☕️ Alice’s Mad Tea Party Presents: Alice Spills the Tea – Sleeping Beauty
Ah, my sweetlings, have you ever wondered why a mere prick of a spindle could plunge a world into slumber? Pour your tea, lean in, and let me show you the tale as it was first spun - long before fairy godmothers softened it and prince charming strutted in. This is a story of curses, fate, and patience sharper than any blade.
Once upon a time, a king and queen, longing for an heir, finally welcomed a daughter into the world. Joy rang through the castle, bells clanged, and banquets overflowed with delicacies. The king, in his splendor, invited every fairy of the realm to bestow gifts upon the princess - beauty, wit, kindness, and all virtues - but, in a grave oversight, one fairy was forgotten.
Ah yes, the forgotten fairy - resentful, powerful, and sharp as a thorn. On the day of the grand celebration, she appeared, a shadow cutting across the sunlit hall. “You dare forget me?” she hissed. And with a flourish of spite, she cursed the princess: on her fifteenth birthday, she shall prick her finger on a spindle and fall into a sleep from which she shall never wake.
The hall trembled, but another fairy, wise and quick, could not undo the curse. She softened it, however: “No, she will not die. She will sleep, and only the kiss of true love can awaken her.” Ah, my darlings, note the nuance - the original curse was sharp, merciless, and nearly final. The softened version is a later sugar-coating.
The king, terrified for his daughter, ordered every spindle in the kingdom destroyed. Yet fate, as it often does, has a wicked sense of irony. On the princess’s fifteenth birthday, curiosity and destiny intertwined. She discovered an old woman spinning in a forgotten tower - spindle whirling, thread taut - and before she could cry out, her finger met the point, and down she fell. Into slumber, into silence, into a world paused.
The castle, loyal and bewitched, slept alongside her. Walls froze in time, gardens stilled, the wind hushed. Years passed like a slow sigh, and the forest crept closer, reclaiming stone and mortar. Beauty, youth, and life itself hung in perfect suspension.
Enter the prince - not merely wandering, but drawn by tales, rumor, and perhaps fate itself. He penetrated the overgrown wood, cut through thorns sharp as truth, and found the princess, eternal and serene. In some versions, a kiss awakened her. In others, mere presence, a brush of fingers, a recognition of destiny, lifted the spell. And so, the castle stirred, the people awoke, and life - fragile, chaotic, sweet - resumed.
But here’s the morsel, my dears: the original tale, from Giambattista Basile in 1634, is far darker than Disney’s prettified version. The slumber is absolute. Years are lost, time is stolen, and the helplessness of the cursed is brutal. Later tellings by the Brothers Grimm (1812) added the prince, the kiss, and the notion of romance, smoothing edges that were once jagged and sharp.
This story is about more than a princess and a curse. It is fate vs. free will, vigilance vs. negligence, and the quiet, merciless ticking of time. The spindle is not merely a needle - it is destiny’s point, sharp and unavoidable. And the sleeping castle? A meditation on pause, patience, and inevitability.
So, my sweetlings, next time you stumble across an idle spinning wheel, or hear tales of cursed castles and perfect princesses, remember: life is patient, time is cunning, and even the gentlest touch can carry the weight of centuries. And, of course… sip your tea, for some stories are as sharp as the spindle itself.
- Alice, Queen of Ink & Lore
