Once upon a time,in a land far, far away, there lived a king, wise and noble and with a long flowing beard. Just the kind of king who leads a pleasant life with his queen and his three beautiful daughters. He had ruled over the kingdom for quite a few years, and his subjects were very fond of him. In the day, he would listen to his courtiers and his ministers squabble ( for that is what ministers do best), and stiffle the occasional snore when the proceedings got too boring. All these years of experience had given him just the right amount of judgement about the precise time for him to interfere and announce a royal feast. At night, he would sit and play word games with his daughters, and other kind of games with his queen, and all was right with the world.

Some of you might be thinking about how the king managed his finances, and how on earth nobody had poisoned him all these years, or why he hadn’t been involved in a long and bloody war with all his neighbours. I suggest you stop reading right now, and study for your Management Courses.

Ah, well, enough talk about the king. You ought to have figured out by now that the King was a walking target for Something That Happens, and he was too gentle a soul and too weighed down with his crown to actually be involved a Proper Story of this sort. Let us talk about the King’s three daughters. The youngest princess was Princess Lysa, the loveliest and cleverest maiden in the known world. They said that somewhere in the Seventh Kingdom, there was a child born to a farmer that might just be more beautiful than the Princess Lysa by the time she grew up, but that’s beside the point, really. The second princess, whose name was Alysse, inherited her mother’s beauty and father’s knack for inventive politics – everybody knew that she was the only person in the kingdom, other than her father, who could calm down a hall-ful of squabbling nobles without calling for a royal feast, which meant that she was the one the King turned to when there was budget problems.

The eldest daughter was named Sally. She was beautiful and she was talented and she was usually nowhere to be seen. Mostly because she had her nose perpetually buried in a book. Any book. Sally was a bit of an enigma to her parents, and to everyone else, because she didn’t really care for royal affairs, or princessy things such as balls and gowns. The only thing she was interested in was the Royal Library, and the books it contained and the Chief Librarian was often known to remark to his friends about what a sweet and gentle creature Princess Sally was, but because he himself didn’t meet too many people, his opinions went mostly unheard.

We now come to the year when Things Began to Happen. For starters, there were reports of clouds that mysteriously disappeared just as soon as they were seen at the borders of the kingdom. Then a hunter known for his tales of bravado reported seeing a gigantic chicken in the woods that refused to die when he shot his arrows at it. This bit of fanciful storytelling led most of the ladies in his village to ooh and aah wildly, and most of the men to snigger, because they had noticed the rather bewildered look in his face ( not to mention his teeth clattering) when he had rushed into the village pub with the news.

And so it happened that an old woman came to the gates of the royal palace and demanded an audience with the king.

“I am the Wicked Witch of the South”, the old woman began, as soon as the king appeared before her, a tad hastily when the guard reported how the other guard, who had tried to stop the woman, was now a pig sniffing at his own spear. “And I need one of your daughters as my hand-maiden.”

“Ah, that’s so very nice of you”, The king said, “Won’t you sit and have a cup of tea?” He was the best of hosts even when he was half-asleep and in his pink pajamas.

The Wicked Witch ( we shall call her that now, shall we, now that she had introduced herself?), taken a little aback at this hospitality, muttered to herself, and continued, “That would be very nice, thank you, I would like mine with a spot of ginger, please, and very little sugar.” By the time the tea was brought in, the Witch had made her demands very clear. She needed one of the princesses to be with her for seven years. ( Seven being a magical number, she added.) If the king failed to give her any of his daughters, the kingdom would not have any rains for seven years. “The Spell is already in motion”, the Witch added, cackling to herself with glee. “It will remain thus for seven years, in case my handmaiden decides to do something stupid and return home.”

The king had recovered his wits somewhat, because the tea was rather good, and he began pleading with the Witch to change her mind. “My daughters are very dear to me, all of them, and I cannot imagine how I can spend seven years without one of them.”, he said, and the queen, who was listening to both of them from behind the curtain rushed in and began to weep copiously before the old woman. “Take me as your hand-maiden”, she implored, “But spare my daughters.”

But all to no avail, for the Witch would not change her mind.

“Remember, you have seven days to send one of your daughters, or else I will assume the deal’s off.”, she said, with such great finality that the king and queen realised that there was no alternative but to heed her warning. They were good hosts till the end, and insisted on waving goodbye to her from the castle windows as she plodded away towards the South.

The next morning, a rather sleep-deprived and grief-striken king and queen called their three daughters into the throne room, and told them what had happened last night. “I cannot explain how sorry I am to be asking this of you, my darlings.”, the King said. “But I am afraid it’s of no use, one of you will have to go to the Wicked Witch of the South and do her bidding.”

The youngest daughter, Lysa piped up – “Even though I am the youngest, and have not had much experience, I will do anything to save you and the kingdom from disaster, father. I shall go and work for the Witch.”

Alysse the second daughter, equally cheerful and good-hearted, protested at this, “No, dearest sisters and my loving parents, Lysa is much too young to undergo such hardships. I will go in her stead, and I shall be a hard worker for seven years.”

Sally, the eldest daughter, spoke up next. “It’s pretty obvious that Lysa is much too young to deal with the Witch. And you, dear Alysse, are needed in the kingdom, for you are father’s little helper in matters of the court. Besides, this is a fairy tale, and I think with all this reading I’ve been doing, I am more equipped than both of you are when it comes to fairy tales.”

None of them could argue with such hard logic, and as it transpired, Sally packed herself a basketful of apples ( though the head cook did manage to sneak in a packet of lunch into her basket when she wasn’t looking), took her favourite book from the Royal Library ( she did remember to hug the Librarian before she left, and the old man could not stop himself from weeping at the thought of losing his favourite princess for the next seven years) The citizens of the kingdom who had learnt of the king’s dilemma, and the eldest princess’s noble sacrifice, had come out to bid her farewell, and as she left, princess Sally was much emboldened by all the warmth of the people around her. Though she pretended to be brave and matter-of-fact outside, she was indeed a little weepy by the time she had to leave. She had never travelled outside the kingdom all by herself, and she was a little terrified of the outside, much like the rest of us.

As she reached the forest that led to the South, Princess Sally had begun to feel a little better. The sun was bright, and the sight of dragonflies, their wings shimmering in the sunlight cheered her up quite a bit. She laughed aloud to herself a number of times, and then cried a little, but in general, she found quite a lot of things to take in as she walked down the path, old and twisting and narrow. Sometimes she hummed to herself, and then pretended she was on an adventure, like the heroines in all those stories she had read. “No prince to rescue me, though.”, She smiled to herself. “I don’t need one. Who needs princes when you have got books to read and Old Witches to help out?” Which is a rather sensible thing to say, you will agree.

It began to get darker as she went deeper and deeper into the forest. The trees took a menacing air, as if they were angry with her for loitering into their domain, and the princess stopped humming to herself. The forest demanded respect, she felt, and she tried to be as quiet as possible, trying to avoid stepping over the dried leaves and branches that lay on the path.

And suddenly, she heard a strange sound. Probably it was not as strange a sound as she thought it was, but then, any sound you hear in a deserted forest sounds rather strange to you. Her first instinct was to run, but curiousity got the better of her – she remembered that in any half-decent fairy-tale, strange sounds on a path leads to new friends. So she tentatively made her way off the path towards the source of the sound. It turned out to be a dog, who was stuck in a rabbit-hole and was whimpering while struggling to get out. As soon as it saw the princess, the dog stuck his tongue out and panted. Part of it was because the Princess Sally looked quite a dish in her riding hood. “Red is so unbecoming for a journey, m’dear.” The court-dresser had vigorously disagreed with her choice of colour, after her favourite heroine, and had made her a shimmering peach hood, equipped with secret pockets and a handy penknife inside one of those pockets. It was with this penknife that Sally scooped up the earth around the rabbit-hole, making the hole wider so that the dog could get out. And very soon, there he was, free and more than a little bedraggled. After shaking his body vigorously to clear the dust, and tending to his private parts, the dog looked at Sally, who was staring away rather self-consciously, and sighed contentedly. “Ah, it’s been a long time since I did that.” The princess was not really surprised to see the dog talking, she had heard of enchanted animals in the wild, and besides, in her heart of hearts, she had always longed to meet a talking animal. She stared at him, and then realised she was staring at him, and then felt a little embarrassed. “How do you do?”, she asked. “My name is Sally. I am…I used to be a princess, and now I am off to the Wicked Witch of the South to be her handmaiden for seven years.” The dog extended one dusty paw, and said “Hello Sally, pleased to meet you. My name is Caterpillar, but you can call me Cat.” They shook hands, and Cat said “You know what, princess? I dig you a lot. I really liked the way you made some time for me on your way.” ( Sally was a little confused at his words, and was about to point out that it was she who had dug him out, but she refrained from voicing her thoughts.) “You know what? I am not really doing anything for the next seven years, so maybe I can hook up with you, and help you out with the Witch.”

Well, why would the princess refuse such an offer? Off they went, both of them, and I must add that Sally began to feel more cheerful as the two of them walked along. Cat seemed to know which path she ought to take when they came to any crossroads ( and there were quite a few of them to be found) and pretty soon, the princess put her compass away into her pocket ( she had remembered to pack one just before she left) and followed her chirpy fellow-traveller.

By and by, the princess felt hungry, and stopped by the side of the path and opened up her basket on a rock. She took out some of the bread and offered it to Cat. “Naaah, I am not one for city food, let me run over and grab a bite somewhere.”, Cat said. “Well, alright.”, Sally said, as Cat bounded away. “Just don’t get caught in a rabbit hole again!”

It was quite sometime before Sally finished her lunch, because she was in the habit of reading a book as she ate, and like all those who read when they ate, she had the habit of forgetting that for every page turn, there must be a bite at least. By the time she had finished the package marked “Lunch”, Cat was back, and he had something in his mouth. Something green, and squirmy, and evidently distressed, because it was screaming “Let me go! Let me go! You don’t know who I am.” rather loudly, at the top of its voice.It was a frog, and Cat popped it out of his mouth just as he reached Sally’s side, and held it fast with one of his paws, and growled rather testily at the wriggling creature. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to talk when my mouth’s full?” He looked at Sally and said, “Well, I picked up something for the road. Do you mind holding on to it for me? In your basket, I mean.”

“Let me go, please.” The frog squirmed even harder under Cat’s paw. “Oh, I don’t want to be eaten by a large smelly dog.” “Oy, who are you calling smelly? Stop calling me names before the princess.” Cat said.

“Now hold on a moment, Cat.” Sally broke in. She turned to the frog. “You were saying something about us not knowing who you are. Would you care to explain?”

The frog looked at her, and burst into tears. “I CAN’T! Oh, I know it sounds rather stupid, but I really can’t. If I tell you, it would be worse than being eaten up by a dog. Believe me, please, princess. Are you really a princess?”

“I was. Or maybe I am. I don’t know.” Princess Sally was silent for a while, and then she bent down and asked the frog, “Would you like it if I kissed you?” The frog stopped wriggling, and looked up at her with his large round eyes larger and rounder than ever. “You KNOW! But how can you know? It was supposed to be a secret!!!” The princess smiled, and then she sighed. “I am really sorry, frog, but I am not really ready for a relationship just now. I need to work for a Wicked Witch for seven years, you see. ” Cat, who was watching the proceedings with a rather bewildered expression on his face, said, “Hey, if I may butt in, princess, what’s the real deal with this croaker here? Personally, I think he’s trying to sneak a kiss in before he dies, the little pervert.” “Well, no, Cat”, Sally replied. “I know about his condition, and I am afraid I will have to ask you to let him go. Please?” Cat looked a little downcast, and then removed his paw from the frog’s head. “Alright, anything for you. No hard feelings, eh, froggie? Er, do I really smell, or were you just being nasty?” “You have bad breath, I am afraid, and there’s dirt between your paws.”, the frog, a little emboldened by Cat’s gesture, pointed out. “But it’s no use, princess, if you do not kiss me. Sooner or later, I am going to be caught and eaten by some animal or the other.”

“Hmm, hold on, I have an idea.”, Sally said. “Go north, keep going until you reach a kingdom, that’s where I live. My youngest sister Lyssa plays by herself in the palace grounds, and she has a golden ball she loves to play with. What I suggest is…” She proceeded to whisper something in the frog’s ears ( Yes, frogs do have ears, and they quite like it when you whisper to them.) When she was done, the frog had a look of wonder on his face. “Oh my, oh my, you are a genius, princess! I am so happy I could jump to the moon and back again!” He bounced around a bit, and then caught his breath and a few flies, and then turned to the princess. ‘Which witch did you say you were going to work for again?” “The Wicked Witch of the South.” Sally replied. “Oh, her! Maybe I can help you out a bit there. Her name is Baba Yaga, and she’s not really as bad as she looks.” He waved the two travellers goodbye. “Off I go then, princess, dog” ( “The name’s Cat”, Cat murmured, being a little sad to see his near-dinner go off. He loved frogs, especially frogs’ legs.)

The princess and Cat continued on their way. It was afternoon, but the forest made it seem like it was twilight, though the occasional burst of sunlight through the leaves brightened their path every now and then. I believe it was in one such burst that Sally suddenly said “STOP!” rather loudly, making Cat, who was loping along a few steps ahead of her, nearly fall head-over-heels as he came to a halt. “What is it?”, He asked, because there was nothing in the path in front of them, or so he thought. Sally came walking up to him and said, “You would have broken this.” , and pointed to a gorgeous, silken spider’s web that lay on the path. She had seen it glittering in the sunlight, of course. “But it’s just a spider’s web”, Cat pointed out, more than a little surprised. “Well, it might be”, Sally said, “But it’s beautiful, and a lot of hard work went into it. Shall we find another path to go through, Cat, instead of breaking this pretty web?” “Sure, princess,” said Cat, and they walked a bit further into the jungle, took a turn and walked a bit more and soon they were at the other end of the web. As they were about to proceed further, they heard a voice.

“I appreciate this a lot.” It was the spider, of course, the very spider who had spun the web, and had listened to the exchange of words between the two travellers. “Not too much of art appreciation these days. I call this one The Interweb. You see those strands there? That’s supposed to represent connections, the nearly-invisible threads that form our relationships, fragile and yet shining with purpose. You see the way the threads move outwards from the centre? That represents evolution. And that also increases the probability of a fly coming and hitting one of those strands there. We starving artists need to eat too, you know.” He added hastily.

Sally and Cat exchanged glances with each other, the kind of glance that would pass between two individuals who didn’t understand a word of what was just said.

“Well, umm, that’s neat. You seem quite talented, really.” Sally ventured, finally. “Oh, what’s the use?” The spider said, and sighed. “I have been working on this for Anansi-knows-how-long, and every time some stupid hasty twerp would rush down the path and rip my creation apart. It’s inhuman, I tell you. ” He sighed again. “Well, I have been a busy little spider though, and have been working on my other skills. Here, pick any of my legs, and pull.” Sally, who had never really touched a spider and was curious to see how it felt like, grabbed one of the legs, and pulled gently.

“You pick Country!” The spider exclaimed, and began to sing “You ain’t nuthin’ but a hound dog, craaa-hing awl the tahm.”, keeping the rhythm with his legs, a complicated 2/8 measure that complemented the song quite well. Cat and Sally listened to him sing the song, and clapped politely at the end of the strange performance. It was a good song, really, and the spider had a robust voice.

“Well, glad to know you folks appreciate good music. Now for introductions. Who might you people be?” The spider asked. Sally and Cat introduced themselves, and the spider beamed at them. “Ah! Travellers! Adventurers! Do you know what you’re missing in life? Music! I know! I shall accompany you, and you will know why I, Jerusalem, am called the Radio-active Spider in these parts. I will be your companion, your troubador and your friendly neighbourhood spider. What do you say?” “Oh well, I don’t really see a problem with us accompanying you, Jerusalem. But what about the Interweb, your masterpiece?, Sally asked. “Oh, not to worry, princess. I think it was ahead of its time. I might start working on it again sometime later, when I have a little more purpose to my life.”, Jerusalem said.

So they were now three, the princess, the dog and the spider, as they made their way towards the south, into the domain of the Wicked Witch of the South, Baba Yaga. Cat proved to be really helpful in keeping other, more-fearsome animals at bay, while Jerusalem lightened the journey by singing songs all the way, in eight different voices. When a particular style got too boring, all Sally had to do was pull a leg, and he would start singing a different song. It was fun, and a little strange, but then, what’s a little strangeness among friends?

“Cat, Jerusalem, I think we are close where the Witch stays”, Sally told her two companions a couple of hours later. It was nearly dark, but her sharp eyes (Why did she have sharp eyesight? Because she read a lot by candlelight, and also, she ate a lot of carrots.) had spotted peculiar prints on the ground, which vaguely resembled giant chicken claws. She knew about Baba Yaga, having read all about the Witch in old Russian folk tales, and she was aware that she lived in a house that ran on chicken legs. Which presented a great difficulty – how on earth would she manage to reach a house that moved around? She discussed the matter over with her friends, but none of them could offer a solution. “I think I shall get it, sooner or later. There must be something I read that would summon the witch and her moving house.”, Sally told them, and together, the three of them sat down and thought of a way to call Baba Yaga the Witch. They thought and thought for six nights and six days, and as evening of the sixth day came by, Sally grew frantic. If she wasn’t there at the Witch’s doorstep by the end of the day, the spell would begin its work on the kingdom, and there would be no more rain for seven years.

Finally, it was Jerusalem that spoke up. “I vaguely remember this Indian spell that might help us, princess Sally. I do not really know what it does, but somehow it seems to fit.” Sally, at her wit’s end and willing to try anything, said – “Go ahead, Jerusalem, and say the spell. Something’s better than nothing, after all.” “Alright, I shall”, the spider said. “But you will have to pull my third leg, towards the left.” Sally did, and Jerusalem began to chant his spell in a rather sing-song voice. It was like no song that Sally or Cat had ever heard, though they could make out the words here and there.

BABA, that’s what I say, B to the A to the B to the A,
YAGA, I sing and play, Y to the A to the G to the A

The tune was rather catchy, and Sally and Cat caught on, and pretty soon all three of them were chanting the words really loud, keeping the beat and clapping along. And then they heard something rather large moving towards them through the overgrowth. Ther was a couple of crashes, and a little “whump”, and very soon, a hut stood in front of them, a hut that ran on chicken legs. The legs bent, and the door opened, and an old lady came out. You must have guessed by now that it was Baba Yaga, the Wicked Witch of the South. So did princess Sally, and she curtseyed to the Witch, and introduced herself and her two friends. The witch looked at them up and down, and then asked – “Whose idea was it to sing that song?” “We had run out of ideas to find your hut, Lady Baba” ( she was a little uncertain about whether to call the witch “Milady Witch” or “Madame Yaga” and finally settled on “Lady Baba” instead, which had a nice ring to it.). “And my friend Jerusalem remembered this Indian chant and we decided that this would be the best way to call you out.”

“Hmmm. Didn’t it ever occur to you to just call out my name?” The Witch asked. All three of them looked at each other sheepishly, even Jerusalem, though spiders find it very hard to imitate sheep. “All this new-fangled music gives me a headache, actually. Ah, well, what’s done is done. Hop in, and we’ll be on our way.” When they were safely ensconsed inside, and the house began to move, princess Sally gathered up the courage to ask the witch about her work. It was best to plan ahead, after all. “Ah, I just need a helping hand here and there, dearie. You will soon find out, if you have a little patience.” Soon, the house reached a clearing, that had a fence around it, and a little garden inside, and strange white pillars all throughout the garden. They got down from the house, a little wobbly from all the travelling, and Sally asked the Witch another question. “Lady Baba, I had read about you, and I always thought you were the Wicked Witch of the West – I am a little confused about why you are now the Wicked Witch of the South.”

“Ah, too many salesmen in the West, dear. Salesmen and insurance agents and Income tax men – there was one man who even came by asking me to pay property tax, can you imagine?” Baba Yaga replied. “But aren’t there the same problems here as well, Lady Baba?”, Sally asked. “Hmm, there is, dear, but I developed a very efficient spell to transform such pesky dolts into pillars of salt. Oh, that reminds me, could you out into the garden and scrape a bowlful of salt for dinner?”

“Well, that explains the strange white statues in the garden”, Sally told her friends as the three of them went outside to get some salt. “This also explains why Baba Yaga is such a feared witch throughout the land. How can anyone be foolish enough to ask her for property tax, of all things?”

All of them slept uneasily that night. Sally was mssing her sisters and her parents a little, and worried about the kind of tasks she would have to do for Baba Yaga and if it would involve scraping salt everyday, which was kind of icky, the more she thought about it. Cat had disturbing dreams – he dreamt that he was an insurance salesman and that he had come to ask Baba Yaga if she had adequate coverage on her assets, and the Witch had turned him into salt. He woke with a start at night when he tasted something salty in his mouth, but then realised it was just a bit of chicken stuck between his teeth from dinner, and went back to sleep. Jerusalem wondered if the Witch would ever let him sing again, he did not like it when his artistic tendencies were stiffled by The Man, or in this case, The Woman. Baba Yaga slept as soundly as old witches do, snoring and muttering to herself in her sleep.

The next morning, the Witch had her first task for the princess. “I have a garden, as you can see.”, the witch said. “And I grow fruits and vegetables in it. I have a problem with the children around this place, they come tip-toeing into my garden and steal my fruits before I can pick them. Frankly speaking, I am completely out of ideas here. I don’t want to turn them into pillars of salt, either, after all, children will be children. Think of a way to help me stop them from destroying my garden.” Sally, taken a little aback by the fact that the witch wanted someone to think, rather than go out and do some actual work, asked the Witch for a couple of hours to mull the problem over. “Stopping little children from stealing fruits. This sounds more complicated than any problem I’ve read about. Oh dear, I hope I can think of a solution before she loses her patience with me.”, She thought. And thought and thought.

“I have it!”, Sally beamed to the Witch a few hours later. “It’s pretty simple really, if you can help me out with a couple of spells.” “And how do you propose we get to it, princess?” Baba Yaga asked, windering about how quickly Sally had found a solution.

“Well, I read an Eastern fairytale once, and it worked then, so I think it should work now too.” The words poured out, leaving her breathless. “What do children like? Chocolates, of course, and sweets! We can just build a house of chocolates for them, and there you have it, they will forget all about the fruits.” “Why!”, the witch exclaimed, with a twinkle in her eye. “That’s a really good idea. Why didn’t I think of it before?” Off she went, and dug out a dusty book of Spells from under her bed, and sure enough, just a couple of hours later, the chocolate house was all ready, and stood just beside Baba Yaga’s house – it smelt divine, and looked enticing and, when the princess broke off a piece of chocolate crusted doormat and put it in her mouth, tasted better than any chocolate she had ever had in her life.

Very soon, there was a gang of children all over the chocolate house, and the Witch was gratified to see that none of them went near the garden.

“A job well done, Sally.”, Baba Yaga beamed at the princess. “I deduct a year from the services you owe me. Which means you can now go home in six years. Or rather, five years and three hundred and sixty four days.”

Needless to say, Sally continued to excel at the tasks the Witch put before her. I could tell you all about them, but it’s already too late, and I do so want to finish the story before you fall asleep, so here are Sally’s tasks, in brief. She had to think of a way to hold on to the eggs Baba Yaga’s hut lay every full-moon night, and make sure none of them got away, because all these tiny eggs grew up to become Magic Chicken-legged Huts themselves, and the Witch was worried that there would be too many unscrupulous people waiting to make a killing in the real estate business by selling Moving Houses. Then there was the time Sally had to help Baba Yaga to make a man out of a rather cowardly prince – it was she who suggested that the Witch conjure up a dragon that breathes water instead of fire, and have the prince set out to kill it ( Fighting a water breathing dragon is easier than fighting a fire-breathing one, you will admit. You just have to hold your breath, and know how to swim if the dragon breathed too hard.) She also helped the Witch come up with an efficient means of transport to make long journeys shorter – there was a mortar and a pestle lying around, and soon after Sally explained the concept of the Laws of motion, the witch discovered that it was easy to move around in the mortar, using the pestle the same way one uses the oars in a boat.

In other tasks, the princess was helped by her two friends Cat and Jerusalem. Jerusalem figured out a way to make the witch remember complicated spells without having to turn towards her books ( “You just hip and you hop, and you make sure your spell does not stop”, as he put it) by setting them to complicated rhythm patterns he called “simples”. Cat called upon his friend The King of Ants to drive away the pesky children in the chocolate hut, the really greedy ones that refused to leave even after they had had their fill of chocolate, and as a reward they let the Ants stay in the furnace of the chocolate house.

Very soon, princess Sally found out that she had only a year left to stay with Baba Yaga. “You will leave as soon as my son, who has just completed his Wizardry Degree, comes back home. He wants to see the world before he comes back to his mother, the little oaf.”, promised the Witch. The year passed by in a flash, and it was time for the return of Baba Yaga’s son. As the day approached, Sally found herself more than a little worried about how she looked, and whether Baba Yaga’s son would like her dress, and if she could really stop herself from getting caustic with him, the way she was with other boys in her father’s kingdom.

He arrived exactly a year from the day Sally had left her father’s castle. But what was this? He had a long white beard and scraggly white hair, he looked almost as old as his mother. “Johnneeeeeeeeeeee”, Baba Yaga jumped up, as soon as the door opened, and ran into her son’s arms. “You are back! And what have you done with your hair? And did you have to grow this awful beard?”

“Oh, mother, you know how these kingly types are, they refuse to believe that I am a wizard unless I show them the beard. All part of the image, you see. ” He snapped his fingers, and the beard and hair receded, leaving behind a rather handsome young man with dark brown hair, and a blushing Sally, who felt herself getting embarassed as Johnny Yaga looked at her. “And you must be princess Sally, I saw your father just this morning at his palace, he had a problem with the weather – it seems it has been raining continuously all the year.” At this Baba Yaga turned a little pink, and mumbled “I knew I had forgotten something”, and went back to her cooking.

“Oh well, I suppose I must be going now.”, Sally said, turning to the Witch, “It’s been a year already, and you promised you would let me go.” Though, in her defence, I might add that she did not really look all that eager to leave.

“Stay on for a couple of days, Sally, ” Johnny laughed and said. “Let us sit and talk, and know each other a little better. It’s been quite a while since I’ve met someone this charming, and considering what my mother has been telling me, so very quick-witted.”

At this Sally blushed even more, and she agreed to stay.

You know what happened, don’t you? Sally and Johnny talked and laughed and talked some more and laughed some more and listened to Jerusalem singing into the night, and pretty soon ( in four days, actually) they found out that they really liked being with each other. They eventually went back to Sally’s kingdom, where Johnny Yaga asked the king for her hand, to which the king readily agreed, having concluded that all his weatherly troubles would also be taken care of by his new son-in-law, along with his eldest daughter. Princess Lysa had of course ended up marrying a prince she met in a swamp, a prince who had hidden her ball and refused to hand it over until he got a kiss from her. Princess Alysse had been in love with the son of the king’s Prime Minister, and both of them had already taken over most of the duties of the state. Sally and Johnny were married, and they agreed to come back and stay along with Johnny’s mother, Baba Yaga, the Wicked Witch who, if you haven’t realised already, was not as wicked as everyone thought. They used one of the eggs from the magic hut to create a house for the newlyweds, and Baba Yaga conjured up a spiffy boudoir in the hut, much against Johnny’s protestations ( “Maaaaaaa”, he said, “I could have done it myself.”) Cat and Jerusalem stayed on with them, of course, they were too fond of the princess and the witch and even Johnny to leave them.

Ah, well, I would like to tell you that they lived happily ever after, like they do in all fairy-tales, but Princess Sally forbade me from saying so. “Life is not really a fairy-tale”, She tells me from time to time, when I go to meet her. “It has its ups and downs, and I can cope quite well with that, thank you. So I would appreciate it if you don’t say “happily ever after”. Just say “as happily as a family can get” “.

Well, all right. They lived together ever after, as happily as a family can get.

Afterword: If you have reached this far, great! How was it?

The concept of a self-aware character in a fairy-tale is not really new, I remember reading at least one story that way. This one, of course, is entirely mine. Kindly excuse the typos, and the repetitive sentence structure in parts, I wrote them in white-heat and didn’t really have time to review it. Maybe I will, sometime later.

Written in white-heat on a Monday morning, following a narration on a Sunday afternoon. Obviously, changes exist between the spoken and the written version, but I think Jerusalem The Radioactive Spider was a better character than the snake I thought about.