I took a deep breath. My time had come.

I stood up, went to the front of the room. "Hello," I offered, nervously. "My name is Jaime. And I am Rumpelstiltskin."

"Hi, Jaime," the crowd echoed.

I knew how this should go from a million movies and tv shows.

"I am a coward," I admitted, and I felt... release. It was the funniest thing. I had expected to feel shame. I guess some of what I felt must have shown on my face, because the audience began to applaud, and I broke down in grateful tears.

It was an unusual sort of group, modeled on the character of Rumpelstiltskin in a popular TV show, the consummate coward who had spent his entire life in the pursuit of power, power to cast his cowardice in such shadow that he would never have to admit to it ever again, so that he could believe himself above it, no longer a coward... when all he ever wanted to be was a brave man.

That was my story, certainly...though without the magic. All I had ever wanted was to be brave, and all I felt I had ever accomplished was to be fearful. I longed with all my heart to be a hero, but heroes are made through repetition, and all my repetition had accomplished was to prove myself, over and over, to have no backbone, no fortitude, to ever and always take the easiest path. To be continuously blown off course by the gale, the winds, the gusts, the slight breezes that blew in my ear of fear. The 'what ifs' and the 'you'll nevers' and the 'you can'ts.' The 'if onlys' were some of the worst, with the 'it's too late nows' a chilling finger down the spine. Fear had ruled me all my life.

"I am Rumpelstiltskin," I declared, and all that that implied. A monster, who longed to be a man. A wizard, whose only hope of salvation was to break the wand he wielded, but which, as time passed, wielded the wizard even more, bending him to its will.

And then, I took the ceremonial staff, upon which I had written my worst fears and regrets... and I broke it in two. "There is no power in these any more," I declared as I tossed the pieces on the brazier before the crowd, to whoops and hollers. I would be given the ashes later, a reminder. But as I watched the pieces burn, I felt my cowardice burn with them. Sure, there would be habits to break. But courage is a habit just as cowardice is. I would simply have to learn new habits.

Because as sure as my name is not Rumpelstiltskin, I was not a slave to cowardice any more.

A man who went solely by the name of Aurum lurked in the shadows at the back of the room. As the group broke up and drifted back for the bad coffee and stale donuts, congratulating Jaime on her breakthrough, Aurum caught her eye. He slowly and solemnly nodded, then vanished up the stairs. She thought that he looked somewhat familiar, with his long hair, aristocratic nose, and penetrating eyes, but she just couldn't place him. She shrugged to herself. She would talk to him at the next meeting. She swore she would.

Okay, so, this is an odd one, I admit. I just thought - wouldn't it be cool if there were support groups for cowards? I know I could certainly use one, sometimes. Anyone else want to start up a "Rumpelstiltskins Anonymous" group?