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I like what I've got, but it still feels half-baked, so suggestions would be much appreciated.
Into the Woods
Summary: A lie is a kind of myth, and a myth is a kind of truth.
Clark Kent is an alien. Lex Luthor is a monster.
Clark Kent is an alien, and Lex Luthor is a monster.
And Lana Lang –
Is she a footnote? Is she a fulcrum?
Clark was too gentle in his love-making, and Lex too hard in his fucking. She needs the third, the just right, the baby bear –
No, sorry, wrong story.
Try again.
“Go where you like in the castle, but there is one door you must never open,” Lex says as he hands her the keys.
Lana won’t. She knows that’s not her fairytale. She’s not destined to hang like a discarded coat from a stone wall.
“Let down your hair,” Clark says, but the only witch Lana knows is in Metropolis, gone like everyone goes, and she only went to the top of the tower to watch the sunset with Clark; she’s not trapped there.
Clark sees that she is a princess, and Lex sees that she is a woman, and no one sees that she is both, atop a glass hill up which no knight can ride.
Not quite right.
Rewind.
“Apple?” Clark offers. Lana takes small, neat bites. The forbidden fruit won’t catch in her throat, won’t send her into a coma. It’s unnecessary, since she already feels like she’s in a transparent coffin. Break glass in case of emergency -- but no one ever does.
“You don’t need to do that; we have servants for that,” Lex says, and takes the ripped shirt and the sewing kit away from her. But Lana has already been pricked, already bled, and no forest of brambles has risen around her and her eyes are wide open.
Coffee beans aren’t magic beans, and she didn’t have to trade any possessions to get the Talon. What Lex took later, he took without payment and she gave without bargaining. And she’s certainly no giant-killer, nor does she desire to bring anything else crashing down from the sky.
Not here.
Maybe in the next book of fairies. Green? Red? Blue? We have all kinds.
“My father says I’m the rightful ruler of these lands,” Clark says. That’s a new one – new worlds, new legends. Lana has no bloodline to match, to join in peace two tribes that would otherwise make war.
Clark, she knows, was not confessing to her. But she was in the room and he wasn’t, she was in Clark’s bed and he –
Never mind. This is a story for children.
“I don’t love you,” Lex says. But Lana never lived under the sea and she still has her voice, little good that it does her.
She still has her ears, and she knows that the townsfolk can’t understand why she’d move from the White Prince to the Black. They blame sophistication and money, and ultimately they blame her for being tempted. But it’s all mixed up: Clark’s the one with the apples, and Lex would never crawl on his belly. Clark’s the one who grows green scales when the hard little messengers from Heaven are nearby.
No, just move along, nothing to see here.
Lana’s story is written somewhere.
But not in Smallville. Lex and Clark will go elsewhere, but they’ll never really leave, and that’s all right. Lana will fill chests with gold and steal away while they rage across the skies like gods. Let them have their epic. Let Chloe be their bard.
Lana doesn’t have a story to tell.
She’s going to be one.
Summary taken from Daniel Handler, Watch Your Mouth, who may have gotten it from Cyrano de Bergerac.
Into the Woods
Summary: A lie is a kind of myth, and a myth is a kind of truth.
Clark Kent is an alien. Lex Luthor is a monster.
Clark Kent is an alien, and Lex Luthor is a monster.
And Lana Lang –
Is she a footnote? Is she a fulcrum?
Clark was too gentle in his love-making, and Lex too hard in his fucking. She needs the third, the just right, the baby bear –
No, sorry, wrong story.
Try again.
“Go where you like in the castle, but there is one door you must never open,” Lex says as he hands her the keys.
Lana won’t. She knows that’s not her fairytale. She’s not destined to hang like a discarded coat from a stone wall.
“Let down your hair,” Clark says, but the only witch Lana knows is in Metropolis, gone like everyone goes, and she only went to the top of the tower to watch the sunset with Clark; she’s not trapped there.
Clark sees that she is a princess, and Lex sees that she is a woman, and no one sees that she is both, atop a glass hill up which no knight can ride.
Not quite right.
Rewind.
“Apple?” Clark offers. Lana takes small, neat bites. The forbidden fruit won’t catch in her throat, won’t send her into a coma. It’s unnecessary, since she already feels like she’s in a transparent coffin. Break glass in case of emergency -- but no one ever does.
“You don’t need to do that; we have servants for that,” Lex says, and takes the ripped shirt and the sewing kit away from her. But Lana has already been pricked, already bled, and no forest of brambles has risen around her and her eyes are wide open.
Coffee beans aren’t magic beans, and she didn’t have to trade any possessions to get the Talon. What Lex took later, he took without payment and she gave without bargaining. And she’s certainly no giant-killer, nor does she desire to bring anything else crashing down from the sky.
Not here.
Maybe in the next book of fairies. Green? Red? Blue? We have all kinds.
“My father says I’m the rightful ruler of these lands,” Clark says. That’s a new one – new worlds, new legends. Lana has no bloodline to match, to join in peace two tribes that would otherwise make war.
Clark, she knows, was not confessing to her. But she was in the room and he wasn’t, she was in Clark’s bed and he –
Never mind. This is a story for children.
“I don’t love you,” Lex says. But Lana never lived under the sea and she still has her voice, little good that it does her.
She still has her ears, and she knows that the townsfolk can’t understand why she’d move from the White Prince to the Black. They blame sophistication and money, and ultimately they blame her for being tempted. But it’s all mixed up: Clark’s the one with the apples, and Lex would never crawl on his belly. Clark’s the one who grows green scales when the hard little messengers from Heaven are nearby.
No, just move along, nothing to see here.
Lana’s story is written somewhere.
But not in Smallville. Lex and Clark will go elsewhere, but they’ll never really leave, and that’s all right. Lana will fill chests with gold and steal away while they rage across the skies like gods. Let them have their epic. Let Chloe be their bard.
Lana doesn’t have a story to tell.
She’s going to be one.
Summary taken from Daniel Handler, Watch Your Mouth, who may have gotten it from Cyrano de Bergerac.
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From:
Thoughts: unhelpful
I'm curious, Rivka, about those last lines:
"Lana doesn’t have a story to tell.
She’s going to be one."
Do you mean this to be ambiguous? Is this a reflection of your interpretation of Lana's true character, or is it evidence of her own self-delusion? If it's the former, it's an unusual (to say the least) view of a very passive character. The piece is written with a cold, dreamy tone, which portrays Lana as a girl so used to being watched, to being the reason for other peoples actions but never the actor herself, that any determination to forge a blazing trail for herself just doesn’t ring true. If it’s the latter, then it’s quite chilling, knowing that Lana’s canonical (and probable) future is in obscurity. Her story will not be told. Of course, the clever overarching message – that you are telling her story here, that this is all her epic will be, that her time in the spotlight will be short and limited to a small town high school – is the third possible interpretation, and it’s the one I like best.
I think I’ll keep it in my head that it’s a combination of all three, and none of the above. It’s an interesting piece, but I don’t know what’s missing, if anything. There are a whole lot more fairy tales out there you could co-opt into the story, but I can’t see where it needs them. It’s not a solid tale, tied down and definite. It’s ephemeral and wistful, with an ominous feel. If this is the atmosphere you were aiming to evoke, then you’ve succeeded with it.
From:
Re: Thoughts: unhelpful
In my mind, it's mostly the second interpretation. But, relatedly, I think "not having a story to tell" is a passive position, which comes from my very writerly mindset. Lana doesn't want to change the world, just to be a story -- which means she'll be stuck in some book somewhere, one of a hundred fairy princesses who all blur together in memory. She wants a story, not an epic, and she doesn't even want to shape its reporting. I really doubt she'll get even that.
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Re: Thoughts: unhelpful
Wondrful!
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As a rule, I love the mix between fairy tales and fanfiction, there are always interesting interpretations. This one is one of the best I've read.
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