The king and queen had long desired a baby, and when Aurora was born, they threw a grand banquet to celebrate. They asked seven good fairies to be the infant princess’s godmothers, and the first six offered gifts to the baby: beauty, wit, grace, dance, song and goodness. But before the seventh fairy could present her gift, an uninvited evil old fairy burst in muttering, “I’ma let you finish…” She was not going to be ignored. She leaned into Tiny Aurora and cast a spell.
“A great virus will sweep this land,” she intoned, “and you’re gonna get it and die. That is all.”
As the evil fairy clicked her heels and stomped away, the seventh fairy rushed to the baby girl and tried to reverse the curse. This spell didn’t work, and that spell didn’t work, but finally she made one stick.
“When you catch the virus, you will not die, young princess,” the seventh fairy said. “Instead you will fall into a deep sleep for a hundred years and then be awakened by the kiss of a king’s son.”
“Will Aurora have agency in any of this?” the queen asked.
“Doing my best given the times we’re living in, ma’am,” the seventh fairy said.
Horrified by the prospect of his daughter catching the virus and succumbing to the evil fairy’s curse, the king announced drastic measures. From now on everyone in the kingdom was directed to stay home except when completing necessary tasks, such as going to the market. Activities central to the kingdom’s cultural life — such as dancing, singing and jousting — were prohibited. When people did go out, they were required to wear masks and to remain at least six feet apart from one another.
“Wash your hands for at least twenty seconds,” the king decreed. “And for the love of God, don’t touch your face.”
The king’s subjects obeyed his orders and felt a collective sense of pride as they watched Aurora grow up to become a lovely young woman displaying the qualities granted her by the first six fairies. Every once in a while, an ornery soul refused to wear a mask and protested by throwing produce at the market, but justice came swiftly, usually in the form of a public execution. The king wasn’t messing around.
Yet Aurora grew restless.
“I feel like I don’t have agency in my own story,” she complained to no one in particular.
She read tales of princesses dancing, singing and meeting charming princes. Why did they get to live exciting lives when all she could do was sit around and read about them? She didn’t want to be socially distant forever. She wanted to interact with people.
Aurora wandered around the palace seeking a companion of any kind. In a room she’d never noticed, she came upon an old woman wearing a mask and working a spindle.
“Could you show me how it works?” Aurora asked.
“Certainly, dearie, come sit right here,” the old woman said.
“Oh, I’d better keep my distance,” the princess said.
“Nonsense,” the old woman smiled. “Give it a try.”
Aurora affixed her mask firmly over her nose and mouth and sat next to the old woman, who smelled like burnt melon. The old woman got the spindle spinning for Aurora and —
“Ouch!” Aurora exclaimed. “Well, it’s only a needle prick.”
Then the old woman — who, as you’ve guessed by now, was the evil fairy — lowered her mask and coughed hard into the princess’s wound, spittle spraying everywhere.
“Gross!” Aurora cried and promptly fell asleep.
When the king and queen found their comatose daughter, they wept in anguish and laid her down in the palace’s most glorious room.
“It must have been fate,” the king said, wiping away a tear.
“That girl never did have agency,” the queen said.
The parents kissed their daughter goodbye and declared the chamber to be off limits to all. Then arrived the good fairy who had modified the curse. Fearing that Aurora would wake up alone and frightened a century’s hence, the fairy cast a spell that put everyone in the castle asleep, and she erected a thicket of thorns, brambles and trees around it to prevent anyone from entering or even seeing it.
After a hundred years, a handsome prince was out hunting when he caught a glimpse of the obscured castle. He asked his attendants what the story was, and an old man stepped forward to explain, “Within that castle lies a beautiful princess — a sleeping beauty, if you will — who can be awakened only by the kiss of a king’s son.”
The prince checked his breath, whipped out his sword and slashed his way through the leaves, brambles and thorns to reach the castle. Once inside he passed all sorts of sleeping folk until he found the princess’s chamber. She was the most gorgeous creature upon whom he had ever laid eyes.
“Hello! Beautiful princess!” he called from the doorway. “Wakey wakey!”
Then he blew her a kiss.
She did not stir.
He put on his mask and stepped closer.
“My moral compass will not allow me to kiss you without your consent, which you seem incapable of granting at this moment,” he said. “More to the point, a virus continues to ravage our land, so actual physical contact is out of the question.”
The prince was carrying two smartphones, which had been invented in the century since the princess had gone to sleep, so he set up a video call between the two and placed one phone in front of the princess’s face. He stepped back a safe distance and then started kissing the screen of his phone.
“Mmwah! Mmwah! Mmwah!”
Alas, the princess still did not awaken. Technology, he learned, was no substitute for actual flesh-upon-flesh contact.
This young woman was unparalleled in her radiance — that he could not deny. Then again, he was a handsome prince. He had options that would not involve pressing lips with someone carrying a deadly virus.
He retrieved his phone, placed it into a satchel separated from all his other satchels, and made a mental note to wipe it down with disinfectant, to wash his hands for at least 20 seconds and to avoid touching his face.
“Good luck, dear princess,” he said as he departed.
Years later the son of another king discovered the castle and explored the hallways until he arrived at the princess’s chamber. He walked right up and kissed her, because as his father had said long ago, when you’re famous you don’t have to ask permission, you just do it.
Aurora awakened to an extreme close-up of the grinning prince.
“I’m Eric!” he announced. “Look at this photo of me with a lion!”
“Yuck!” she said of the snapshot he held in front of her face. “Why would you kill a glorious lion?”
“I’m your prince who’s come to rescue you!” he barreled ahead. “Come on!”
“Wait a sec,” Aurora said, getting her bearings. “Where is everybody?”
“A terrible virus has swept through the land,” Eric said. “My father kept saying it’ll just go away, and it did — along with all living people.”
“But what about you?”
“My family was OK. Go figure!”
Aurora closed her eyes.
“What’re you doing?” Eric asked.
“Please wake me up in another hundred years.”
But sleep would not take her.
“Let’s go!” Eric insisted.
Aurora dragged herself out of bed, muttering, “I still don’t have agency in this story.”
The End
