brigits_flame: Once Upon a Time
Title: Once Upon a Time
Word Count: 1,016
Notes: This was written for the June contest at brigits_flame ; the topic is "Ranch."
No one is so tired of cliché stories of heroism and romance as I, and yet, I find, even then, that these stories are timeless, forever relevant. Sometimes I think that perhaps "once upon a times" could be us, in other realities. And every once in a while, I believe that maybe dreams really do come true.
The story I tell is one possibly of love, but perhaps not. It is one of pain and sorrow and loss, yet still one of wonder and mystery and faith. This is your warning. Come forward those only brave of heart, as the hero shall come, and risk being trapped forever.
Our champion begins his journey, just like any man would, with a single step, a deep breath, and an unwavering belief in his mission. What mission is that, you may ask? Well, it may be quite obvious, as he is a prince, that his quest is to win over a princess and to return to his kingdom overlooking the sea. It, too, could be obvious that he will have to overcome amazing obstacles and display extraordinary character, which he will do, all in good time. For now, he starts his perilous journey with a cautious step, a slowly drawn breath, and the knowledge that he will return one day to claim his throne.
As every prince must, our man has his steed, which stands at his side. Partners in, well, not quite crime, they venture into the wilds. It is not long before the prince hears the cackling calls of laughter. He recognizes them as those of evil witches, and so follows the sound. He sneaks in quietly, reigning in his horse, to observe a tiny bundle in a tall tree, surrounded by the dark masks of the witches, which have only patches of even darker circles for eyes. Their great wing-like sleeves are menacing, but he is a hero, and thus must be brave.
He takes his sword, and charges. His companion rises up on its hind legs. They slash and scream, and the witches quickly fly away on the twigs of magic; they identify him correctly as the prince, and are deathly afraid. The horse attempts to follow them, and is quickly drawn into a mad and hopeless pursuit. It will return when it has chased the evil witches sufficiently far away. Then, the witches are quickly forgotten as the prince once again peers up into the branches to see a baby, its cheeks red from crying.
The tiny parcel begins to rock in the wind, and the prince must act quickly to save the baby. He contemplates climbing the tree, but sees that even the lowest branch is much too high for him to reach. It continues to rock precariously, and so the prince has little choice but to stand under the child and hope it falls into his arms. He clips his sword to his belt, and a few minutes later, the bundle breaks free, and of course, our hero catches it in the most dashing manner. He smiles into the girl's red face and coos at her.
He looks up into the sky, and realizes his little foray has taken him far from his castle, it is near night, the time of the beasts. However gallant our prince is, even he cannot stand up to the horrors of the dark. The great shadow monsters that dwell in forest caves in the daytime extend their ghastly presences all through the countryside as soon as night falls. They are the beings that have always been and will always be. They are neither good nor evil, but seek only to cover the unprotected in darkness so bleak that there is no escape.
The prince glances fearfully at the horizon. The sun is already an angry red, warning the world that it can protect them no longer, still trying to drive away the night as it sinks into its resting place to gain strength for the battle it will inevitably fight again. The prince bites his lip and grips his prize closer to his chest, and begins his trek back to the castle. Halfway home, he is finally rejoined by his steed, but he sees that the horse is too tired to carry them back, so he continues walking.
But the darkness is quickly approaching, and he must be safely inside with his precious bundle before it descends. He quickens his pace, and it becomes a battle of speed as he races over hills and across bridges with the shadows nipping at his heels. He tumbles through the grass as the castle comes into sight, and the shadows pounce upon him menacingly, ready to tear his flesh apart. But his brave horse is at his side again, urging him to rise.
The prince barely escapes. He tumbles through a side door and slams it shut behind them. The shadows can only watch in sorrow as their prey looks lovingly down at his bundle. He didn't find his fairy tale romance, but he did find his princess in the form of a baby sister.
He smiles. She laughs, cheeks still red as roses.
Alas, every story must end, and this is the end of our story. As I said, there would be loss, and thus far, you may have realized, we have only gained another companion in our travels. So here is my admittance: no story ever ends where it says it ends. The prince will not always be a prince, and all heroes eventually fall.
So our prince must give up his fairy tale story, must shed the barriers of unreality. He returns to his kingdom by the sea of wheat fields and apple trees that his father grows, his shepherd at his side, to claim his wooden throne. The queen welcomes him warmly, and dotes upon him, as only a mother would her son, takes the child from him, and says that yes, he is the apple of her eye.
And here, we must leave our hero. But do not fret, dear readers. Stories never end.
Word Count: 1,016
Notes: This was written for the June contest at brigits_flame ; the topic is "Ranch."
No one is so tired of cliché stories of heroism and romance as I, and yet, I find, even then, that these stories are timeless, forever relevant. Sometimes I think that perhaps "once upon a times" could be us, in other realities. And every once in a while, I believe that maybe dreams really do come true.
The story I tell is one possibly of love, but perhaps not. It is one of pain and sorrow and loss, yet still one of wonder and mystery and faith. This is your warning. Come forward those only brave of heart, as the hero shall come, and risk being trapped forever.
Our champion begins his journey, just like any man would, with a single step, a deep breath, and an unwavering belief in his mission. What mission is that, you may ask? Well, it may be quite obvious, as he is a prince, that his quest is to win over a princess and to return to his kingdom overlooking the sea. It, too, could be obvious that he will have to overcome amazing obstacles and display extraordinary character, which he will do, all in good time. For now, he starts his perilous journey with a cautious step, a slowly drawn breath, and the knowledge that he will return one day to claim his throne.
As every prince must, our man has his steed, which stands at his side. Partners in, well, not quite crime, they venture into the wilds. It is not long before the prince hears the cackling calls of laughter. He recognizes them as those of evil witches, and so follows the sound. He sneaks in quietly, reigning in his horse, to observe a tiny bundle in a tall tree, surrounded by the dark masks of the witches, which have only patches of even darker circles for eyes. Their great wing-like sleeves are menacing, but he is a hero, and thus must be brave.
He takes his sword, and charges. His companion rises up on its hind legs. They slash and scream, and the witches quickly fly away on the twigs of magic; they identify him correctly as the prince, and are deathly afraid. The horse attempts to follow them, and is quickly drawn into a mad and hopeless pursuit. It will return when it has chased the evil witches sufficiently far away. Then, the witches are quickly forgotten as the prince once again peers up into the branches to see a baby, its cheeks red from crying.
The tiny parcel begins to rock in the wind, and the prince must act quickly to save the baby. He contemplates climbing the tree, but sees that even the lowest branch is much too high for him to reach. It continues to rock precariously, and so the prince has little choice but to stand under the child and hope it falls into his arms. He clips his sword to his belt, and a few minutes later, the bundle breaks free, and of course, our hero catches it in the most dashing manner. He smiles into the girl's red face and coos at her.
He looks up into the sky, and realizes his little foray has taken him far from his castle, it is near night, the time of the beasts. However gallant our prince is, even he cannot stand up to the horrors of the dark. The great shadow monsters that dwell in forest caves in the daytime extend their ghastly presences all through the countryside as soon as night falls. They are the beings that have always been and will always be. They are neither good nor evil, but seek only to cover the unprotected in darkness so bleak that there is no escape.
The prince glances fearfully at the horizon. The sun is already an angry red, warning the world that it can protect them no longer, still trying to drive away the night as it sinks into its resting place to gain strength for the battle it will inevitably fight again. The prince bites his lip and grips his prize closer to his chest, and begins his trek back to the castle. Halfway home, he is finally rejoined by his steed, but he sees that the horse is too tired to carry them back, so he continues walking.
But the darkness is quickly approaching, and he must be safely inside with his precious bundle before it descends. He quickens his pace, and it becomes a battle of speed as he races over hills and across bridges with the shadows nipping at his heels. He tumbles through the grass as the castle comes into sight, and the shadows pounce upon him menacingly, ready to tear his flesh apart. But his brave horse is at his side again, urging him to rise.
The prince barely escapes. He tumbles through a side door and slams it shut behind them. The shadows can only watch in sorrow as their prey looks lovingly down at his bundle. He didn't find his fairy tale romance, but he did find his princess in the form of a baby sister.
He smiles. She laughs, cheeks still red as roses.
Alas, every story must end, and this is the end of our story. As I said, there would be loss, and thus far, you may have realized, we have only gained another companion in our travels. So here is my admittance: no story ever ends where it says it ends. The prince will not always be a prince, and all heroes eventually fall.
So our prince must give up his fairy tale story, must shed the barriers of unreality. He returns to his kingdom by the sea of wheat fields and apple trees that his father grows, his shepherd at his side, to claim his wooden throne. The queen welcomes him warmly, and dotes upon him, as only a mother would her son, takes the child from him, and says that yes, he is the apple of her eye.
And here, we must leave our hero. But do not fret, dear readers. Stories never end.