One Heart Frozen Further, Another Thawed and Melted While the Stone Around It *SHATTERS*...

♪You showed him *all the best* of you,
But I'm afraid *your BEST* wasn't good enough-
And know he *NEVER wanted you*;
At least, not the way you WANTED yourself to be loved...

And you feel like *you were A MISTAKE*;
He's *NOT WORTH* all those tears that won't go away-!
I wish you could *see that*,
-Still you TRY TO IMPRESS HIM;
But he *NEVER* will listen...♪

'Broken Angel', Boyce Avenue

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Chiara Evelina Belmagio nowadays mostly known as 'the Blue Faerie' sadly and worriedly watched over her semi-once dear friend Geppetto Tommaso as half-drunk he feverishly yet studiedly carved ...a little *string-LESS* puppet out of the white pine tree that grew over his son Carlo's empty grave. That poor boy- he had been such a sweet friendly child, his life cruelly cut short by an accidental bombing at ten years old... And now here was Geppetto twenty years later, doing his very best to bring his dear son back from the dead.

Such was NOT POSSIBLE, surely- not without the use of black magic, a great sacrifice, a *VERY HIGH price*, or all of the above! And even to merely give Geppetto another son, Carlo or no, was against The Rules of Fae for more than one reason. A Wishing Faerie was not allowed to 1) bring true life to an inanimate object, 2) grant wishes from his or her hometown, and 3) do either one *in secret* without consulting their fellow Fae. But ohhhhh, HOW *SHE wished* to try and help somehow-!!

She was also watching after a sapphire-blue anthropomorphic cricket with near-glowing pale aquamarine eyes, a silvery mustache, and a Scots-Gaelic cadence to his speech as well as Italian. Poor thing had been rudely shaken from the pine tree in which he'd made his home by Geppetto's cutting it down, and was now viewing the goings-on from a music-box shelf... He also had a secret desire/longing, but again- not allowed to grant wishes from her hometown.

Chiara watched Geppetto strip, sand, carve, hammer-and-nail, screw, and paint the little wooden puppet with glazed reddened tear-stained eyes. When finished, the toy looked very much like young Carlo save for a few differences- he was less tall in frame, his cheeks were daubed with rose, his own pale 'skin' lightly splattered with a dusting of freckles, his large bright eyes were a clear vibrant-yet-soft shade of blue rather than dark hazel-brown, and his nose was both a button and elongated shape. Unique, a bit funny-looking- yet charming and adorable, on that last...

Both she and the quasi-cricket tisked and shook their heads when they saw that in his soused daze, Geppetto had completely forgotten *CLOTHES* of some sort- much less his nicely-crafted ones for his dolls, marionettes, and some stuffed animals. Well, at least the little puppet had all of his limbs, features, and torso intact. In Geppetto's pitiful present state, that was really all one could ask for/expect-!

"I will- I will finish you tomorrow. Yes- *tomorrow*..."

Now Geppetto was laying down his tools and heading for bed once he'd tenderly stroked the wooden child's cheek and kissed his forehead. Chiara *did NOT* envy him the headache he'd have in the morning- THIS was why drinking was *NEVER worth it*.

'Madre Maria', but she almost did not recognize him in his grief! In his youth, Geppetto had been a happy gentle-natured if rather shy young man with a secret longing to bring joy to the children of Pariva- become a toymaker rather continue the family business of being a lutheir (instrument maker and repairer) as his father had wished him to ...now he was almost a MERE SHELL of a man, grieving for both son and wife, whom had passed away when Carlo was five from scarlet fever. A mere shell of a man who wished for nothing more than to bring his son back to him through carving a stringless puppet out of a pine tree that had once sheltered his dear child's resting place...

Chiara was so moved that she was about to *SHATTER the Rules* regardless-

But then something stopped her *COLD* yet filled her with wonder, awe, disbelief, and amazement as well as the Talking Cricket- and it was this: there was a faintly glowing silvery-gray shimmer shot through with rainbow 'stars' that surrounded Geppetto's newest creation from head to foot, an even brighter light akin to akin a star gone nova from within ...and then just as the boy *blinked and stretched and rubbed at his eyes*, white pinewood shifted and transformed into FLESH, BLOOD, BONE, HAIR, MUSCLE TISSUE, AND ORGANS!!! And quite thankfully, *CLOTHES* appeared onto his little body as well- a pair of bright red dungarees embroidered on the sides with blue-and-gold, a pale yellow short-sleeved button-down shirt with a white collar, a dark vest edged with gold, heather-purple socks, brown Mary-Jane-esque shoes that both buckled and tied, and accessories consisting of a blue bowtie, white gloves, and an adorable saffron-yellow Tyrolean cap with a blue ribbon and red feather...

It was Against The Rules for a Wishing Faerie to bring *TRUE life* to an inanimate object, yes. However, a stunned shocked Chiara vaguely recalled something that her mentor (and now surprisingly but not unwantedly beloved, as well) the Violet Faerie Agata had once told her back in her apprenticing days- 'There are *rare and WONDERFUL* times when someone creates something with all of their heart and soul- so much so that that creation is given a heart, soul, and life itself. This Creation can be wood, stone, clay, marble, or gemstone, and can become flesh-and-blood, though every once in a while they *HAVE TO be* what they soullessly once were, or they unwantingly become stiff for several days...'

*By 'Dio' and all of His Heavenly Host*...!!! Geppetto, out of the loneliness of his empty heart which he longed *MORE THAN ANYTHING* to be filled with light, love, joy, and laughter again, had made *a CREATION*! -A Creation who was looking rather lost and confused right now, and rightfully so...

But just before she could star-beam herself down from the roof of the old bell-tower where doves often roosted where she had been watching and Listening and inform the dark-haired sweet-eyed child of what exactly he was, Geppetto suddenly awoke, strangely now stone-cold sober. His bleary reddened pale blue eyes, still wearing their rimless glasses, peered over at the toy-turned-Real Boy sitting on the workbench and looking around while flapping his hands back and forth and examining his body, his bright eyes perplexed and confused, and even a little frightened...

The boy's eyes turned to Geppetto, now love and the tiniest bit of recognition shining through those cerulean-sky depths even as he trembled a bit. "F-F-Father??" a sweet clear young voice that sounded less old than Carlo had been (seven or eight years old to Carlo's ten, Chiara thought- though maybe she could be wrong) queried of the heartbroken elderly toymaker quaveringly and semi-hopefully. It made Chiara's warm heart *ACHE* to hear and see, and touched that of the blue-shaded quasi-cricket still watching from a shelf.

"...*Carlo*!" Geppetto exhaulted joyfully and lovingly, bounding out of bed like a much younger man with his arms spread wide. He ran- no, SPRINTED over to his workbench where his 'brought-back' son was still sitting, then scooped him up into the woodcarver's arms and embraced him with all of his heart. Now 'twas tears of *JOY* and WONDER that rained down Geppetto's cheeks.
"My son- *'figlio mio'*- my shining golden sun, my little pinecone, my sweet sweet precious boy... *you've COME BACK*- come *HOME*!" he sniffled, burying his face into 'Carlo's' hair and breathing in his much-missed scent that had faded from his bedsheets, quilt, pillow, and clothes long ago.

"I- I h-have??" was the much-confused response, thin black brows once-painted lowering in thought as his alabaster brow creased in the same manner. "What's- What's goin' on, Father??? Why- Whatcha cryin' for?"

(Though even his massive confusion and slight fear didn't stop him from hugging Geppetto back and snuggling into him, being not only an innocent child, but one with a large heart of pure gold and soul as clear and blue as his eyes, Chiara could sense and tell with her gift of seeing into one's heart and sensing their true self.)

'Tell him the truth, "amico mio". It may frighten, confuse, and even upset him ...but tell your other son *the TRUTH*, even if you don't know about his being a Creation as many humans save a few don't, they are so very rare, cherished, yet oft-destroyed once found. Besides, you so value truth yourself- even told Carlo a bedtime story around such...'

*Alas, alas*...!! Chiara ran hot and cold and felt like she'd been slapped and spit in the face when Geppetto HESITATED, froze, and then proceeded to slowly say, "There was- There was *an accident*, 'caro mio' Carlo. You- You were very badly hurt, and deeply asleep for a very long time..."

The Talking Cricket's eyes bugged (ha) wide, his jaw dropping about the ground. More than likely, he was roundly cursing and greatly berating Geppetto in fervent Scots-Gaelic and Italian in his head- not that Chiara could at all blame him.

"An- An accident?? I- I don't r'member, 'Padre'..."

"You were- Y-You were heading back in to fetch your pinecone that you'd forgotten in the church I was carving the crucifix for- the one you told me you were going to plant and then make toys out of like me once it was big enough. A- A plane was passing over the church and town, and th- there was an emergency bomb inside it that some-someone accidentally FOOLISHLY *STUPIDLY* dropped. It- It landed on the church, and- and you were caught in the crossfire.
"You- You were blown away, but s-survived. '*Grazie e Dio*', but *you SURVIVED*! However, you- you hit your head aw-awful hard, and it kn-knocked you out as though ...as though you were dead. You didn't- You didn't wake up until just now."

"O-Oh," 'Carlo' replied quietly, rubbing his lower lip between his teeth and clutching and fingering the worn cotton fabric of Geppetto's nightshirt. "I guess- I guess that explains things. Why I feel so- f-funny and weird..."

"Are you in pain, son?" Geppetto queried worriedly. "You *DID go through a couple of surgeries*, and that can sometimes leave one still hurting a bit or a lot afterwards."

'Carlo' shook his head. "N-No. No pain, Father. I just feel- well, d-*different*."

'That is because you are a Creation- you're feeling your other wooden self sleeping sound inside of you for the moment ...and *something else* that I can't quite put my finger on for the moment. *Nothing BAD*, rest assured, "dolce bambino"! Just- just *STRANGE*...'

"Ah... well, that will pass in time, 'tesoro'," Geppetto assured his confused child, dropping a kiss onto his head and gently rubbing his back while giving him another loving squeeze. "But never mind, now! Old Geppetto has his beautiful boy back- *nothing else matters*, he-he...! We are back together again- you are *back HOME* with me. With your papa..."

The boy-who-was-ABSOLUTELY-*NOT*-Carlo-for-all-he-mostly-resembled-him still seemed a bit worried and puzzled, but then seemed to brush it off/push it back via a sweet bright smile and turned-up sparkle of his round baby-blues. "S-'Si'- yes. You're- You're right, F- Papa! I'm- I'm all better now, 'n you're happy again; that's- that's all that matters!" Then he hugged Geppetto again and leaned up to press a loving apologetic kiss to his cheek, adding in the same time, "I'm- *I'm AWFUL SORRY* that I was asleep so long you thought I was g-g-*GONE* after bein' hurt, Papa! And- And 'm sorry I didn't just leave the pinecone b'hind and come back home with you- th-that's how I got hurt 'n made you awful sad..."

"*Awwww*... 'povere' lad! He's got *NOTHIN'* t' apologize for, but all he knows (apparently) is what Daddy Dearest is tellin' him- an' tellin' him *WRONGLY*. 'Tis a cryin' shame- he's such a sweet thoughtful-seemin' 'ragazzo' who wants nothin' more than t' make his 'padre' happy..."

Geppetto's eyes were clear and glittering like the night sky after being washed clean with rain, his smile nothing but love and tenderness -and more than a bit of denial- as he gently stroked his 'brought-back' son's freckled rosy cheek once more warm with life. "'Mio sole', there is *NOTHING* *TO forgive*!" he husked. "You made a mistake- *EVERYONE does* once in a while, even my perfect darling brave handsome boy. Yes, you were badly hurt as a result and I was very sad for a long while, ...but now you are well, whole, safe, and sound, back home in my arms. That's *ALL* I care about, my dear Carlo. Alright?"

Another nervous conscience-stricken lip-rub near a bite- more cloth-fiddling. Chiara and the 'Grillo Parlente' sensed that had Geppetto not been holding him, one of the child Creation's hands would have been clutching or rubbing his arm while he slightly rocked back-and-forth, if not fiddling with the hem of his dungarees. Then eventually, a sweet apprehensive, "Al-Alright, Papa. I- I made a mistake- an *AWFUL BIG mistake* that *HURT* YOU -*hurt YOUR HEART*-, but- but it's all over now and- and you're not gonna be angry or upset with me about it. I'm- I'm still a-*AWFUL sorry*, though-!"

Geppetto's bespectacled eyes melted further- he leaned down and pressed another kiss to 'Carlo's' head. "Shhh- it's alright, 'mio dolce ragazzo'. *I forgive you*. It's all over now- I won't speak of it again, or bring it up in an argument. That would do no good whatsoever...!"

'Carlo's' eyes and smile were so bright they could have led lost ships home and shore-ward bound like the guiding beam of a lighthouse as well as simply lit up the whole of Pariva or Esperia as he again nestled into his father's strong solid shoulder. "Gr-'Grazie', Papa. T-'Ti viglio bene'."

"And I love you SO VERY MUCH, 'mio piccolo pigna'."

"-I love you more."

"Ahhh- not possible, for I *love you MOST*, Carlo-mine. *Forever and always*, 'bambino'...!"

"So... I'm not in the hospital anymore?"

"No, 'figlio mio'. When you FINALLY showed signs of waking up, the doctors said I could bring you home so that you would be within familiar surroundings- especially should you awaken with part of or much of your memory missing. They didn't want you to be anymore frightened and confused than you would already be."

"I guess th-that's why there's so many b-blank spots..."

'No, "dolce bambino". It is due to your being a just-awakened Creation once merely a little stringless puppet made of pine carved by a drunken grieving near-delirious man out of the tree growing over his born-son's empty grave...' Chiara corrected him sadly, feeling her own blue eyes smart and water as her heart CRACKED and soul panged in her chest.

"It- It may take some time, but your memory will come back, 'tesoro'," soothed Geppetto, stroking 'Carlo's' bangs. "You're- You're still recovering a bit, though, so the doctors advised me that you not go out in public or have visitors for awhile."

That understandably made 'Carlo' feel a little unhappy, but he nodded obediently with a clouded-sunshine smile all the same, wanting to be a good boy -a good son- and make his father proud of him.

"But until then and afterwards, we CAN *still* spend some time together! Just you and me, son," Geppetto smiled back, now ruffling 'Carlo's' hair. "How does that sound?"

Now 'Carlo' *BEAMED back*, his eyes truly sparkling in his rounded rosy face sugar-sprinkled with 'fairy/angel kisses'. "S-'*Si*'! *YES, Papa*! Yes, please! That sounds w-*WONDERFUL*!"

"He-he! I'm glad you think so too, Carlo," Geppetto chortled happily.

It was LATE- *VERY late*, and they both should have been asleep. But Geppetto was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed with joy and adrenaline, same as 'Carlo' to a point- though for the child Creation, it was more of a warm gentle humming tingle rather than the IV shooting of caffeinated coffee where his father was concerned. And *HELL* would break loose should either the Blue Faerie or 'Grillo Parlente' disturb father and son in *the WORST* way where the part-time-wooden boy was concerned...
'Twas simply best for the moment to let things play out as they would.

"It's late, we should both be asleep, but, *oh I don't care*! You are awake- you are well again, Carlo! This calls for *a CELEBRATION*! What would you like to do with your papa?" Geppetto looked as eager and excited as a child impatient to look in their stocking and open presents on Christmas morning. Any other time, Chiara would have called it 'sweet' and wishing she had a camera to capture the moment and more between father and son.

A Creation was given vague basic knowledge of the world around them when they Awoke, and that included advanced technology. So-

"...Could- Could we watch a movie or two t'gether please, Papa?" Then with a sheepish red-faced smile and puppy-dog eyes after a long loud rumbling growl emitted from 'Carlo's' empty stomach for the very first time whether flesh-blood-and-bone or wooden- "While- While havin' dinner?"

"*But OF COURSE*, Carlo 'tesoro'- if that is what you'd like!" Geppetto beamed, then adding with a worried glint in his eyes as he wiped at them, "And *silly me*- of course you are also HUNGRY! You haven't really eaten or drunk anything for a *VERY LONG time*, being asleep in a coma after being bomb-hit for so long! Let me just help you on your feet again, help you to walk- put a shawl or bathrobe on and my slippers- and then I will fetch something from the fridge and warm it up. What would you like?"

"Um... some soup sounds nice. D-Do you have any 'f that, Papa?"

"I do, indeed, Carlo-mine! Luckily I do- *HOMEMADE chicken soup* with carrots, onions, celery, and Italian spices. Very delicious- very nourishing, which is what you need, not bland 'hospital' food! And how about some hot chocolate, too? We never did get around to 'It looks like a hot chocolate day, doesn't it?', didn't we? (Well, *night* rather, now, *but SEMANTICS*-!)"

"That- That sounds *REALLY good*, Papa. Th-Thank you."

"Ahhh, you are so very 'prego' (welcome), 'mio caro ragazzo'! And some buttery cinnamon-sugar popcorn for a treat/dessert; why not? Make it a *PROPER movie night*..."

"What- What would you like t' watch together, Papa?"

"Oh no no, 'figlio mio'! That is truly very sweet and courteous of you to ask, but this is *YOUR night*. YOU get to decide. Go ahead- whatever you wish, Carlo!"

"O-Okay, then. Gr-'Grazie', Papa. Um... O-'One Hundred and One Dalmatians', 'Beauty and the Beast', and 'Mary Poppins'?"

"A *DISNEY movie* night- all VERY GOOD choices first night back with Papa, 'tesoro'! And you do love dogs, and magic..."

True, for both boys- but PINOCCHIO was also very fond of *cats*, Chiara could tell. 'Pinocchio'- that was the very first name that had popped into her head upon first seeing him in Geppetto's home and workshop ...the name that faintly rang at the back of *HIS head* as his *TRUE* ACTUAL name. Unusual maybe, for *an AUNT* to name one's son instead of the father or mother- but then, this was indeed an unusual and heartwrenching situation altogether...

For Pinocchio's aunt -his 'zia' or 'zietta'- she was, as Geppetto had once been in love with and semi-courted her younger sister Ilaria, and she with him for all he loved children and thoughts of dandling a boy or girl on her knee while staying in 'dusty old Pariva' a street away from her parents brought her *NO joy* whatsoever. The Forgetting Spell had mingled with Geppetto's great grief and drunken state, therefore blending his and Ilaria's essences together and creating a child of their 'blood' for all that he had carved and painted Pinocchio out of a fervent desire to bring Carlo back to life outside of now only in his heart and memories.

She dearly wanted to be *TRULY happy* for them, especially her sweet little new nephew ...but she wasn't. Geppetto would only see Pinocchio as Carlo, and expect him to be aforementioned poor dead boy, diving deep into not only 'de Nile' but Ahtohollan itself- *dive TOO FAR*, and DROWN one way or another. And then Pinocchio would BREAK- *SHATTER*, his friendly open loving heart and soul splintering and fracturing into billions of tiny pieces. More than likely *run away*, as well-!
And she could *do NOTHING* to stop or help it, much as she wished and longed to. If either Geppetto simply died or threw Pinocchio out, she couldn't take him in and adopt him. A Wishing Faerie could not interact with his or her family once they accepted and received their wings and wand after an apprenticeship of a year- they had to cast a Forgetting Spell, in accordance to Fae Rules...

Therefore, she was *completely and utterly HELPLESS* to assist her bright shining little star save for from afar or in secret. -And it was now time for her to take her leave...

Sadly, she wiped at her eyes and prepared to fly back to her home on the Wishing Star while still watching Geppetto help Pinocchio onto his feet 'again', put one foot in front of the other, and move the stiff muscles of his legs 'back' into mobility before putting on a shawl and slippers and retrieving chicken soup and whipped cream from the fridge, a container of cinnamon-sugar from the kitchen cupboard above the stove, and a bag of 'movie-butter' popcorn and two packets of Swiss Miss Dark hot chocolate mix from the pantry as well as getting out a big bowl for the popcorn, two smaller bowls for soup, two spoons, two mugs, some napkins, and a sturdy table-tray- Pinocchio meanwhile looking for and retrieving the movies he'd suggested. (Geppetto was a bit old-fashioned, so they were video-tapes rather than DVDS.)
"Goodbye, Geppetto- goodbye, Pinocchio," she tearfully whispered. "'Mio 'piccolo dolce nipote' originally made of pine who rose with the sun (or *the stars and moon*, rather) and now wanders the earth, I dearly hope and pray that you and this brokenhearted broken-minded man can bring great company and joy to another- fill each other's days and nights with light so that neither one of you will EVER be alone. *I HOPE* that you will *NEVER* be broken, lost, or forgotten ...though I greatly fear just as much that you will be one day, 'piccolo stella', and I will be able to *do NOTHING* to help you in person due to The Rules."

Then once more with a heavy hurting heart and blurred stinging eyes, Chiara Belmagio vanished from the quaint little Italian village of Pariva, folding into the stars.

%Meanwhile, Chiara Belmagio's YOUNGER SISTER Ilaria, once merely a younger bakers' daughter and now both the Heartless Scarlet Faerie and famous beloved opera singer 'Cleo del Mar the Crimson Nightingale of Esperia', was also watching and listening *DUMBFOUNDED* to the goings-on in 'good Geppetto's' home. At first, she had been astonished and *giddy with glee* that her sanctimonious goody-two-shoes bleeding-heart oh-so-PERFECT sister had been about to break- no, *SHATTER* *ALL OF the Wishing Faeries' Cardinal Rules* in one fell swoop and therefore making it ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY for Ilaria to intercept and interfere with an *IMPOSSIBLE* hard-won wager that may or may not have turned out all right in the end in Geppetto's and little 'Pinocchio's' favor- key word being 'at first'-

Then she had been *knocked for TEN* when not only did the little pinewood puppet turn out to be a *CREATION* *with-OUT* ANY help from a faerie, and he turn out by chance, lost hope, desperate longing, and twisted broken love to be *hers' and Geppetto's offspring* for all that she had only ever kissed him on *the CHEEK* and split a cookie with him during their 'courtship' back in their youth, but when nervously asked what was going on and why he was crying and happy at the same time, the soft-hearted gentle meek mild shy man just as moralizing, saintly, and pure-hearted as her 'perfect' sister *OUTRIGHT LIED to his 'brought-back' son*!! *Lied to him*, when he had *scolded HER* about not coming clean about the results of her Madrigal Conservatory audition after she had been dismissed rather than accepted forty years ago!!! UNBELIEVABLE- *inconceivable*...! *IMPOSSIBLE*!!
-*Insulting*. *BEYOND insulting*! 'MADNESS! *Folly*! *INSANITY*...!!'

As a (semi)Heartless, this SHOULD again make her want to *CACKLE with delight*-! But instead, Ilaria felt as though she had been slapped, *and HARD*. Kicked and punched in the stomach. She felt SICK, and angry on *SOMEONE ELSE'S behalf*- on *her SON'S* and sister's behalf...

Geppetto SHOULD HAVE told Pinocchio (for this she sensed was their son's *TRUE name*) the truth as he *ALWAYS* did! *NOT* hesitated and fibbed while calling him by his other DEAD son's name! Now the poor 'piccino' was BRAINWASHED as well as confused and scared, for all that he was happy that his long-sad father was happy and loved him right away because he was as much an angel as Ilaria was not and had never been save for her 'heavenly' voice and striking beauty...!

She still found the domestic scene of father and son cuddling on the couch for a 'movie night' complete with blankets, popcorn, hot chocolate, and soup to be sickly-sweet- emphasis now on 'sickly', though in a much different manner than before. Mainly due to 'good Geppetto's' being a COMPLETE AND UTTER Hideous Two-Faced Hypocrite right now...

-No. She *would NOT* interfere with Chiara's business or Pinocchio's fate and well-being. 'A puppet with no heart' ...but one could *NEVER* say that about a Creation, for they needed a heart and soul to live- to *merely exist*! And a heart and soul Pinocchio did indeed have- and would have as a wrongly-brought-to-life puppet or elsewise, Ilaria not-so-grudgingly or spitefully admitted to herself. A heart big and bright as the moon and a soul pure as his voice...
A heart that SHE would now *NEVER break*, not on purpose; whether he was also her son, or no.

She was DEPRAVED- *WICKED*- and had been delighted with it for four decades (mostly). Creation, human, Fae, or mere magical wooden puppet, Pinocchio *was NOT* and *would never be so*. He was not and would *NEVER* be HEARTLESS, for all that she might have sneered, mocked, taunted, and jeered so to her sister's face-!
He was a very *SWEET boy*- a GOOD boy. Brave, truthful, and unselfish; warm, kind, and more than likely patient ...just like his (ha-ha; *the IRONY* of the REALITY) sainted noble aunt the Blue Faerie Chiara.

Once more, the little princess Snowdrop/Snow White outshone the evil queen- the Fairest One of All, inside and out. -But *THIS darkly-beautiful monarch* had no intention whatsoever now of snuffing her own child's life out by way of carving his-or-her heart out to be cooked, salted, and eaten via the Huntsman, life-choking laces, a toxic comb, or poisoned apple, for all that she was still not a bit jealous of the child's beauty evident even at a mere *seven years old* (or ten). No... Now given what she had just heard and witnessed, Snow White would forever be safe from the evil queen's jealousy- and that INCLUDED if he happened to be just as or more adept and talented than she onstage!, she sharply reprimanded herself with a mental small shake.

One way or another, *SANS her interference*, Pinocchio would live a full happy life, with or without Geppetto. -But in order to *TRULY do that*, as Pinocchio's mother, Ilaria had some business to attend to: taking out both Larissa the Green and Amorale the Grey as well as their henchmen Honest John, Gideon, Stromboli, and the Coachman. Not only they were sly shiftless greedy dishonorable crooks and kidnappers, those last four ...but they were also CHILD PREDATORS. *Child sex predators*, to be sickeningly exact. Pinocchio would be a sweet juicy fruit ripe for the plucking and consuming- being *devoured WHOLE* once those MONSTERS sharpened their daggers on his tiny wooden-or-flesh body and kind pure innocent soul and *slit him in two*...!! A beautiful pure white rose *STAINED red* and then *WILTED*-
And Pleasure Island had to be destroyed, too; the children turned from donkeys back to human, if the poor things were still alive... *Monstro the half-whale sea monster* would also have to be put down in order to further protect her son and his father.

Amorale and Larissa couldn't be killed- but she COULD and would *TRAP them* somewhere they could *NEVER* hurt, kill, or manipulate another person ever again.

"'Arrivederci, mio dolce figlio'," she murmured, her dark green eyes *TRULY tearing up* for the first time in a *VERY LONG* while as her far-off heart flickered with starlight warmth and rainbow beauty, the empty hollow space in her chest panging in deep sorrow, regret, blossoming love, and sharp bitter disappointment. "I am *SO VERY sorry* for what I almost did to you and your family- OUR family! But now 'Madre' WILL *FIX it*; *destroy the monsters who threaten you and other innocent boys and girls in and out of Pariva and Italy proper*...
"I never thought I'd say this to one of *MY OWN children*, never having wanted any in the first place, but- *I love you*, Pinocchio. One way or another, I do. Be a good boy for your father now despite his own unexpected lies- okay, little star? ...Hmm- 'little star'. The nickname suits YOU *MUCH BETTER* than it does me. You TRULY shine and burn bright, just by being yourself, with no artifice whatsoever ...unlike your 'madre'."

Unlike her sister, however, she stayed until father and son eventually fell asleep still curled up on the living-room couch, softly singing a lullaby she thought up on the spot and felt deep within her battered tarnished far-off heart and still-there soul.

~"Love can't be denied-
Love *MUST have its way*;
Once it gets inside,
*Love is THERE TO STAY*-!
Once you let your heart awaken,
*Love can't be denied*...

Try to RUN AND HIDE,
Try to *slam the door*-
Love can't be denied!
Love keeps *wanting MORE*;
Love won't let itself be shaken,
*No matter* HOW I've tried*...

It flows through my veins-
It *burns beneath my skin*;
It calls my name and says,
'*You FOOL*!! *Give in*...!'

*Tear inside the doubt*,
Cast away your pride;
Love CAN'T *be KEPT OUT*-
Love can't be *DENIED*!
*Let yourself be TAKEN OUT*,
And swept before the tide...

Love's *the ONLY* thing
No one is above;
I can love-
That *love can't be denied*..."~

Then, once both Geppetto and Pinocchio were sound asleep, she blew a non-mocking kiss toward the latter. "Goodnight- sleep tight; don't let the bad faeries bite. Sweet dreams, Pinocchio- Chia's and my bright shining beautiful little star... 'Buono notte', Geppetto."

With a bright flare of scarlet light and haze of crimson smoke and mist, 'twas now the *SCARLET Faerie* and YOUNGER bakers' daughter who vanished from Pariva's streets...%

*********************************************************************************************************************************************

Carlo Gregario Tommaso was confused as ever- no. *PERPLEXED*. And STILL *feeling WEIRD AND DIFFERENT* about himself... Still feeling somehow *not right*.

It had been a month since he'd first woken up from his bomb-induced coma, and he still was not allowed to go outside or have visitors/former friends come over to his Fath- no, *Papa*, he preferred being called 'Papa'- his papa's house. There were still *BLANK SPOTS* in his memory that were *STAYING clean as a fresh-wiped chalkboard*! Not even so much as a FLICKER of a memory trying to push through a shut, bolted, locked, and chained door...
And Papa was still *awful sad* sometimes even while tenderly smiling or gently hugging Carlo. *GUILTY* for some reason or other, as well!

But *WHY*???? *What for*??? Carlo was well again- he was much better! He'd HEALED; he'd awakened from his awful long Sleeping Beauty or Snow White sleep as a result of being hit by the bomb accidentally dropped on the church (which he hadn't yet gone to again, either- instead, he read Bible passages and stories while Papa was at Sunday Mass and then they discussed them together when the woodcarver/toymaker came home)! Surely by now, he was *MORE THAN ready* to simply go outside- go back to school, church, and places like the park, playground, library, arcade, theater, and/or museum...!

Maybe Papa was still afraid and nervous as well as sadly wishing that Carlo's mama were here with them. -After all, it HAD been *a CHURCH* -somewhere that was supposed to be *SAFE* as much as Welcoming- where he'd been badly hurt and knocked unconscious! But Papa had said that the church was long repaired by now- surely made *even SAFER*, just in case-

On the *OUTER side* of still-strange and weird things, his eyes were still blue instead of dark brown, his cheeks still rosy rather than pale as the rest of his skin, his skin still freckled rather than clear ...and his nose still a funny odd elongated-button shape instead of 'perfect' like the rest of him in the family pictures Papa had shown him. Papa had said that all that was an after-effect of the church-bomb's chemicals reacting weirdly to his body- and likely, it would be permanent.
This wouldn't bother him quite so much or even at all if he didn't feel like something was still *TERRIBLY WRONG*- felt more akin to DOTTORE FRANKENSTEIN'S CREATURE than the Nutcracker Prince or a gender-flipped younger dark-haired Grand Duchess Anastasia 'Anya' Romanov...

(-Had the *smoky-yet-iridescent faerie wings* and occasional LONG GREY DONKEY EARS AND TAIL plus *his MAGIC* also been a weird result of the bomb??? And turning from Real Boy to *stringless white-pinewood puppet* with carved hair as painted as his eyebrows, eyes, cheeks, freckles, and mouth?? *NONE OF WHICH* he'd shown his papa, however, as none of it fit the definition of 'perfect'- HIS definition of 'perfect', i.e. *'flawless'*. [Exhibit A: that aforementioned little pinecone with *NONE OF its' scales missing* he'd run back inside the church to retrieve despite The Bomb hanging over it.] He'd merely kept his shocking startling Harry Potter-esque discoveries to himself, and practiced his magic in secret via what he'd seen in movies and a couple of TV shows and read in fictional books [*steering CLEAR* of the BAD *BLACK MAGIC* kind of spellcraft of course, thankyouverymuch!!])...

"Ah- *ahem*! C-Carlo? 'Suono'?"

Carlo's mind jerked, bringing him back to the present. *Oh*- right! It was Sunday again- Papa had just come home from Mass at church ...and looked ever more sad and guilt-ridden than ever. BROKEN. *SHATTERED*. And his usually soft sweet gentle blue eyes were *so APOLOGETIC* as well as darkened with sorrow...!
His whole tall thin lanky being dressed in simple slightly old-fashioned clothes was, as a matter of fact.

"*Uh-oh*..." he heard his secret cricket friend Sebastian mutter worriedly to himself from his hiding place in Carlo's vest pocket. Carlo echoed him inwardly, fighting off and back the urge to bite or chew his lower lip, rock back and forth, clutch his arm, or rub it as he sat up from Papa's green armchair and laid down his book that he'd been reading after finishing morning home-school lessons. It greatly worried Papa when he did that (though not so much when he fiddled with his clothes or hair), so he tried not to.

-Why was Papa hiding his hands behind his back??? Was it to conceal for the moment an apology present of sorts??

Still, Carlo tried to act happy to see him as he bounded over like a puppy. "Hello, Papa!" he chirruped sweetly. "You're back- *early*! I missed you while you were gone!"

No 'I missed you too, son' in his eyes even if his tear-blocked throat couldn't manage the words. No- chillingly, it was instead 'I *miss* you, son'... But WHY ON EARTH *was THAT*???! Carlo was *HERE*- *right here*! *He was BACK HOME*- whole, safe, sound-! *He WAS*!
(*HewashewashewasHEWAS*...)

"Oh, child," Papa whispered softly and shakily, like he was about to cry, trying not to cry, or *HAD BEEN crying*. -And probably had been; his eyes were red and raw-looking behind his glasses, and his lightly-stubbled cheeks salt-stained. "I am SO, *so very SORRY* for all that I've put you through because of my *SELFISHNESS*- *my DRUNK MADNESS AND GRIEF*! *AWFUL sorry* that you had to go through and along with my delusions of a happy little family reunited. But- But *I PROMISE*- it- it will all be *OVER* soon, 'bambolotta'. *VERY soon*..."

"What- What're ya talkin' about, Papa??" Carlo replied, trying for an innocent carefree laugh but half-failing. "What're you 'sorry' for? *YOU haven't done anything wrong*!"

Now big fat raindrops of tears were leaking from Papa's eyes and spilling down his cheeks as he fell to his knees, still attempting to hide whatever it was he was holding behind his back. Alarm bells, siren wails, and conscience chirrups of 'DANGER, *danger*, *DANGER*!!!!' blared in the back of Carlo's head along with the chilling haunting song 'Amen' from 'Frankenstein: A New Musical', but still he came over to his father's side and gave him a warm hug.

"I- *I did*, 'piccolo burattino' ...but I'm finally going to make this right, and end your suffering."

'*End (his) suffering*'??? And why was he *NOT returning* his son's embrace, seeming *so SAD*, and calling Carlo 'little doll' and 'little pup-'??

Once again, Carlo was jarred from his swirling churning whirlpool of thoughts and feelings- this time, by a *sharp 'click'* and sinister sizzling sound like the hiss of a snake, followed by a just-as-ominous *FLARE*. The sound of *a FLAME*-

Frightened as he'd never (so far) been in his life, Carlo shifted into his puppet state complete with his faerie wings and donkey ears and tail, jumped back, and raised his hands in front of him while shouting in fear, anger, and betrayal, "Pr-'*Protego*'!!!"

Instantly, a magical purple shield snapped before him, acting as a partial wall to protect him from someone whom he'd used to believe he'd *NEVER* NEED protecting from, much less *want*. Someone whom he *LOVED* and TRUSTED- *his OWN FATHER*...
His own father who was *holding a FLARING LIGHTER in his hand* in order to- to- t-to-

*KILL him*. *Burn him up until he was nothing but ashes, cinders, and soot*. -GET RID OF him!!! *HIM*! *Hisownsonhisowndearbelovedchildhisownfleshandblood*...!!

Carlo's own blue eyes BURNED with/from tears as he felt both fiery-hot and ice-cold and like he was going to be sick, his soul *HURTING* like never before as a sweet beautiful living dream became *a dreadful horrible terrible WAKING NIGHTMARE*. "N-*No*. *NO*!!! Wh-*WHY*, Papa??!?" he spat out, his voice trembling as much as his small body.

"Don't- Please don't call me 'Papa'. You're not- *you're not my son*. I'm- I'm not your father. NOT TRULY."

"What- What d' ya MEAN, I'm *NOT your son* n' you're not my father??! Y-*Yes, I am*!"

"You're not- *You're not REAL*. Not- Not like my perfect beautiful boy -my shining golden sun, my little pinecone- was."

"But- I *AM Carlo*!! Y-*You said so yourself*! You- You called out my name the night I woke up!"

"'Povere piccolo burattinaio', didn't- Did you not ever wonder why you woke up *on MY WORKBENCH* a la Mary Shelley's 'Frankenstein', and not in a bed?? Or why you have neither *trace memories* nor possess ones trying to break free or slip through?"

In the very back of his confused fuzzy-yet-blank mind, he had. But he'd pushed it back, not deeming it important when Father was *so HAPPY* to see him again. -Maybe he shouldn't have...

"I- *I was wrong*. *I LIED*!! Me, whom they call 'good Geppetto', so peerless, kind, and honest- *I lied*! To you- *to ALL OF THEM*! My son Carlo *died twenty years ago* in that accidental STUPID *FOOLISH* *IDIOTIC church bombing*! He ran back in to get his perfect pinecone with all of its scales ...and *he never came back out*.
"You're- Y-You're just a puppet I made out of a foolish stupid drunk attempt to try and bring him back. One who- who strangely *came alive* just after I finished carving you... But- But you're *NOT him*, you *NEVER WILL* be him -my Carlo-, and it was *the MOST STUPID* decision I ever made to try and replace him because I wanted and want him back *SO BADLY*!! Just- Just come here like a good boy, and- *I'll fix it*. Rectify my mistake as Signore Victor tried to do with his where the Creature/Monster With No Official Name was concerned! You won't- You won't be confused, upset, worried, or have to hurt or worry about me anymore, little toy who thinks/believes himself a boy..."

Just then, there was a near-blinding flash of scarlet light, another *ANGRY* sizzling flare that was practically *red lightning*, a whisping haze of red smoke or mist, -and right between puppet and woodcarver appeared a beautiful winged woman with long thick silky hair the color of darkest chocolate, glittering deep green eyes, smooth clear alabaster skin dusted with freckles, rosy cheeks, a rounded-heart face with a tiny perfect nose and Cupid's-bow mouth painted a bright vivid scarlet, and clad in a one-shouldered low-cut gown the reddest of silks studded with sparkling rubies and small matching red feathers, the latter embellishment matching the single longer crimson plume tucked into the right side of her hair. Her satin heeled slippers matched her gown sans jewels and feathers, she wore a choker-necklace of black pearls around her slender milk-white throat, her wand was so dark a shade of red it seemed black with a single small round ruby crowning the tip like a bead of drawn blood, and her wings seemingly formed out of SMOKE AND SHADOW rather than pure white feathers or butterfly-shaped slivers of moonlight tinged with a colorful shimmer of rainbow. -Her face, hairstyle, and slender frame all seemed familiar to the Creation child, though he didn't know why...

Angrily, she swished and waved her wand, making the lighter in F-Pa-Geppetto's hand disappear. Her beautiful eyes were alternately BLAZING with fury and awash with sorrow, regret ...and strangely enough, *love*.

"To think that YOU would *EVER* stoop to *a HEARTLESS'S* level!!!" she snarled akin to a lioness or tigress protecting her cubs. "To stoop to something of *MY level*, whether I was human or Fae...! Heartbreak *DOES change people*, and not always for the better. I thought that YOU would be very different ...*my mistake*, apparently. CHIARA is truly more of a saint *than YOU*, where once you both tied for First Place in Who's the Most Goody-Two-Shoes in Pariva!
"And *wooden or no*, I thought that you loved *ALL children*! They are 'the future of the world', after all; for YOU to *HARM OR KILL* one...!"

"Sig-'Signora Fata', pl-PLEASE! 'Per favore'! You *MUST let me* rectify my mistake so that neither of us will have to hurt anymore!" Geppetto pleaded, holding out his hands to her. "Much as I wish it, he is not Carlo-!"

"But he is STILL *your child*- your responsibility!" 'Signora Fata' responded angrily. "*YOUR creation*, Signor Frankenstein! And he *LOVES* you! *Truly loves you* just as much as you did him since this time this life you *stepped up and took care of him*...!"

Carl- no, '*Pinocchio*', he was *REALLY TRULY* 'Pinocchio'- timidly coughed, turning the adults' attention towards him. Now he gave into his nervous fidgeting to a point, still keeping the 'Protego' shield up just in case. "Miss- M-Miss Faerie?"

"'Si, bambino'?" she replied, her melodic voice and beautiful eyes becoming slightly softer and warmer.

"I- I- I f-feel like I *RECOGNIZE you* from s-somewhere, o-or my heart does. You're- You're talkin' t' Father l-like *you know him*... Wh-*Who are you*?"

Now *HER OWN bloodstone/jade-green eyes* glittered with TEARS, the dark sorrow and regret in them intensifying even more. "...Once I was simply the bakers Anna and Alberto Belmagio's younger daughter and youngest child Ilaria Alberia Belmagio. Now I am mainly known these days as 'the Scarlet Faerie' or 'Cleo del Mar the Crimson Nightingale of Esperia' ...and I am also *your mother*, to a point, as your father and I were once in love and semi-courting in our youths. *Semi*, because he was so shy and bashful...
"It's why you're part Faerie as well as a Creation, because I am a faerie too- and so is your aunt Chiara the Blue Faerie. I'm not too sure about the donkey ears and tail; a case of 'magic is as magic does'??"

Pinocchio's fractured confused anguished heart churned and thundered against his currently-wooden torso. He bit his lip so hard that had he been human right then, he would have bled. This new revelation SHOULD be nothing but *WONDERFUL*- make him want to jump or dance for joy, happily cry '*Mamma*!!', rush right into her arms, and give her *the BIGGEST* tightest warmest hug while letting himself be lovingly tenderly cradled and rocked as she embraced him back-

But this wasn't just a beautiful sweet fairytale or Hallmark movie; it wasn't that easy and simple- *NOWHERE NEAR so*. It *should have* been... Yet it *NEVER COULD BE*- not for someone like him. Not when he was truly after all more *Dottore Frankenstein's Monster* than either a Nutcracker Prince, Swan Queen or Maiden, Anya Romanov, or Snowskin... Not when the fairytale was MUCH DARKER akin to Hans Christian Andersen's sadder more harsh stories, the non-'cleaned up' Brothers Grimm tales, and those of Basille if not flat-out turning into *a HORROR STORY*. -Not when it seemed like green-eyed brunette LONG-LOST *Signora Elizabeth Lavenza* had something *DARK AS DARK* to hide, confess, or both herself to a much-younger less scarred and 'ugly' Creature.

He gulped and bit his lower lip again, clutching his arm so hard that the wood actually creaked a bit. "Your- *YOUR eyes* are SCREAMIN' 'I'm sorry' t' me, too- but you're- You're not tryin' t' *hurt* me..." he said quietly, both wary and apprehensive.

"Now, NO- *NEVER*. ...But I DID *USED TO wish you ill*, I must admit," the Faerie With Sephia Hair and Clad In Scarlet replied in near hushed whisper.

Another whip-lash across his face and over his heart. *He KNEW IT*. He just KNEW that it couldn't and wouldn't be *anything close to* simplesweeteasy, what with *HIS much-changed life*-!!

"Wh-*Why*???" he tearfully cried out aloud again with a crack in his voice- though more softly than before. "I- I was- *I was just a child*! An- An innocent 'bambino'!"

"Your 'zia' Chiara was chosen and invited to become a Wishing Faerie due to her great kindness that went above and beyond what most/many would care to do. -I was not. I was alternately tricked into and made a deal with an evil faerie known as a 'Heartless' to become one myself ...though not entirely. I removed my heart and therefore received my dark powers, -but during a fierce argument between us, Chiara snatched my heart I'd stored in a music-box that your father made for me for the moment and stopped me from destroying it and becoming a Heartless in truth. And she's kept it with her for forty years now...

"The Wishing Faeries have three vital rules that *can-NOT* be broken. One- they are not allowed to grant wishes from their hometown. Two- they cannot bring TRUE *ACTUAL life* to an inanimate object; say, a statue or a puppet. Three- they must *ALWAYS* discuss possible wishes to be granted with their fellow Fae and NEVER try to grant one in secret. Your Aunty Chia, so sainted and perfect, almost *broke ALL THREE* the night you came to life. I heard and saw her while out on my own 'rounds'. I- I would have blackmailed her into making a wager concerning you and my heart: if you proved yourself worthy enough to become a 'real boy', then I would help Chiara grant your father's wish he'd made on the Wishing Star and take my heart back to *NOT destroy it*. -If *I* won, however, ...then you would have faded away back into a lifeless puppet, and I would have taken *CHIARA'S heart* in order to make her like me.

"I- I would have ch-CHEATED, *and hor-HORRENDOUSLY*, in order to try and win the bet! En-Enlisted the help of the Heartless' si-SICK MONSTERS of h-henchmen to l-lead you astray and d-down Temptation's path- not- not cared if you should d-d-die or b-be hurt in the process because you wouldn't *be WICKED* should an ax-blade hit you in the heart or a bullet fell you, after all. You'd- You'd only be d-DEAD- or- or *a DONKEY*, had the Coachman fully had his way! But- But I know better, now- *know YOU* better, to a point. You would have *done ANYTHING* to find and save your father- even if it cost your life..."

Pinocchio swallowed hard and stimmed more than he ever had before as he processed all of this, realizing something that made him feel even more sick with grief, horror, and betrayal. "You- You were gonna br-bring me back with- with Miss Chiara's help because I was only h-*HALF-alive* to b-begin with. *P-Pull a Fr-'Frankenstein' yourself*... You thought- You thought/b'lieved I had n-NO HEART- n-*no SOUL* because- I was only a silly stupid naive little puppet; n-*NOTHING* would make up for my *LACK OF a heart*-!
"And- And then you would've taken *YOUR heart* back after I'd proved m'self enough..."

Miss Ilaria -his *'madre'*; the ORIGINAL *GENDER-SWAPPED* Frankenstein in his case/this story!!!- nodded silently, the tears that had been shimmering in her own eyes now trickling/leaking down her smooth cheeks. "I would have lost my powers and aged forty years, because I was never meant to be a Wishing Faerie or a Heartless. And when the Forgetting Spell had lifted, then Geppetto and I would have met up again, and he never would have known the *TRUE story* unless I told him. Known what I DID and almost did to a sweet innocent child, wooden or no..."

Pinocchio shuddered, clamping his hands over his trembling mouth. "And- And h-had I gotten badly hurt somehow in the process, you- you would've thought that it was *all my own fault* for not listenin' t' Sebastian or something when- wh-when *YOU* were th' one who would've placed whomever in my path while goin' to school in- in order t' CHEAT...!" he pieced together in *horror, horror, HORROR*.

He sobbed raggedly and felt his heart 'CRACK' when she didn't deny it. LEAVE- *he HAD TO* *LEAVE*! *Right now*! Leave PARIVA and *ITALY ENTIRELY*...! He couldn't stay here any longer, or he'd be KILLED- *DESTROYED*, and *by his own father*...

"I- *I HATE YOU*!!!" he cried brokenly, now sounding more like a furious wounded animal than a young boy. "*I hate you BOTH*!! I- *I LOVED you*, Father! And I thought- I thought that Carlo or someone else, you would always and forever UNCONDITIONALLY love me too! But- But since 'm *NOT Carlo* 'n NEVER WILL BE, you- you wanna p-*put me down* like Old Yeller with rabies! And- And YOU used t' *HATE me* even though I did NOTHING to you save for *EXIST*, M-'Madre'! Hate me b'cause you've never liked children- or at least never wanted *any of your own*, and because I showed proof that Z-Z-Zia Chiara had br-broken The Rules! You would've- Y-*You would've tried t' HURT OR KILL me*- *CHEAT ON* that never-made bet with Zia Chiara until you had a sudden change of heart or something...!
"Even- Even if I *were* nothin' more than a wooden puppet brought t' life by a faerie and n-*NEVER* b'comin' 'Real' i.e. human, it's *MY life*, and I choose to LIVE- not die! You may have both kinda made me, Signor Eleazar Lavenza and Signora Victore Frankenstein the Second/Reborn, but you *do NOT* get t' make these kind 'f decisions for me! Not whether I exist or get burned up! S-So, t-T. T. F E.- *ta-ta FOREVER*, 'Madre e Padre'!!"

And with that snapped/screamed/sobbed-out last, Pinocchio wildly flapped his wings and fast flew out the open window with a shell-shocked horrified sickened Sebastian in tow and scalding bitter tears *raining* down his cheeks, not taking a single thing with him. After casting an invisibility spell in order not to be screamed at, stoned, burned, chopped up into firewood, or snatched away by unscrupulous strangers out to make a quick 'lira' one sickening way or another, he flew until he reached the shores of Esperia, then dove into the water and both blindly and furiously swam with all of his might away from Italy altogether once he'd bobbed to the surface of the Lyre Sea. He didn't know where he'd end up, and he honestly didn't care so long as it was as FAR AWAY from Pariva and Esperia as possible- away from Heartless Faerie cheating and *lying lying LYING* child-killer semi-mothers and fathers who wanted nothing more than to *DESTROY* you for some horrible awful 'reason' or another...

%She'd left a letter explaining all to Chia inside the broken music-box in place of her heart which she'd taken back- but not to destroy any longer. It turned out that Larissa and Amorale *WERE able to be killed*, with a dash of protective magic added to her disabling and trapping blow. They'd instantly *SHATTERED* and turned to smoke with a long piercing scream the moment it hit them; *gone for good* *and EVER*, good riddance...
The Coachman was now a smelly brown donkey himself sentenced to work in the salt-mines, and Pleasure Island and his shadow goons had been destroyed, all of the lost children becoming human again. Honest John, Gideon, and Stromboli were now all in jail, there to stay for the rest of their lives with terrible horrendous nightmares to boot. Monstro had been magically euthanized. -*NONE of them* would *EVER* come near or hurt hers and Chia's precious little star, now or in the future.

He *HATED* her- could *NEVER forgive her* for what she would have done and almost did to him all to get her heart back, destroy it, and become a *TRUE Heartless*. That *HURT* more than even her rejection from the music school of her dreams- but it was completely understandable, especially after Geppetto's own awful betrayal of him. *BOTH OF Pinocchio's parents* had done him *WRONG*, and his oh-so-dear sweet gentle beloved father from DAY ONE, at that...
He was right. Sadly horribly *MORE THAN right*. She *had been* and WAS his own original gender-flipped Dr. Victor Frankenstein, never mind that *SHE HERSELF* hadn't intended to reanimate the dead. Like the mad obsessed Swiss actually-*doctor-IN-TRAINING*, she had felt and believed that *little minds* had *belittled HER DREAM*- had abandoned her own practical-son from the start, even if for different reasons-!

But now, she would *make it ALL* right where she was concerned. When she took her heart back and placed it where it belonged ...she would die. Not because she would then be so old or sickly (only fifty-eight to Geppetto's sixty), but as punishment for her horrid plans, thoughts, and actions that had almost been inacted against a pure-hearted sweet-souled innocent little wooden boy. -*Her son*...

Overwhelmed by her own emotions as always, yet even more so than she had ever been, *slightly MAD* from bitter regret and utmost heartache, the younger bakers' daughter-turned-faerie equivalent of a 'Death Eater' and famous beloved opera star began to sorrowfully tearfully sing aloud- her 'swan song', so to speak. The final aria and act of The Saga of Ilaria Alberia Belmagio the Scarlet Faerie and Nightingale of Esperia...

~"I CURSE the day I felt that I was *TRULY born*-
The night my torn-out heart became *so black with hate*!
But now, to make it up to him, I'll *GLADLY* leave this life of scorn
And either seek my peace in Heaven's light or stand straight and proud at *HELL'S fiery gate*...

I have *my SINS* like anyone-
But NONE are more *DARK* than *mine and yours'*...
And because 'twas *HE* we chose to damn,
INNOCENT BLOOD will *stain our hands forevermore*...!

What's WRONG?? *What's RIGHT*??! Do *I* decide?! *Do YOU* decide??!
*Who dares to act as God*?!
-WE dared to act as gods!!

Our kind has *NO place* but THE GRAVE-
Those who cause nothing but *ETERNAL PAIN*!
*Not even a soul that can be saved*...!

The gauntlet waits- it calls to me;
May the darkness soon set him *FREE*...

*Oh, my Creator, claim me now*!
Grant to him and me this NIGHTMARE'S END...!

-And if *NO man* shall mourn for me,
I'll TRUST IN YOU...
-*AMEN*...~

"...'*Avada Kedavra*'," she rasped as slightly stinging neon-green light folded into her chest once more, looking up at the clear sun-drenched blue sky one last time.

She heard Chiara scream in horror and grief over the rapid rushing sound accompanied by the bright sickly-green light upon seeing her red heart wink out in the crystal well and felt the connection to her sister *SNAP*. -Then fem!Frankenstein AKA Ilaria Belmagio felt and heard nothing at all as she crumpled to the Lyre shore like a marionette puppet with her strings cut.

"NO!!! *ILY*!!!! *Ilaria*!!!"%