There once lived a very, very angry woman.
She breathed fire upon being asked any old question. She abhorred being beholden to anything she did not expressly accept by her own self. She poked anyone who crossed her path of ire with her pointy, bony finger.
If pushed, she pushed back.
If shouted at, she shouted back.
Her seethe knew no bounds, her hair spread wide like a wildfire.
When she got into a proper snit, heaven help anyone who uttered the slightest breeze to protest. All one could do was to let the storm tire itself out and blow over to reveal the clear blue sky once more.
The Angry Woman had not always been angry. She once used to be a sunny, hapless, Happy Maiden, who smiled at anything and everything.
Children and adults, animals and birds, all came to her for advice and sustenance. They drew upon her again and again, and again – without shame, concern, hesitation or a plan. Their needs arose like the regular old sun every morning and they took from her. The Happy Maiden supplied her demeanour, her energy, her efforts and her diligence – all because she could, and so she would.
But like all good things in life, everything must come to an end. Every river must finish its rippling journey by merging in the endless ocean. The Happy Maiden’s limit arrived with Father Cronos. He came riding in his black cloak, riding his white horse – proclaiming…nah…screaming that Time Was Up.
At first, the Happy Maiden got scared. Why wouldn’t the Moons turn red again? Had she offended them somehow? Did she not look pleasing enough to the skies? Had they forgotten her existence? But then, a flicker of hope spluttered. What if a tiny little mewing colt or cat was cooing inside of her!
The following week was the happiest The Happy Maiden had ever known. She sang, and she knitted. She cooked, and she cleaned. Her every movement turned into a prayer of oceanic gratitude. Everything was going to be alright. The river of life will continue to flow. She will give and give to the Tiny Being. It will depend on her and she will nurture It for life – never letting it out of her sight for a single second.
Alas, the morning of the snow came with a second visit from Father Cronos wearing a red robe. The Maiden broke down crying. No babe. No cooing. No hope.
A knock sounded on the door. Children and adults, animals and birds, they had gathered and were fighting to enter her abode first. The Maiden was glad that her friends had come to cheer her up. But No! They clamored over her and began pecking at her like hungry pigeons.
They took and took. Her ideas, her energy and even her grief was no longer her own. It had been co-opted into the communal consciousness, in the service of the purported greater good.
The Maiden sat still. Children and adults, animals and birds, they still came by unbidden, uninvited. They still took, unasked. The Maiden forgot if she was giving or if she was being looted.
The night arrived and with it, Goddess Heka with her black dogs and a lantern.
“Wake up, Maiden!
There are two paths in front of you. This night is your opportunity to see them both with your own open eyes. You need not commit to one or the other immediately.
You can walk for six hundred and sixty six steps and then see where you reach. Once you see what you need to see, turn your back and come back to this crossroad. I will wait for you.
Then, go to the other fork in the road for another six hundred and sixty six steps and see where you reach. Once you see what you are meant to see, turn back and come back to this crossroad. I will then take you back to the rest of your life and you can decide which path to walk.”
Nobody knows what the Maiden saw and what the Maiden chose. She did not tell anyone because nobody asked her. But, from that day onwards, she became The Angry Woman and deployed Anger as her weapon of choice. Both of her fabled arrows – Silence and Scream, sent the same message through the cosmic telegraph. LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!
The Angry Woman got angry – not just for that moment, not just for herself, not just for that particular incident, but for all the other maidens, all the other times and for all the other things too. She got angry because there wasn’t enough anger in the world to cover it all and she needed to do her bit. She got angry because if she didn’t, the cycle will repeat ad infinitum. She got angry because Heka showed her that if she didn’t, she would walk that particular six hundred and sixty seventh step that she did not want to.
Nobody would give her a medal.
Nobody would like her.
Nobody would love her.
Maybe she will spend all her time all alone in her abode.
At this thought, the Angry Woman stopped growling and smiled. The sun came out and there was peace.
Naina is a corporate robot who writes to protect her sanity from the banality of it all. She currently lives in Sweden with her bratty dog – Cosmo. She writes science fiction, literary fiction and psychological surreal mysteries in both short and long formats. She believes that fairy tales are collective consciousness screaming to be heard, and they should constantly be written anew, to reflect the evolving meaning of human experience.
Published 5/10/26