, Mara. You... can do this, right?” She whispered to her reflection. “Of course you can do this...”

A servant knocked on the door and opened it cautiously. “M’lady? She’s arrived.”

Amara turned to face him. Over the last few years she’d started to think of Boris as a friend. But today even he couldn’t help her with what she was about to do.

“Thank you, Boris. Can you ready the welcoming procession, please?”

“Of course, m’lady.” Boris gave a slight bow and exited.

Being alone again aroused a sickening feeling to churn in Amara’s system. She clutched her stomach tightly.

“Ten minutes and it will all be over,” she reminded herself, trying to ignore the way her heart was pounding. “Ten minutes. I face the crowd, I say it. And I leave. And... she can’t hurt me.”

Amara bit her lip, squared her shoulders and sauntered out of her room.

The castle halls were a bustle of activity, although strangely quiet. Boris was sternly directing a few other servants to stand guard the castle entrance, their expressions dark. Meanwhile, the maids were fluffing cushions and straightening portraits, tight smiles plastered on their faces. Every one of them made it a point to avoid her gaze.

She turned to look at a young boy, who hung on a chandelier, wiping it clean. His face looked grim as he worked. And as she rounded the corner, a tall server carried a tray of something whipped by her without so much as a glance.

Amara had ordered everything to be as close to perfection as possible for the arrival, but she knew what they all were thinking. Boris was the only one who was on her side. Well, let it be that way, she thought angrily as she nearly collided with a scurrying maid. I’m the queen of this kingdom. And I... I know what’s best for us.

Right?

Boris hurried to her side. “M’lady. I recommend I accompany you to the Grand Hall.”

“Why?”

“It seems... the other queen has brought friends of her own.”

Amara didn’t need to ask to know what that meant. “Right. But... you’re sure you’ll be alright?”

Boris was kindhearted, but really quite scrawny. If it came down to it...

“I can handle them, M’lady,” he said firmly. “You forget that I graduated from a military academy at High Bend. You’re safe with me.”

If it was possible, her muscles tended even more.

When they finally entered the Grand Hall, Amara saw her. The Queen of Redrose Kingdom. Sitting in the center of the room with raven hair, pale blue eyes, dark red lips and an emotionless face.

At one time, those eyes had made Amara giggle with a childish glee, had made her feel warm and loved and safe, had made her want to fall soundly asleep the arms of her best friend.

Not anymore.

A surge of anger flared up inside Amara. But she calmed the flames, mostly because two giant, burly guards sat on either side of the other Queen, swords in hand. And the Queen’s eyes had turned from the beautiful sky blue they once were to pure ice. Her stare was cold and unforgiving, her arms crossed across her chest. Like she was daring someone to challenge her.

Amara gulped.

Boris helped guide her to the raised platform in the center of the Hall, where the roll of parchment was waiting for her.

As soon as he left her side, the sickening feeling returned.

She avoided the gaze of both the other Queen and her own guards, who were standing at the back of the hall. The tension in the room was palpable as she cleared her throat.

“Ladies and gentlemen. Subject of the Whiterose— and neighboring— kingdoms.”

She swallowed but her throat felt like ash.

“I come before you today to deliver a solemn proclamation. Today I come to announce that the Whiterose Kingdom...”

She willed herself not to puke as she locked eyes with the other Queen for one horrible moment.

A painful image of two girls dancing happily in a meadow flashed before her eyes.

Not anymore.

“... is declaring war on the Redrose Kingdom as of midnight tonight. Thank you.”

Wiping her face of tears, she hid behind Boris as they sprinted together out of the hall.

It was erupting into chaos.

I’ve found that as people get older… they change.

Sometimes it’s for the better. People get more mature, more reliable, more responsible.

Sometimes, not. They get more reckless. More careless. Less innocent. More bitter.

And like people change, friendship does as well. What bonds you together could change, or you’re not together anymore. The character traits that made you so close either expand or diminish, and sometimes friends that you’ve had since you were young, or you thought you would have forever, you just can’t stand each other anymore.

Sometimes, you just slowly drift apart. Other times, it can get ugly.

If you get through these clashes, you’re likely to have a friend for life. If you don’t… well, you can always make new friends.

It might never be the same, though.

And that’s whats happened with Lizzy and I. She got hungry for power and everything she didn’t have.

We’ve been friends since we were little. Two kids from two very different backgrounds becoming completely inseparable, the talk of the newspapers.

Especially when one was the princess who was heir to the throne and one had not a semblance of a line to nobility.

Looking back, Lizzy’s always been a sort of glass half empty person. I called her a pessimist, she said she was practical.

Few years passed; Lizzy became more bitter and I became more busy which just made her more bitter.

We kind of swayed apart. I remember how sad this made me. After all, Lizzy was my only friend.

A few years after I took the throne, I heard the news. My once best friend——turned to the darkness.

Her power grew, she fed on dark magic, and caused havoc and pain everywhere. They started calling her ‘The Evil Queen’.

I watched her as her love dissolved into nothingness, her wit turned to desperation, and her heart turned to stone.

I watched as the Lizzy I knew for so long disappeared.

And she’s finally been caught.

“Your Majesty,” a voice startles me and I look up.

“Is it time?” My voice wavers.

The servant nods. A lump rises in my throat.

It’s time to face Lizzy… no, she’s not my Lizzy anymore. I have to face Alyssa.

Everything passes in a blur. Me, getting on my feet, starting to walk through the palace halls, entering the execution room.

I see Alyssa’s chains, I see the executioner bring the knife, I see the blackness when I squeeze my eyes shut.

I can’t bare to look as they kill her.

During their time in the forest, Clank learnt a lot from the forest folk. Robyn had been particular helpful with her by teaching Clank how to dash. Clank lost the weight she had gained during her captivity at colosseum. She was training everyday , practising her aim with a bow and although she didn’t like the implications of hurting anyone by dashing at them with a weapon. She found it a useful skill to have nonetheless. A Druid recognised her kind heart and offered an enlightenment towards the healing spirit.

Mega on the other hand became frustrated at their situation. He grew bored of the forest and its tree hugging caretakers. He had an urge to smash. It was like it was written in his code. His two huge mace-like fists thirsted for action. He had helped Clank out of bad situations a few times and yet he felt that her determination in learning took priority over their friendship. He didn’t understand why they were still here. If they were being hunted, there was no sign of it.

“I want to leave.” Mega spoke plainly and bluntly.

“But why? We spoke about this. We have no where to go back in the city.” Clank spoke with defiance.

“There’s nothing for me here.” Mega did try to learn a few things but he felt his body was not programmed in that way

“I’m here. I’m learning so that I can pull my own weight. So that you don’t have to defend me all the time.” Clank persisted.

“But that is what gave me purpose. Right now, I feel like a rock in the river. The water is rushing right past me and ignoring me. I really can’t stand this.” Mega stomps away.

Clank watched her friend stomp. She wondered where he would go.

Shut the fuck up. Those 4 words dwelling in her mind, her friend had said those words to her even tho she didn’t swear. Her friend not even knowing that she was upset kept texting her phone, unaware about being blocked from it. Later that week she went to her friends house deciding one last time is they should still be friends. They did a couple of things they usually did together and she decided that she was just not happy. When she got home she decide to unblock her friend for one day to shoot her a text saying that they could not be friends they had an argument about why her friend thought they would not be friends anymore but the girl knew the real reason why they weren’t friends anymore. And even tho she knew life would be different and maybe even scary without her she was hopeful that she could find a new friend, that would treat her right.

Look what you made me do, I am hanging out with somebody new and I am dancing with a stranger. Look what you made me do, you made me do, Oh look at me, I am dancing with a stranger. Dancing with a stranger, I am dancing with a stranger. We’re dancing, dancing, I’m dancing with a stranger. And yet, I sadly cannot seem to forget about you.

12th February 2021

There was nothing that we didn’t do together. Me and my human, it was always us. I was so proud of my owner and he was so proud of me and together we strutted the streets each day, putting the other dogs to shame. We did tricks together, we ate together, we’d watch TV together, I’d curl up next to my human at night. Everything was fine and full of love.

Then one day, we were practising a trick where I had to roll over and high five them. We both agreed it looked really cool in the video and wanted to give it a go. We began at eleven and finished at four in the afternoon since I would always work hard to make my owner proud but then the unspeakable happened. He forgot to give me a treat at the end. That’s right no treat! I’ve thought long and hard about this and concluded that I can’t forgive this because they always give me treats how could they forget when it was so engrained in their minds? Do they not love me as much anymore? Did I do the trick wrong? I don’t understand. But either way, for now I am not talking to him, every time he wants a cuddle or a walk I’ll show him my tail and walk away. Because for now, I can’t forgive that dreaded dreaded mistake.

We met at pre-school, in the same classes at infant school, Best friends at junior school, Then silent at secondary school.

We went our separate ways, No more playing on sunny days, Then a random message that says: “What’s new, stranger?”