Goldinarcs and the Three Empaths

goldinarc

 

Once upon a time, there was a narcissist called Goldinarc. She went for a walk in the Forest of Empathy as she had heard that there were always some fresh victims she could find there. Pretty soon, she came upon a beautiful cottage. She didn’t bother knocking, she never did and in accordance with her sense of entitlement she just pushed the door open and walked in.

She found the interior to have all the trappings of empathy. There was a large doormat with welcome written on it, there were various books about spirituality, self-improvement and the universe on a set of shelves and the décor was relaxing and not showy.

“I wouldn’t live here myself,” she sniffed as she wandered through the rooms until she entered the kitchen where she saw three bowls of soup on the table. Feeling hungry and knowing that she had an inalienable right to commandeer the resources of another, she tasted the soup from the first bowl.

“Yuk, what a cheap and nasty tasting soup,” spluttered Goldinarc and she tipped the soup onto the floor smiling at the dismay the owner of the house would experience and thus she gained some Thought Fuel. She moved on to the next bowl.

“Urrgh cabbage soup, clearly someone is trying to lose some weight, obviously not as beautiful as me. I do not need to eat this crap,” she announced and poured the contents on the floor also.

Goldinarc turned to the third bowl. This bowl was beautifully designed and set with precious stones. A silver spoon rested in it and Goldinarc scooped up a mouthful of the soup.

“Oh that is delicious, a bowl of Buddha Jumps Over the Wall. Yum yum.” Goldinarc ate it all up. When she had finished she suddenly felt restless and annoyed.

“I enjoyed that soup but whoever made it thinks they can make better soup than me. I hate them!” So in a fit of ignited fury she smashed the ornate bowl on the floor and bent the silver spoon in her mouth before dropping it on to the table.

After scoffing the bowl of Buddha Jumps Over the Wall soup, Goldinarc decided she needed to sit down and watch some television. She moved to the living room and found a small wooden stool.

“I am not sitting on that, that is a stool for a peasant,” she sneered and slammed her foot down on it, breaking the wooden stool.

Her eyes alighted on an armchair with a cushion which looked rather comfortable. She tried it but if felt lumpy. Scowling, Goldinarc jumped up and ripped the cushion apart as she called the chair names, slashing at the fabric with her long, red nails.

Just then she saw a throne.

“Aha, that is far more to my taste,” she remarked. She settled on the throne and felt most at home as she imagined how people would admire her as she sat resplendent and noble. After a while however she became bored because there was nobody there to see what she was doing so she stood up and took a knife from the kitchen. She carved her name into the throne.

“Now, since it obviously belongs to me, everyone will know it is mine and therefore nobody else is allowed to sit in it,” she said smugly.

Goldinarc gave a yawn. All this malicious behaviour was tiring but she also felt weak because nobody was around to see her machinations, so she decided that she would head upstairs and have a nap to await the owners of the cottage who would surely be home soon and available to provide her with some fuel.

Once upstairs, Goldinarc found three bedrooms. She entered the first and found a very small bed in an extremely tidy room.

“That bed is no use to anybody, pathetic!” she declared and tipped it over before knocking over the carefully placed bottles, books and other trappings of the bedroom’s owner, making a right old mess.

She went into the second bedroom and found a bed of nails on the floor.

“Hmm,” mused Goldinarc, “this must be a Martyr’s bedroom but there is no way I am sleeping on that.” She hitched up her skirt (and she never wore panties since she was such a slut) and peed over the bed of nails.

“Try sleeping with that pong!” laughed Goldinarc.

Goldinarc went to the third bedroom and pushed open the door to see a massive bed and inside of it lay seven small men.

“Oi!” shouted Goldinarc causing the dozing men to wake with a jolt.

“Aren’t you in the wrong story?” she asked as the bewildered little men all sat up and stared at her.

“Begging your pardon miss, we were just having a rest, we will be on our way right this moment and out of your story,” said one, a handsome fellow with shining eyes.

“Not so fast,” grinned Goldinarc as she closed the door behind her, “You are just what I have been looking for!”

“Please miss, we had best be getting back to our mistress, she will be worried about where we are,” remarked another of the men who had a carefully trimmed beard and a diamante ear-ring. The men started to move, trying to clamber out of the sumptuous bed.

“Oh I don’t think so,” cried Goldinarc, “I know who you are.”

Goldinarc then pointed at each of the little men as she called out their names.

“Soulmate! Angel! Light of my life! Flower in bloom! The One! Saviour! My True Love!”

As she said each name, the little men each became transfixed, a loving and helpless look coming over their faces as they were ensnared by the charm of Goldinarc. Smiling, Goldinarc started to remove her dress as she made her way to the bed and the waiting little men.

Some time later Goldinarc lay in the centre of the bed surrounded by the exhausted little men all of whom had fallen asleep once again, drained of their fuel. Goldinarc was asleep also, a smile of contentment plastered on her lips, her golden hair spread out across the pillow as she slept the sleep of the righteous.

Meanwhile, the Three Empaths, Honesty, Decency and Integrity, had arrived home at their cottage after a day of assisting at the soup kitchen, collecting for an orphanage charity and feeding stray animals on the streets of a nearby town. They were jolly hungry after their charitable exertions and made straight for the kitchen.

“Goodness me, someone has thrown my Pauper’s Broth, on the floor,” remarked Honesty.

“Goodness me, someone has thrown my Cabbage Soup, on the floor as well,” remarked Decency.

“Goodness me, someone has eaten up all my Buddha Jumps Over the Wall and smashed my bowl! And bent my spoon! ” said Integrity.

They made their way to the living room in search of clues as they were all truth seekers.

“Oh my, someone has smashed my Virtuous Yet Useless Stool,” cried Honesty.

“Oh my, someone has shredded the cushion on my old comfy chair and torn huge tears in my armchair!” cried Decency.

“Oh my, someone has etched the name Goldinarc into my throne, who would do such a thing?” declared Integrity.

“Someone called Goldinarc, just a guess,” said Honesty quietly.

In search of the vandal, the Three Empaths went upstairs.

They reached the first bedroom.

“Oh heaven to Betsy,” cried Honesty as she looked in on her overturned bed and trashed bedroom, “the Feng Shui has been desecrated!”

They reached the second bedroom.

“Sweet Jesus and the baby orphans,” cried Integrity as she smelt the ammonia of Goldinarc’s urinary insult, “my room stinks!”

They reached the third bedroom and tentatively pushed the door open to see the naked Goldinarc surrounded by the seven naked little men. Goldinarc awoke instantly and stared at the Three Empaths.

“Poor thing, she has no room at all with all those dwarves hogging the bed,” cried Honesty.

“Poor thing, she will catch a chill without some night clothes,” cried Decency.

“Poor thing, judging by the looks on those dwarves’ faces, they have stolen her innocence,” cried Integrity.

“Damn right!” cried Goldinarc seizing the moment and putting her hands to her face in mock horror, “these evil little bastards poured soup on the floor, smashed a bowl, broke a chair, ripped up a cushion, shredded an armchair, vandalised the throne, trashed a bedroom, pissed on another bed and then dragged me in here when I tried to stop them wrecking the complete cottage and had their wicked way with me. Help me, please!”

And so it came to pass that the seven dwarves received jail time for an array of crimes and the Three Empaths took Goldinarc under their wing providing her with a steady stream of fuel, traits and residual benefits but nobody lived happily ever after……

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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22 thoughts on “Goldinarcs and the Three Empaths”

  1. I was on an “empathic” forum today. Quite the group of disordered individuals. Everyone was lost, reaching for answers and suffering from multiple physical/mental ailments with no idea why. Anyone expressing frustration had their empathy questioned. Only “light and love” was accepted. “Jessica this is not a narcissist awareness group.”

    Well why the hell not!? What good are you as an empathic group with no discussion on this!

    I replied to a post that stated “only @ 200,000k people are diagnosed with NPD in the country. It’s rare so stop discussing it.” I suggested that the number was higher. Most don’t see themselves as needing to be treated which is well known. This wasn’t acceptable. I was labeled as “negative” and “you should have empathy for the narcissist and thank them for all of the things you learned. Empaths will always win against the narcissist no matter what. Light and love.”

    Come again?? After 38 years of giving all of myself to narcissists… this was insulting. I know to actually see the monster under the bed is scary. The betrayal is Hell on Earth. But it all
    comes to an end when the empath turns their back on the narcissist. If you don’t know what they are…you will be eaten alive. Rant over. Thank you for weaponizing the empaths even if it is for amusement. Glad to be back home.

    1. You are welcome. You have identified one (of many reasons) why this place is the best for information and discussion.

    2. Holy shit, Jess!
      “Empaths will always win against the narcissist?!” Ha ha ha…empaths are getting their asses kicked. “It’s so rare” WTF, narcissists are everywhere and it is getting worse.”Light and love?!” Ha ha ha…what a joke! Only 200,000k ! Yeah right, and they are all in one city. What about the rest of the country?
      That forum is gaslighting all those empaths.

      1. I did feel abused. The empath’s gut doesn’t lie. This was my experience with counseling as well. He spent an hour trying to convince me that it was all of my mind’s making. “Give him another chance.” “How can it be that all of your partners are like that?” I wasn’t convinced ….he asked for me not to come back.

      2. Sorry, Jess
        What a crappy experience you had. All your partners are like that, because you are an empath and you are targeted. I think your counselor read, In Sheep’s Clothing. What an absolutely useless book, therapist and forum. No wonder people can’t get the help they need. And HE asked that you not return. What a jerk! Blessing in disguise. I felt abused just reading your comments.

  2. HG – thanks for cloaking that in humour. Because the truth of it burns.

    You don’t need to hear it, when it comes to the quality of your writing, but I feel impelled to say it – when you’re good, you’re *good*.
    Also, loving the faery tale themes.

    1. Oh my gawd, lol. I get these comments into my inbox, and sometimes I can’t see who is being “replied to”… so imagine my SHOCK at you calling me a slut.

      1. Hahahaha!!! XO 💖😄 Thanks for the laugh, but it’s all hg… i was quoting him 😉

      2. K~~It’s great that while we’re learning from HG (“Sir Master Manipulator”), we can also have so many laughs on this site. It’s very healing + just darn fun!

        As a sidenote, did you notice that Jasmine didn’t even flinch when I called her a trollip?

        Hmmm, interesting, very interesting…

        😉

      3. Caroline
        Ha ha ha…the laughing and humor really do help with the healing process and it makes the learning easier. Jasmine may have built up an immunity to nasty narc-name-calling; I did. Trollip is almost funny like tart, hussy or harlot.

  3. Sounds about right…Never satisfied and leave mess and destruction everywhere they go.

    Glinda the good witch should have been there to throw water on her….I’m melting. Good!

    However, in all fairness, HG you provided a good bedtime story.

  4. As the scene fades to black and a singular credit rolls…

    Tinkerbell flies in — tosses a handful of glitter into the air — and, real crabby-like, barks:

    “And that’s the damn end to another enlightening HG bedtime story. Sweet dreams, all you sickeningly good Empaths.”

    (pink-and purple swirly wand wave…poof).

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