Once upon a time, there was a grandmother who was sad. She had been born into a happy Kingdom, not long after a great war that had vanquished evil, and a beautiful young Queen had ascended to the throne. People who were poor, sick or old were cared for and children attended schools where teachers were free to enthuse and inspire them. But these days were over, and the Kingdom had fallen onto hard times.
Of course, there were some unkind and even wicked people in the Kingdom into which the grandmother had been born; even the Queen and her knights were not perfect, because that is the way that people are. But in general, the country was peaceful and cheerful, and when the grandmother was a little girl, laws were created to try to make sure people would be treated fairly, be well looked after and live in peace and friendship with the kingdoms across the sea.
But as the grandmother grew into a young woman, a witch ascended to sit at the Queen’s high table. She cast a spell to change the ‘heart and soul’ of the Kingdom, focusing the people upon money and possessions rather than upon the health and happiness of one another. The services that had been owned by the people were broken up and sold, and rich people began to make money from them.
All of this happened very gradually, so it took a long time for people to notice. A wicked warlock, who was in league with the witch, cast a spell over news and entertainment in the Kingdom to divert the people’s attention from what was happening in their land. Gradually, they became mesmerized by the cavorting of rich, vain and heartless people, and even entered competitions to become the focus of such ‘entertainments.’
As the years went by, the young Queen became a very old Queen, who was sad about the bad behaviour of some of her family. And although, by this time the witch was dead and the wicked warlock was very old, he had moved several of his dark knights into powerful positions in the government of the land, where they spread mistrust and division.
One of the dark knights became the most powerful man in the Kingdom by summoning a boggart to cast a spell over the people to make them believe the kingdoms across the sea had plotted against them. Another took over the children’s education, so they could be programmed to serve money rather than people, and in doing this, he took away most of what made them happy. The dark knights lied to the people, they lied to each other, and they lied to the old Queen, who lived all alone in a high castle. The Kingdom was becoming a lonely, unhappy country.
And then a great plague swept across the world. Many people in the country got sick, and some of them died. The dark knights were thrown into disarray. They asked the healers for help but sent them away when they were implored to refocus on what was best for the people rather than the money.
And so, the Kingdom plunged into a crazy situation where the people were locked up until the healers could cope with the numbers of sick, allowed out when the numbers of sick people reduced, then locked up again when more and more people got sick. Because, the knights said, this was the way they would be able to make the most amount of money.
The healers asked in vain for the knights to tell the people to wear masks, work at home as much as possible and keep a sensible distance from each other, so life could continue on a more even keel. But that was refused because, the knights said, it might interfere with the amount of money they were making.
Then one day, the people found out that while they had been locked up and not allowed to see people they loved even when they were sick and dying, the dark knights had been laughing at them and having parties in their castles, flouting the laws they had enforced on everyone else.
The grandmother’s little grandson knew his grandmother was sad because she had lost people she loved, and one day he said to her ‘that big knight shouldn’t be in charge.’
This surprised the grandmother because she didn’t know her grandson knew anything about the big knight. ‘Why do you think that?’ she asked.
‘Because he’s a liar’ the little boy replied ‘I saw him on TV. I might be only eight but I’m not stupid. Anyone can see that.’
The grandmother looked thoughtful. ‘Yes… he has no clothes.’
The child looked at her with a raised eyebrow. ‘Of course he’s got clothes, uck. But he tells lies, lots of them, big ones. It’s obvious. Duh.’
And so, the grandmother told her friends, who told their friends, who told their friends… and finally the spell was broken. Because the innocent eyes of an eight-year-old child had seen clearly what their stress-befuddled adult eyes could not.
And even if they didn’t live completely happily ever after, at least they weren’t living in a warped fairy tale anymore.
(With acknowledgements and apologies to Hans Christian Anderson)