And She Lives Happily Right Now (An Adult Bedtime Story)

“Goodnight, moon. Goodnight, stars. Goodnight planets, comets and... Mars. Yes, even you, Mars. And not only for the sake of the rhyme.” ― Paul The Astronaut
“Goodnight, moon. Goodnight, stars. Goodnight planets, comets and… Mars. Yes, even you, Mars. And not only for the sake of the rhyme.” ― Paul The Astronaut

I recently started dating a fella that I really happen to dig. While it is true that this new romance initially caused me a bit of insecurity, this was more a reflection of my own perceptions and experiences than of anything he did. And if I am being honest, things are going just about as well as anyone could hope.

Just the other night we lay together in my bed, sleep dangling insolently from the ceiling of my dark bedroom, bouncing continually out of our exasperated, sluggish grasps. I suggested that we read a good old fashioned bedtime story to lull us into the night’s cool, sweet embrace. But my Internet quest for a killer adult bedtime story left me terribly disappointed. I was not interested in a story about space sex nor did I care for any of the fairytale erotica that popped up (get it?).

The fella suggested that I write my own adult bedtime story. And so I did.

And She Lives Happily Right Now 

Once upon a time in a land of sunshine and blue skies, there lived a young Banshee. The Banshee had lived in the town of Revned for all of her days and loved the beauteous land. The Banshee regularly delighted in the land’s flowing rivers of brew and the sticky green weeds that grew widely across its rolling hills. But the Banshee oft felt disenchanted by the constant stream of incomers to the land, the sheer number of which was pure woodness! And yet the Banshee smiled kindly and always bid good morrow to these migrants, thinking perchance the influx could one day bring her a suitable suitor.

The Banshee lived happily in her humble abode, a small room on the twelfth story of a converted castle. The Banshee’s unkempt curls hung nearly long enough to reach the ground from her kitchen window. The Banshee had once dropped a brick on the suitor who tried, without invitation, to scale her tresses.

The Banshee spent her days with Revned’s less fortunate inhabitants. There were travelers in search of bellytimber, wanderers in need of apt living quarters and citizens on quests to find their lucidities. The Banshee did her best to walk alongside these otherwise-banished nomads and felt grateful when able to do so.

The Banshee spent her eves in taverns amongst the company of cherished friends and mirthful jesters. The more the Banshee imbibed, the louder she keaked. But she could not help her Banshee cackle, a wail that had been called infectious, delightful and endearing but also dreadful, insufferable and appalling. Cackle aside, the Banshee exuded countless righteous, worthy and respectable virtues. For this reason, the Banshee often found herself quite pitchkettled about her ghastly dating fortune.

Though for years she had tried with all of her might to find a worthy suitor, the Banshee had not yet met her match. But the Banshee did quite well on her own. When not in the pursuit of communal fairness for drifters or gathered with her companions, the Banshee delighted in literature, moving pictures, photography and authoring tales. Though the Banshee continued to hope that one day a fine gent would materialize, she also felt content, fulfilled and enriched on her own accord.

And then one day a fine gent did indeed appear. The Banshee’s converted castle was undergoing repairs which required that an ironworker repel from the castle’s roof onto the Banshee’s terrace. It would be classic to say the meeting of the ironworker and the Banshee was adoration at first sight. But it was not because life is not a fairytale.

Nearly a year after their initial meeting the Banshee and the ironworker went on a first date. And a second date. And then a third, and a fourth and a fifth date. ­­­­­The ironworker responded readily to the signed and sealed messages delivered by the Banshee. The ironworker made the Banshee laugh. The ironworker was kind and simple, insightful and idiosyncratic. The Banshee and the ironworker enjoyed spending time together.

The Banshee is a bit romantic but the Banshee has been around the shire enough times to know that no tale is truly a happily ever after. This particular tale may end casually. It may end tragically. It may end tomorrow. Mayhap it will not end for a long while. But alas, no matter what happens hither, the Banshee always has herself.

And she lives happily right now.

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