Confession of a Former Fairy Godmother

By JG Hampton

Fantasia Merriweather, CSW, PhD, MWE (magical worker extraordinaire, a former Fairy Godmother, bares all telling insider information about famous Cinderellas and what they wore to their balls and marriages. Learn secrets and characteristics of famous historical clients by examining her case files. Learn some of their deepest secrets of their glamour and their personality traits. The life of a Fairy Godmother is definitely not all magic, roses, and lemonade. Does she or doesn't she? Only her Fairy Godmother knows for sure. Should fairy godmothers be on the endangered species list? Here's one hardworking fairy godmother blessed with a modicum of common sense, a sense of humor and originality. Enjoy the historical satires while viewing history through rose colored lenses.

• Language: English
• Publisher: JG Hampton
• Release date: May 12, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476425702

JG Hampton

J. G. Hampton is a full time author/illustrator who graduated magna cum laude from the University of Utah as an educator who thanks to recertification requirements has accumulated enough hours for a master’s degree from Utah State University. A survivor of both a wicked mother-in-law and a wicked stepmother who stole her inheritance, she’s trying to live happily ever after despite a few evil spells during her life. Being left handed in a right handed world, she has yet to master Leonardo Da Vinci’s mirror handwriting technique, but she has mastered being a reverse image identical mirror twin who not only survived her birth as the runt of the litter, but the birthing of three daughters and over twenty literary magnum opuses in several genres. While constantly rooting for the underdogs of the world, she looks at crystal goblets and life as being half full rather than half empty. A firm believer that one must create their own magic if one is to enjoy life. She enjoys happy endings in her fiction and nonfiction musings. Enjoy her work on Smashwords

Book preview

Confessions of a Former Fairy Godmother

by

J.G. Hampton

Confessions of a Former Fairy Godmother

Published by J.G.Hampton at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 J.G. Hampton

***

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

***

By J.G. Hampton. This book is fictional. Although some of the characters and events resemble other people and events which occurred historically, the writings and characters in this book happened only in the author’s mind.

Acknowledgements: Thank you for reading this book.

Prologue

Besides Santa Claus, Mrs. Santa Claus, the Easter Rabbit, or the Tooth Fairy, few occupations in life are as unappreciated or undervalued as that of the role of Fairy Godmother. The illustrious profession has indeed become a thankless task catering often to simpering ungrateful females. Is it a sign of the times? Overtime, anxiety and multi-tasking are now part of the job description and have been for centuries for hapless female fairies. Hasn’t the union heard of fourteen hour work days and paid overtime?

Helena, Montana! One is frequently tasked with having to be ingenious as well as stunningly creative, inventive, unique and quick witted; not to mention the demanding necessity of having to keep one’s credentials current in the field of psychology so that one can deal with obstinate females who have more than their fair share of paranoia and quirky ideas. Fads come and go, but sadly many of the characteristics of Cinderellas remain distinctly the same.

Not only are the hours long, arduous and inadequately compensated, they’re fraught with hazards.

The long term side effects of fairy dust, wand whip lash and ethereal smoke are still being studied. And what about all that second hand smoke puffed by underage gal pals purloined cigarettes? The only reason for a fairy to smoke is if she’s been set on fire. Fairies don’t smoke; they’re much too bright for that, but can trendy humans say the same thing? Holy smokes! In fact, many U.S. presidents as well as their first ladies have smoked like chimneys; there is one exception, a former Rhodes’ scholar president who smoked weeds, but never inhaled. Humans have been lighting up since before Walter Raleigh visited Virginia. Now that science has proven that it may lead to lung cancer, the habit has actually increased among humans. Perhaps humans should come with their own warning labels like packages of cigarettes, especially Cinderellas and Cinderfellas. Baby, don’t light my fire!! But then many thrill seeking humans also play Russian roulette, drive without seat belts, bungee jump, eat raw oysters and snow board.

Often I have to ask myself, was my nose really this big before I took the job? Did my ears which once resembled small pink shells always stick out this far? What about my smile; was it always this simulated? Perhaps I should retire or take a long vacation; maybe I’m merely suffering from battle fatigue or posttraumatic stress disorder as a result of centuries of duty.

Readers, let me reveal a secret which may not be apparent: all in the life of a fairy godmother is not magic, rainbows, gossamer fantasies, perfumed aromas and rose petals as most mortals believe; however, a few sweet memories remain etched on my mind as precious ones so occasionally I’m ambivalent about the job as well somewhat curious to meet my next client. However, after centuries of being Johnny on the spot, or in my case, Fantasia on the mark, I’m putting a few words down on paper for curious mortals to peruse in hopes of supplementing my meager income before I run out of steam.

With that in mind, I’m reviewing some of my most memorable clientele with an eye looking towards retirement. You’re wondering why don’t I just wave my magic wand supplying myself with a little golden bonus? Dears, magic doesn’t work that way. I must work within the guidelines set by Mother Nature within certain prescribed boundaries working for Mother Nature rather than against her with little margin for error. I use my magic only for the benefit of others and not as a self serving convenience.

In dealing with humans, I use what the genetic code has dealt out. Einstein asked: Does God play dice? I’ve wondered about that myself whenever I met some particularly hair brained narcissistic vixen or anomaly resembling a platypus. His question remains unanswered, however I’ve found that God has an exceptional sense of humor and fairy godmothers are often the butt of his jokes.

In the past, before plastic surgery and orthodontics, I had to disguise large noses and other uncomely protuberances with hats, artificial hair, false eyelashes, feathers, artistic hair cuts as well as styles, putty, and as a last resort- exotic veils; some disguises, colors, and tricks worked better at hiding or enhancing flaws than others. Some workers in the industry with less conscience than I, flagrantly cheated. One fairy godmother I’m acquainted with always used a little love potion number nine when the personal phenomes of Cinderellas as well as their body chemistry failed. I don’t know how she ever slept at night knowing that the stuff would eventually wear off. Perhaps that’s really why over sixty percent of marriages end in divorce.

Are my musings to be a tell all memoir? I know that one shouldn’t be a cad and kiss and tell; those fairy godmothers who do are often blacklisted forever, but I signed no contracts guarantying my silence. Mortal Kit Killy has made a fortune exposing secrets of some of the rich and famous greats why shouldn’t I? After all, I have catered to some of the most complex, famous, over confident maidens in history. I’m proud of my quality work transforming sows’ ears into silk purses, so to speak. I’ll admit, I’m an obsessive compulsive perfectionist.

Others may see things differently, but here are a few memorable clients as seen from the eyes of a fairy godmother, a species which is becoming rarer every day; maybe one which is faced with extinction like the honey bees and dodos of the world.

I don’t like thinking of myself as a dinosaur but I, too, may be headed for extinction. How will I look stuffed in a museum gathering dust upon the shelf? In that case this album will be priceless, since I understand humans are becoming a paperless society. One wonders what humans will wipe their derrieres with? May I suggest clam shells- they’ve been used in the past by Charles Darwin and others. Enjoy, (my reminiscing that is) Bonheur! Respectfully yours, Fantasia Merriwether, Fairy Godmother, C.S.W., M.S.W., PhD , M.W.E. (Magical Worker

Extraordinaire)My motto has morphed from satisfaction guaranteed into: When you’re happy, I’m happy

Chapter 1

Case # 300 (1890’s near end of Victorian era)

I’m often asked which of my many Cinderellas had the happiest marriage? Well, that is most difficult to answer, since so many variables enter into the formula such as definition of love and degree of love. How can a fairy determine the amount of love in a human relationship? There is no convenient scale like an assayer uses to weigh his gold, or test the pureness of his metal to measure love. Is it forty karat or less or has it been diluted? Is their love hot like molten metal or does it wax and wane from one minute to the next like Goldilock’s porridge?

For instance, one memorable prince engaged to one of my most beautiful charismatic Cinderella’s when asked if he were in love answered: Yes, whatever love means. Was he or was he not in love with his young princess? So you see, Dear Reader, things are not always cut and dried; it’s far easier to discuss which one of my Cinderellas never fell out of love with her prince, and he with her. This I can answer easily; that miraculous feat goes to Princess Alixa of Hassel and her handsome husband Nikita, or should I say, Czar Nikita of all the Russias, Siberia, Ukraine, etc., etc., Background:

Alixa was the granddaughter of Queen Victorine, who was the grandmother of most of the royal houses of Europe and her first cousin, the love of her life, Allen of Saxe Coburg Gotha. This golden haired beauty was the daughter of a Hasel Prince and the queen’s daughter ultra religious Alicia. The royal princess was born in a rather humble castle as far grand castles go. Many vain glorious relatives considered it little more than a hunting lodge, unless they were of German extraction then it was definitely a castle.

The babe was christened Alixa, a derivation of her mother’s name, but she was nicknamed Sunny Delight because of her pleasant nature as well as her fair locks. Tragedy entered her life early when one of her older siblings, darling three year old Franz, fell from an open second story window one morning during a romp. The grief stricken mother watched helplessly while her curly haired child bled to death from internal hemorrhaging a few hours later, never recovering from his death; blaming herself for the heartrending casualty, but accidents happen- even to cautious fairy godmothers.

This accident may or may not have contributed to weakening the mother’s immune system, but severe shock and depressed mental attitudes are now believed to affect one’s ability to fight off infection. Not long afterwards, the mother died from diphtheria having nursed her sick children who suffered from the same illness. There were no vaccines at this time other than a dangerous one for small pox nor were there effective incantations to protect one from this dreaded disease. Swallowing a mixture of herbs did little to ward off the dreaded illness.

Ella, Ilene and her remaining brother Edmund did the best they could to be cheerful, but after all that had happened to the poor girl, Sunny Delight really should have changed her name to Stormy because her smile was seldom seen on her lovely face.

After carefully reviewing hundreds of extended family photographs, I find only one photograph of her smiling: the day her engagement to the love of her life was announced.

Providentially, their Gangun or their often humorless widowed grandmother, Queen Victorine, stepped in to help rear her brother and sisters. Often, they spent their summers or winters in one of her numerous nine drafty castles: Kentington, Brieton Pavillion, Windowsor, Buck Palace, Baltimoral, Sandwatchham, St. Jameson or her favorite one on the Isle of Twilight, etc. I say etcetera, because the queen had other castles which she owned in other lands in her realm which was so vast that the sun never set on her possessions.

It was rumored that beautiful Alixa was her favorite granddaughter, if queens can be guilty of favoring one grandchild over another one, especially when one has so many having been the mother of nine fertile children, all of whom survived to adulthood and reproduced. Even Leonard, her sickly son, whom she worried over constantly, survived to marry and produce fruit.

I was assigned fairy godmother to many of her cousins as well, but I was partial to shy gentle Alixa almost as much as her grandmother. The beautiful child soon spoke smatterings of German, English, Danish, French, Russian, Polish, and Latin, just like her formidable grandmother. Obviously, a superior brain was at work. Reminding me much of Queen Elizabeth the First, one of my former god daughters, who also learned languages easily. Being astute, she was also open minded about magic. Musically, Elizabeth, or Good Queen Bess, also played many instruments including the harpsichord, the virginals, the lute and the flute and was as nimble a dancer as her father Harry. It’s rumored that Henry the beheader, composed my favorite ballad Greensleeves along with a few other catchy songs which were still popular with fairies as well as humans during their dances in ball rooms or in meadows under the light of the full moon.

At a young age, Alixa had mastered the grand piano at Buck Palace playing her scales energetically and flawlessly for her tutors and performing at the request of her grandmother something which mortified her because of her dreadful shyness. In more ways than one, the young nymph made me wonder if any Viking blood actually flowed through her veins? How I wished, I could steal a drop of her blood and do an actual assessment of her DNA determining exactly who were her illustrious antecedents, but that technology was far in the future and at the time would have been cheating. In the future the rules would change.

Mystified, I had to guess as to how much Teutonic, Anglo Saxon, Celtic or Norman blood coursed through her. Hopefully, she hadn’t much Viking blood, that always proved difficult to work with regarding anger management because of their short fuses. I longed to take off her shoes and stockings and carefully examine her feet: had she long slender ones or the short stubby ones of the Normans or the long thin ones of the Anglo Saxons? Or was it the other way around? Dear Reader, that’s why fairy godmothers often gift their goddaughters glass slippers, in an attempt to get a better look at their feet as well as to attract beaus by appearing well shod. But the child was much too prim and proper for that.

However, I noted that she possessed the same blue eyes and gentle nature of her peace loving remarkable grandfather, Al, who designed the crystal pavilion at the world fair as well as two of his fairytale castles, maybe she’d be as stable as he was rather than take after crazy King George who lost the colonies.

Playing matchmaker for her children and grandchildren was something Queen Victorine pursued avidly as if she were playing chess. Many of her numerous male cousins fell for the honey haired intelligent princess during their visits at their granny’s especially the oldest grandson, Wilbur, or Will, heir apparent to the German throne or did he love her sister Ella more? Both resembled each other, but I always thought Alixa the more beautiful and fairylike. Her villainous first cousin was destined to become the Kaiser. Gentle Alixa would have little or nothing to do with the bully because he often didn’t play fair when they played games or was it because he always helped himself to the largest slice of cake which she strongly resented. Besides that, she was put off by the fact that only one of his arms functioned, the other one had been permanently impaired during his difficult birth.

However, to his credit, Will cleverly disguised this disability; one never noticed it unless one was watching carefully which astute Alixa always was. On the sly, he’d have servants cut his food or hide it in his pockets to be eaten later when no one was watching.

Queen Victorine planned a grand alliance for her most beloved grandchild as she moved her like a pawn on the grand chess board of life; she owed it to her dead daughter Alicia. Carefully, the doting granny made certain that Alixa played hide and seek and dress ups or kick the can with her cousin, Prince Teddy, who was destined for the throne. Why not keep all of her wealth and palaces within the extended family and consolidate her riches and her descendants’ strengths rather than split them amongst foreign strangers?

In her opinion, Alixa would make a wonderful queen of Anglia and her abilities would more than offset Teddy’s lack of cunning. Wisely, the old she bear examined the pros and cons of such a move. What about the wealth of the Russian empire? Wouldn’t it be nice to have all that newly discovered oil and natural resources under her large royal thumb? Less favored granddaughters Ella, Ilene, Elena, or Helena could help harvest that golden field; she carefully plotted exactly where she wanted them to end up in the chess board of her mind.

Her beloved Al had always wondered how any civilized woman could survive the Russian winters let alone the boorish manners of the czars. The cold froze one’s marrow and solidified one’s heart and the Russians traditionally burped after consuming their borscht and fish soup showing their deep satisfaction with the meal.

Farting fairies! How uncouth! A fate worse than death awaited one who immigrated to that far off frozen wasteland with its ice-covered harbors and golden onion domes where

a sensitive woman could easily freeze to death emotionally as well as physically in St. Petersburg and Moscow; Alixa must not be sacrificed; she must remain close by since her youngest daughter Beatrix had selfishly gone off and married. One of her loved female descendants must stay nearby to tend her with her rheumatic joints and weather her old age now that her dear husband was no more. Sacrifice was not the old queen’s forte; she’d surrendered enough when he’d died of typhoid in his prime trying to rein in their straying son, the Prince of Wales who’d ignored their wise counsel.

Her gardener the irascible Scot, Mr. Brawn, helped on lonely nights, but occasionally, she’d need the help of a female to read to her and rub liniment into her aching muscles. Alixa loved to read, especially about Science, but she also possessed a keenness for the classics like Shakespeare. Often, she’d found the girl alone tucked with a book under her nose on a tartan cushion at Baltimoral. No, if the aging queen played her cards right, Prince Teddy and Alixa would fall madly in love and her favorite grandchild would become a queen of Anglia.

Flatulent fairies! Dear Reader, all this planning for Alixa by the old queen was in vain. Early on, I’d been assigned to Alixa as her fairy godmother. Taking no chances: I flew. Thousands of miles. On the intercontinental air stream in the rain. In the blizzards. With a broken wing. All the way to Russia where I limped into one of the Romanon twelve palaces in a pair of high heels (one had broken), a daunting task when going to the powder room at fairy headquarters let alone navigating down vast hall ways of a strange one hundred seventy room palace. Working a little of my own magic on the gentle minx who was entering adolescence certainly wouldn’t hurt while she was visiting distant relatives with her father, the King of Hassel. During a trip to attend the wedding of her older sister, Ella (also a fairy goddaughter of mine) who’d converted to Russian Orthodoxy and become betrothed to her gay husband according to Queen Victorine’s plans; I saw to it that she’d be a pawn in my life game, a game I had no intention of losing. My successful career as an ambitious fairy godmother was at stake as was my own reputation and longevity. Only the fittest fairy godmothers survived to spell another day. Being highly competitive by nature, I conjured up an exceptionally strong enchantment.

Sixteen year old recently mustached, Nikita Romanon, really didn’t know what hit him when I flicked