Anonymity (featured on the “Fairy Tales for Unwanted Children’s Podcast)

One morning, a Prince woke up. This, in itself, was not unusual, for he had woken up every morning since his birth. Today, however, he woke up to find that no one recognized him as the Prince. Waking up to anonymity should have been unusual, but this particular Prince had grown accustomed to it. The first time it happened, many years ago, he awoke to find guards at his bedside. They grabbed him and threw him into the palace cells before he could utter a word. He remained locked in the jail until the next morning, when, as he had done since birth, he woke up. This time the guards realized he was the Prince, released him, and apologized extensively. Over the next year, this occurred three more times, and each time, the Prince pleaded with his captors to look harder at his face. But everyone saw him as a stranger.

The fourth time he woke up in anonymity, he heard the guards climbing the stairs and before they could enter his room, he ran out of the palace and found his way to the nearby town. There in town, he again searched for someone, anyone that would recognize him. He wandered the streets and the villagers were confused why this young man, dressed in pajamas, would ask them if they knew who he was. The villagers, concerned, called the guards on him forcing the Prince to hide. He chose a doorway to stay for the night and in the morning, a beggar with whom he shared the doorway with shook him awake. As the Prince turned toward the man, a look of surprise and fear spread across the man’s face and the Prince knew that he had returned to being himself. Winding his way through town, he saw familiarity return to the faces that a mere 12 hours ago brushed him aside. He wandered back to the palace and beginning to understand the circumstances, the Prince told his servants that some days a stranger, a friend of the Prince, would be in his room though the Prince himself would not. They were not to worry and would no longer need to send guards.

A few weeks later, the Prince again awoke in anonymity. This time, without the Palace guard chasing him, he was able to plan. After dressing and taking some coin, he decided he would go to town and test this strange affliction. Entering the town, he began his experiment by verbally reprimanding the first beggar he came across. He yelled for an hour about the hygiene and the deplorable condition of the beggar and reduced the man to tears. Satisfied that an impression had been left, the Prince spent the night in a nearby inn. As the morning light showed the world his true self, the Prince found the same beggar and asked what he remembered of the man who berated at him the day before. “Average height, my lord,” said the beggar “blonde, maybe brown hair, but could have been black. His face seems to escape me as does his size. Strangely, sir, the more I try to remember him, the less detail I seem to recall.” “So, nothing like me?” asked the Prince. “No, but I could not rightly say, sir. But no, no not you,” stammered the beggar. The Prince gave the man more gold than an average man made in a month and sent him on his way. The Prince went back to the palace and waited for the next morning of anonymity, satisfied that he could use this strange power for good.

So that is how it started. Occasionally, the good Prince would wake up with no one able to recognize him. He then would spend the day outside the palace, walking through town as a shadowed stranger. At first, he would just wander town and stay at the Inn, watching and interacting with the people who had been so removed from him his whole life. He saw the quaint, yet happy, lives these people enjoyed. He also saw how the decisions he and his family made directly affected the people under their rule. He used this knowledge to better influence rulings and become not only the good natured and morally straight Prince, but a ruler of the people, someone the people trusted to have their best interest in mind. On the days of anonymity, he spread happiness both in person and as the Prince. He gave gold to the poor, brought water and food to the infirmed, and helped finance struggling vendors. All this while taking the information gathered to better inform decisions at the high court. Things were going well for the kingdom and the Prince anonymity was the reason.

The kingdom prospered, the people became more comfortable, and the Prince was bored. There were fewer poor, the weak were healthy, and the vendors were flush with coin. The novelty of anonymity had worn off, the Prince now found himself walking through town seeking, searching for something to ignite that original excitement.

After one such walk through town, he returned to the Inn early and saw the townsfolk coming in from the fields. Fresh from a hard day’s work, the citizens were taking advantage of the entertainment the Inn provided. The Prince, first taken aback by the brazenness of the morally questionable activities, realized that tomorrow he would return to his life in the palace, but today, maybe just today, he had no responsibility and no consequences. “The gift of anonymity may be fleeting,” the Prince thought, “why not take advantage of it and spread some more joy in a more nontraditional way.” Walking up to the barman, the Prince announced he would purchase the next round of drinks for the crowd. This statement was answered with cheers and whistles and the Prince had to turn down several other patrons as they asked if he would like a drink. As the Prince took in the joy associated with helping others, the beggar he reprimanded on all those months ago approached him. The man, now glowing under the embrace of a good mead, asked the Prince if he cared to wager on a game. The Prince, embarrassed by his previous encounter with the man but realizing the beggar still could not recognize him, agreed. Unencumbered by alcohol, the Prince handedly beat the man and used the winnings to purchase the bar another round of drinks. After beating several other patrons and buying several other rounds, the Prince retired to his room, fulfilled in the fact the villagers had a night to remember.

The next morning, he was once again the Prince, but to the village, the shadowed stranger was a hero. Something about this disappointed the Prince. When he had used information collected during his anonymity, he, and only he, received the recognition. But something was different about directly helping people under the cloak of anonymity, something that itched at the Prince’s brain. The next time he woke up to anonymity, he took off to the town and entered the Inn immediately. He waited nearly the whole of the day until the workers returned from their professions and started their festivities. Cards again were the game and the Prince won frequently. Again, he paid for drinks, and again, the next morning he found his anonymous self as the most popular person in town. “Why do I do this for their enjoyment and none of my own?” the Prince asked himself as he headed to the village the next morning of anonymity. Set on spreading happiness but also wanting some of that happiness for himself, the Prince gambled on darts, cards, and dice. But when it came to drinks, he chose to partake. He drank heavily to lighten his heart and woke up the next morning a little later than usual and a little more worn than he had ever been. Nevertheless, he understood why the townsfolk gambled and drank, for he remembered how much everyone, even the Prince, enjoyed the previous night.

This went on for years, the price waking up in anonymity, running to town, celebrating all night, and returning the next. Slowly, gambling on games led to gambling on fights, light drinks led to heavy mixes and to more illicit treatments. When he won, he took the coin, and when he lost, he robbed to play again. As he began to embrace this consequence-free life, his behavior under the cloak of anonymity had grown more and more volatile and the once questionable Inn became the most reputable place the Prince would visit. He stayed in places with people unbecoming of most, but especially unbecoming of a Prince. He would intimidate bartenders to have debt removed, he played cards on loans he never expected to repay, and he had no qualms about fighting anyone who defied him. Each night got more and more corrupt and each morning the Prince would return to the palace less and less remorseful.

The shadowed stranger that would once bring joy, help the poor, assist the weak, and buy drinks was now a menace by reputation. The sight of him coming into town sent all but the roughest villagers into hiding. One night, last night in fact, the shadowed stranger played cards at the Inn, drank too much, and lost quickly. So, in what had become old hat, he walked outside and robbed the first villager to cross his path. Returning to the game, the stranger once again found his pockets empty in just a few bad hands. One more robbery and another poorly played game led the stranger to a side street where he waited. This time, opportunity was not easy. Unwilling to give up his coin, the villager the stranger chose to rob fought back and the stranger, after a night of bad loses and cheap mead, roughly threw the villager to ground and beat the man to death. As the guard hauled him away from the scene, the stranger laughed. He fell asleep on the hard, cold floor smiling knowing that tomorrow, tomorrow they would be sorry.

One morning, a Prince woke up. This, in itself, was not unusual, for he had woken up every morning since his birth. Today, however, he woke up to find that no one recognized him as the Prince. Waking up to anonymity should have been unusual, but this particular Prince had grown accustomed to it. Today, however, was different. This was the second day in a row he was not the Prince. He awoke on the hard, cold floor of a cell to a guard sharpening an axe and the sounds of angry mob outside. Awaiting the flash of recognition to come across the face of the guards and only find looks of contempt, the Prince realized that he was no longer the Prince and he was no longer anonymous. He had become the Stranger, both in his soul and in the eyes of the villagers, and the Stranger had sealed their fate the previous night. The guards grabbed the Stranger and led him through the incensed crowd to the scaffold. As they positioned his body onto the Executioner’s Block, one guard asked, quite simply “Who even are you?” The Stranger just lowered his eyes and whispered “I don’t know anymore.”