I was not always bad. No one ever starts out that way, I believe. But I have lived a long time — a thousand times longer than you, dearie — and the weight of the world has been on my shoulders many times. Is it so wrong, so odd, that I would want to escape? There were other fairy godmothers to pester, so why did they always seek my assistance? And with such trivial matters! I am not the only one capable of blessing a prince on his christening day, or persuading the year’s crops to grow. Oh, but it became so common for them to ask me, I would become offended if they didn't. That's how my first sin came about, as you know. Or maybe you don't. Certainly you know the other side of the story, but never mine. Should I let the world know? I am confessing, after all. Very well; once upon a time, there was a slighted fairy...

I was the eldest of them all, all thirteen of us, and therefore I was considered old, far too old for a christening, a celebration of fertility, youth, and new life. I had none of that, true, but, oh, I had magic! It coursed through my veins, glimmered at my fingertips, obeyed my every whim! I was not young, but because of that I had more power than my sisters. Age demands respect, and if that respect is not given, is it so bad to take it by force?

So it was a beautiful day, in a beautiful kingdom that had just gained a beautiful princess. The whole land rejoiced! My sisters and I, we, too, were happy. We had a long history with this kingdom — oh, but its name has slipped my mind, it's been so long — and its prosperity was our prosperity. We not only desired invitations to bless the child, we expected it, demanded it. It was a mark of respect, of thanks for our service. So as my sisters giggled and squealed over their formal letters, I was left puzzled, and very, very angry. How could they forget me like that? Was I to be tossed aside, ignored, my many acts of kindness forgotten? I couldn't let that happen. So I showed up anyway, and I cursed the child with every ounce of my magic, for I truly wanted her to die. Then they would remember me! In their joy over their child the parents had slighted me, and one does not insult the Fair Folk if one wishes to have a happily ever after. My sisters were heartbroken and horrified at my transformation, but they understood. My youngest sister had a duty as well, though, and like a good fairy godmother she saved the girl’s life.

I would never see the child again, though I knew when she succumbed to my curse. Still filled with hate, my cruel heart rejoiced at the news. For while in the beginning, when I first heard of her birth, I had loved her before seeing her, for she was to be my goddaughter, as dear to me as my own child would be. But when her parents refused me, she forever altered my very self. No longer was I a sweet, caring fairy godmother. I was a witch, an evil hag; I had cursed the girl, but in the end it was I who would remain forever cursed.

So now you know of my sinful beginnings. How strange, it does not feel any different having others be aware. I am the same as I ever was, since the day of Aurora’s birth. Perhaps if I confess my other sins, I will feel absolved? Yes, then, that is what I’ll do. Well then, it is fact that the past affects the future, and so it was that my first sin led to my second.

I had fled the land of my transgression, forsaking my sisters to start over anew. I found another kingdom that did not persecute witches, and I found myself a nice house in the country. I did not have many neighbors, just an elderly man a few miles down the road, and a young married couple right next door. Now, I had this beautiful rapunzel garden, for I was wonderfully fond of the stuff; in lieu of anything else, it became my pride and joy. I must admit, I was lonely for a child, for being a godmother for as long as I had made me long for a baby’s laughter and smiles. The couple next door also longed for a son or daughter, and it was many years before the wife fell pregnant. I was jealous of their happiness, and the fact that I would no longer be able to bless the child when it came as its godmother reopened old wounds. In my bitterness I built a wall around my garden, keeping it all to myself. The couple could still see into my garden from their upstairs, however, and that was how the wife saw and desired my rapunzel. Despite what they thought, I knew the very first time the husband stole from me. I thought maybe I could indulge a pregnant woman’s cravings for one night, and though I was frustrated the second night I let him go. But when he dared come back a third time my rage knew no bounds. I revealed myself and flew at him, hitting him and screeching. In my fury I didn’t even think to use any magic — all I knew was that I enjoyed the sensation of my fists on the husband’s flesh.
When I calmed down, I threatened terrible curses on him and his wife if he did not return my rapunzel. He wept and told me of his wife’s cravings and how she refused to eat anything else. He begged me to spare his wife and told me he would do anything. And that’s when the idea came to me; a terrible, cruel idea that fit this vicious soul quite well. I told him I wouldn’t do his wife any harm, if he gave his child to me once it was born. It was only fair; he had taken my food to save the child, and so I should get the child in compensation. Reluctantly the husband agreed, and my desire for a child was fulfilled.

Oh, but what an awful child she turned out to be! She was rude, disobedient, and insufferably vain. Perhaps I was to blame for her upbringing but I refused to think I had done wrong. I built a tower for her and shoved her there, always lamenting the day I told her father to give her to me. I could not give her back, for her mother had died in childbirth and her husband withered away with loneliness not too long afterwards. Whether I liked it or not, Rapunzel (as I had called the girl) was mine.

I tried to love her, really, but, maybe because I had forsaken my heart so long ago, I felt nothing but anger and disdain for the girl who was supposed to be my daughter. I doubt that her affection was false, however, because even though she was snobby and spoiled, she was also somehow very innocent. At least that’s what I thought until I discovered her to be whoring around with the prince of the land! As with her father years before I exploded and assaulted my ward, beating her and cutting her beloved curls. How dare she disobey me so? How dare she disrespect me so? I kicked her out; why pretend I loved her any longer when I hated the sight of her? I knew what I felt was wrong and cruel, but such was the creature I had become. When the prince came that night I tricked him with Rapunzel’s hair, and then I threw him down into the thorns below. He, too, needed to be punished.

I left the country then. No need to be around when the prince’s condition was discovered. I would put Rapunzel out of my mind, determined to not remember her. There was absolutely nothing that child could do for me anymore; indeed, she’d done nothing to change me in the first place.

Oh, how I wished that was so. But what Rapunzel had done was to finally turn me against children forever. I wanted nothing to do with them; they were good-for-nothing little whiners. Ah, but it was at their hands I perished, wasn’t it? This is the tale of my final sin.

I settled in the woods, afterwards. There shouldn’t be too many children there, or so I thought. But every so often little boys and little girls would get lost, crying for their mamas. Their screaming annoyed me. It was bad enough the animals were as noisy as they were; I would not tolerate a human disturbing my peace, and so I punished them: I would take them to my place and put them in my oven and they would become my dinner. It was heartlessly cruel, I knew, but I did not care. I hated children and I did not care if I hurt them; let them come to me and suffer! Why, I even enchanted my house to make it turn into candy, to lure the brats in. They were always so grateful for my hospitality. How I laughed as they cooked!

So it was not surprising when two young ones stumbled upon my house and started devouring it as if they had not eaten in days. Maybe they hadn’t; soon they wouldn’t have to worry about it. The girl was plump enough, but the boy was so skinny. I liked the boys the best, you understand, and it disappointed me he was not ready. I did not want the girl yet, as the other day I just finished a nice meal of twins, but I could hardly let them escape. So when they had settled in nicely, I revealed my true self. The boy I locked up and the girl I forced to become my maid, making her feed her brother so he would make for a better meal.

Now, I’ve told you I am old, and that, coupled with my dark transformation had left me with terrible sight. I could not see well enough to check if the boy was growing fatter. Whenever I felt for his finger, he was as skinny as a bone. Eventually I grew hungry again, and decided the boy would be cooked. I ordered the girl to start the fire, but then the blasted child had no idea what to do! I leaned in to show her, and a felt a push from behind. Unbearable heat assaulted me, and the children laughed while I burned.

So now you know my greatest sins. I do feel a bit better now, but, oh, the pain memories cause! I regret everything, especially how blinded I was by my pride and anger. I became a miserable, bitter shell of my former glory. Take a lesson from me, dearie, and remember a poor old witch’s misgivings. Yes, remember me well, or you, too, might end up burned.