Once Upon A Nightmare

- SIXTEEN -

- The Book -

Hello, there. I see we have finally met. It's nice to meet you. You must have many questions and I must have many answers for you. Well, let's get the standard thing out of the way.

Q ― What's my name?

A ― Emmet.

Q ― What is my favorite color?

A ― Raven.

Q ― Is that really a color?

A ― Yes.

Q ― What's my favorite food?

A ― Ink. And occasionally the souls of the good.

Q ― Who's my favorite couple?

A ― Aladdin and Jasmine; Gothel and Hadies.

Q ― What?

A ― Well, it is a close tie between Mulan and Shang, Hercules and Meg, and Aladdin and Jasmine.

Q ― No, about the other thing.

A ― That wasn't a question but I know what you mean. I just like how sassy they are. I ship it, what about you?

So, since that flash round is now over, I can finally get to what I really wanted to discuss and tell why you are reading all of this. So, again, Hi, I'm Emmet. I am the "magical object" everyone is talking about. Again, nice to meet you. So you might be thinking "Why is he here? Why do we have to read a book about a book? What is the point of this chapter? I'm going to skip it." and with all honesty, go ahead. I don't mind, why not let you use me to your advantage whenever you would like, seeing so that everyone else does.

Oh, but I must warn you, I am very useful to this portion of the book. The heroes are starting to piece their life back together and the villains have no clue of this. As much as I would love to tell my people, I cannot. "My people? What is he talking about," you ask? Well, I'm a villain, of course. Ooh, I can just hear the gears in your mind whirling.

"But, Emmet, how can you be evil and good?" Well, who the flub said I was good? I sure didn't. Maleficent sure didn't. My friend Hadies didn't. So, who said I was good? No one.

I'm not good. I never have been and never will be. But now, I'm forced to be. I'm forced to write happy, sappy, sweet, children tales. Stupid little stories to help children fall asleep at night. Stories that allowed parents to tell their children that everything is alright. Nothing more than ink on a page just waiting to be rewritten. Or unwritten.

Unwritten. Ha, I got in my 2000's pop music reference. Plus, that will never happen. Not in another eternity of doomed and miserable lifetimes. I was never going to be re-written or unwritten because the one person who could rewrite my story, my life, is dead. And guess who killed him?

Hint: you're reading his chapter. Now, if you said "Me" for your answer you'd be wrong because you didn't do it; I did. I killed my twin brother in cold blood and for that, I have to live with my soul trapped in a book, making up happy, little baby stories for you foolish, hopeless... babies.

"You killed your own brother?" Chill out. Haven't you heard of parents killing their children all the time? And other siblings too? And isn't it your kind that is always at war with itself, killing each other over nothing? Yeah, I'm not the worst of the worst. I simply just got what I deserved. An eye for an eye; a soul for a soul. His souls for mine.

Ah, I could remember ripping out his heart like it was yesterday. Well, it kinda was yesterday because everyday I have to relive that one single moment when I killed my brother, blah blah blah. And to be honest, I would do it again, in a heartbeat.

So, if I am correct, I have established who I am, what I am, and to which side I pledge my allegiance to. What I haven't told you is why I killed my brother or what my motives are once I free myself.

Well, since you are so impatient, I will tell you what I want you to know. I killed my brother for a girl. My girl. My despicably "good" brother stole what little happiness I had. He's the reason I am what I am; the reason I am who I am. My brother killed the love of my life all for nothing.

He pulled her to his side, the side of hidden secrets, and forged this great illusion over her mind. She fell for him in an instant, just like always; just like how the good always won. I work my butt off trying to get her to be even remotely close to me and he, well, he just had to shine his dazzling teeth at her and whisper the same words I once did. We looked exactly the same for book sake!

Ergh! I still can't believe that in a single second, my dear "beloved brother" stole the one thing I loved and cared for. And in a single second, I allowed him to take her. To kill her. To kill me. When she died, I died with her. There was nothing I could do about that. Revenge then consumed me.

He promised a king he would have her drugged and delivered to his feet. He promised the king that all the people in every land would know of her and her kind. The king slashed off her wings, leaving her to bleed and fall all on her own. I remember watching it all happen and feeling her pain as she begged and cried for mercy. I remember the way she looked at me. I remember not doing anything.

I am the reason my dear, beloved little angel had fallen deep into the darkside. I am what created her. If I had never fraternized with her, she would still be herself. She would still be alive. But most importantly, she would still be mine.

I swore from that day on that I would make my brother pay for what he had done to her. For what he had done to us. He had destroyed not my life but hers. He ripped her apart and killed her. So, I ripped his life from him. He's the reason I will never again see my beloved wife.

My wife. Huh, I haven't said those words in quite some time now. I have never been able to admit it to myself. We were never really married but I planned on it. From the moment I laid my eyes on her beautiful soul, I knew I would make her mine. That I would be hers. She was my salvation and now, now she was the only one who could free me from this curse.

The curse she bestowed upon me...