Sister Mine and I debated over whether He'en was ready for Sleeping Beauty. After all, Maleficient had deeply moved both of us in her time. Sister Mine says, "She scared the bejabbers out of me." I suppose that Maleficent scared the bejabbers out of me, too, but, as my coping mechanism, I channeled Maleficient and went around for quite a long time in high school being all sweepy and dramatic. The villains always had the best makeup.
Because He'en had sailed through Bambi, however, with only some minor discussion about out-of-season hunting -- we'll save the harsh reality of doe permits for another year -- we decided she was emotionally prepared to handle Maleficent in all her wonderful awfulness. So Sleeping Beauty was duly purchased, and it was duly watched, and although I had to sit with He'en during a couple "scawwy pawts," we thought that she had managed just fine.
Well, she had . . . but as soon as the closing credits concluded, she attacked me with a rabid case of the curiosities.
About what, you may ask?
The good fairies? Pssht.
Aurora? Take a number.
Prince Philip? Yawn.
No, no, my daughter wanted to know everything, and I do mean absolutely everything, there was to know about Maleficent:
How did Maleficent get her castle?
How did Maleficent get her crow?
Why are there green clouds around the castle?
Was Maleficent good once before she was evil?
Where did she get her castle guards? (Seriously.)
And at bedtime, no less.
In answer to this dire dearth of information, the Maleficent Stories were born. They have grown so numerous that I've started to forget them, so I will here record them from time to time both for reference and posterity.