Contest: Princess and the Pea
This will probably be the only time you will see a short story of any kind on my blog. Back in the day I did them with ease. Now writing one is like . . . walking up a hill, in a snowstorm without shoes or a coat. And poetry . . . I love my flist too much to put you through that torture. My poetry stopped when I left the angsty days of high school. I am a novel gal. But for an ARC, I am willing to do my time in the snow. If you would like to participate go to the link for the rule: community.livejournal.com/merry_fates/95549.html
“Nana, tell me again,” the young girl pleaded. ‘Tell me how you and papa met.”
Thunder shook the house and lightning streaked across the sky, its glow bursting through the windows. The Queen tucked the bed covers around the little girl, trying to avoid her hopeful eyes. Looking into them reminded her of her Prince, her King . . . their love, still alive despite his death. Their story belonged in fairy tale books.
The Queen touched the child’s cheek, smiled, and began. “It was a stormy night, much like this one.” On cue, thunder rolled and crackled and lightning flashed. “My mother and I had exchanged words. She wanted me to marry this awful boy.”
“Lord Byron with greasy hair.” The girl giggled.
“Yes, his hair was quite unfortunate. Nothing like your beautiful hair of gold.” The Queen stroked her granddaughter’s hair. “I ran away from home. Which is something you should never do. Never.” She waved an admonishing finger. The girl’s eyes widened, she shook her head. “I’ll never run away from Mama.”
“Good girl. Now, where was I?”
“You’d runaway.”
“Yes, I ran away and a mighty storm descended. The rain disoriented and blinded me. Lost, I roamed the woods for sometime, cold and frightened. I will never forget how cold I felt. The chill was in my bones.”
The girl shivered and stole a glance at the window. Rain streaked down the glass.
“The trees gave way and I saw the most beautiful castle. I knew the castle well. I had admired it since I was your age.” The Queen poked the little girl’s nose. “And I was quite fond of the boy who lived there during the summer months. So handsome and kind. All the girls liked him and the boys wanted to be him. The only problem was his Mother. She selected his friends and it was rumored she had selected his wife.”
“At eight years old?” the girl questioned as if she’d heard the story for the first time instead of the one-hundredth.
“At eight years old.” The Queen leaned in. “Things were different then. You married to save your family. Your mother and I want you to marry for love.”
“I will.”
“I made my way to the house, knocked on the door, and sneezed in the servant’s face. I was so embarrassed. The servant merely ushered me in. I suppose she noticed my royal attire. As I warmed myself by the fire, I heard voices, worried and frustrated. Then I heard heavy footsteps, slow and steady. My heart raced. I feared meeting the Mother, you see? But I also feared meeting him. I liked him so. What if he did not like me? The Mother entered the study, her eyes scrutinizing me as if I were a commoner. She said I could stay the evening and they would send word to my family when the storm lifted. The servants showed me to my room for the evening. It was adorned in finery. The bed stretched to the sky, a cloud of quilts and mattresses. When I climbed on top, I thought I could touch the sky. Once alone, I drifted to sleep, rather, I tried to sleep. I kept rolling over a large bolder in the middle of the bed. I couldn’t believe that I had admired this house all my life only to discover it had uncomfortable beds. The next morning when the Mother asked me how I slept, I told the truth.” The Queen paused. “Awful.” The girl said it with her. They chuckled.
“The boy I had so admired entered the room. One look in his eyes and I forgot about my discomforts from the night before: the cold, the bolder, the lack of sleep. He smiled and I knew. From that day forward my heart belonged to him, his belonged to me. Years later I learned that his Mother put a pea in my bed. She held the belief that a true princess would feel the pea.”
“How funny. She put a pea in your bed.” The little girl’s laughter filled the room. “That is a great story, Nana.”
“I am fond of it.”
The girl’s cheeks reddened. “Nana? I like a boy at school.”
“Well let’s hope you do not have to sleep on a pea to proove he’s your true love.”
“Nana, tell me again,” the young girl pleaded. ‘Tell me how you and papa met.”
Thunder shook the house and lightning streaked across the sky, its glow bursting through the windows. The Queen tucked the bed covers around the little girl, trying to avoid her hopeful eyes. Looking into them reminded her of her Prince, her King . . . their love, still alive despite his death. Their story belonged in fairy tale books.
The Queen touched the child’s cheek, smiled, and began. “It was a stormy night, much like this one.” On cue, thunder rolled and crackled and lightning flashed. “My mother and I had exchanged words. She wanted me to marry this awful boy.”
“Lord Byron with greasy hair.” The girl giggled.
“Yes, his hair was quite unfortunate. Nothing like your beautiful hair of gold.” The Queen stroked her granddaughter’s hair. “I ran away from home. Which is something you should never do. Never.” She waved an admonishing finger. The girl’s eyes widened, she shook her head. “I’ll never run away from Mama.”
“Good girl. Now, where was I?”
“You’d runaway.”
“Yes, I ran away and a mighty storm descended. The rain disoriented and blinded me. Lost, I roamed the woods for sometime, cold and frightened. I will never forget how cold I felt. The chill was in my bones.”
The girl shivered and stole a glance at the window. Rain streaked down the glass.
“The trees gave way and I saw the most beautiful castle. I knew the castle well. I had admired it since I was your age.” The Queen poked the little girl’s nose. “And I was quite fond of the boy who lived there during the summer months. So handsome and kind. All the girls liked him and the boys wanted to be him. The only problem was his Mother. She selected his friends and it was rumored she had selected his wife.”
“At eight years old?” the girl questioned as if she’d heard the story for the first time instead of the one-hundredth.
“At eight years old.” The Queen leaned in. “Things were different then. You married to save your family. Your mother and I want you to marry for love.”
“I will.”
“I made my way to the house, knocked on the door, and sneezed in the servant’s face. I was so embarrassed. The servant merely ushered me in. I suppose she noticed my royal attire. As I warmed myself by the fire, I heard voices, worried and frustrated. Then I heard heavy footsteps, slow and steady. My heart raced. I feared meeting the Mother, you see? But I also feared meeting him. I liked him so. What if he did not like me? The Mother entered the study, her eyes scrutinizing me as if I were a commoner. She said I could stay the evening and they would send word to my family when the storm lifted. The servants showed me to my room for the evening. It was adorned in finery. The bed stretched to the sky, a cloud of quilts and mattresses. When I climbed on top, I thought I could touch the sky. Once alone, I drifted to sleep, rather, I tried to sleep. I kept rolling over a large bolder in the middle of the bed. I couldn’t believe that I had admired this house all my life only to discover it had uncomfortable beds. The next morning when the Mother asked me how I slept, I told the truth.” The Queen paused. “Awful.” The girl said it with her. They chuckled.
“The boy I had so admired entered the room. One look in his eyes and I forgot about my discomforts from the night before: the cold, the bolder, the lack of sleep. He smiled and I knew. From that day forward my heart belonged to him, his belonged to me. Years later I learned that his Mother put a pea in my bed. She held the belief that a true princess would feel the pea.”
“How funny. She put a pea in your bed.” The little girl’s laughter filled the room. “That is a great story, Nana.”
“I am fond of it.”
The girl’s cheeks reddened. “Nana? I like a boy at school.”
“Well let’s hope you do not have to sleep on a pea to proove he’s your true love.”