Unscathed

The ground smolders; everything is charred and covered in ash, the remnant embers of a dying fire peek through through the snowy layer, and the air swirls with the smell of destruction and tendrils of black smoke still float upwards. The once lush forest is blackened, razed a mile in every direction. In the center of the circle of charred earth, a mountain of rubble and crumbled brick lies glowing red, a beacon of destruction and death. And then, the debris begins to move. Bits of green become visible, as if bits of the lush forest still remain, buried but alive. Then a mass of rippling scales begins to rise out of the rubble, and it glimmers with the reflection of the last glowing embers. The debris begins to fall off of its back, and rigid back emberges, followed by two horns and a magnificent tail that clears the debris from the rest of its body. Then two wings become visible, torn and damaged, tucked up close to the figure of a now visible dragon. Its head still lowered, the wings unfurl, revealing the curled up and unconscious form of a small and fragile human sheltered under the dragon’s shielding wings. Unscathed.

The ‘Proposal’

A small girl frolics in a palace garden. She dances between the rows of yellow and pink daffodils, spring lilies, and poppies in the sweet spring air. When she trips over one of the rocks that lines the flowerbeds, her pink dress pools around her like one of the poppies. She giggles. The two women sitting in ornate chairs turn at the sound. A beautiful woman wears a tattered and worn handkerchief on her head and an old stained apron tied around her waist. She  nervously fiddles with the corner of her apron and her teeth tug at her bottom lip as she glances at the woman sitting by her side. Cruel and regal the second woman lounges  with an icy expression, dressed with long velvet robes and dripping in jewels. The beautiful woman pales as she sees her eyes narrow and something like a frigid smile creep across her face. 

“She’ll be the perfect princess. So pretty and graceful and full of joy at such a young age.”

“I’m not sure if this is the life I want for her,” the woman’s face contorts like she wants to cry or scream. Her voice raises an octave as her hands start plucking at the loose strings of her apron at a faster pace. 

“It’s not as if you have any choice.”  The icy smile never falters. The little girl begins to sing to herself, dancing and waving a branch and some flowers in the air. A loose string of clover and daisies is now woven through her ringlets. The regal woman speaks again, and turns to look at the edge of the garden. 

“Oh look! Here he comes now.” A small boy appears at the edge of the garden, and his gloomy expression is a contrast to the bright sunny aire of the garden. He snaps something rudely at the man next to him, who simply bows and walks away. “Isn’t he just darling?” But it was clear to the beautiful woman that it wasn’t a question that was meant to be answered. The beautiful woman turns to face her, and sees that the icy smile, somehow, has warmed a little bit. She shudders. 

“Will she still have a childhood? Will I still be able to see her?” 

“She’ll have the best teachers, and will have everything a princess could ever wish for. You won’t need to worry about her at all.”

‘That’s not what I asked and you know it,’ the plain woman thought to herself, surprised at the courage she had, even in her own mind. 

“But she’ll get an education?” she voiced aloud. The regal woman narrowed her eyes, but didn’t turn her gaze away from the children.

 “Why of course! She’ll learn how to embroider and stand up straight and talk and think like a proper lady. She’ll learn how to be the perfect princess.” The other woman’s brow furrowed at this, but she bit her lip and stayed silent. 

Suddenly, she heard the little girl cry and she turned to look. She started to jump up, but the woman next to her grabbed her arm in a cold, steely grip. She stared at the hand on her arm, before she looked back helplessly at the little girl. The little maiden stared teary eyed at the crushed fairy house, and the boy stood over her, unsympathetic.

Never Turning Back

I can’t help but let my eyes wander, as I soak up every ounce of greenery. The light filters through the leaves and lingers, touching everything with a soft glow. Underneath the silence, the twittering birds converse unseen in the foliage, and the brook bubbles and trips over stones and runs smoothly over my bare feet. I bend down and dip my hands in the cold water. I splash my face. The crisp coolness makes me shiver. I sigh as I straighten and continue to tiptoe through the wood. I wander aimlessly. The bits of sky and create a patchwork with the trees.. I smile as I smell flowers and look at pretty fallen leaves. The roots and stones covered in soft moss litter the forest floor, slowing my pace. I find myself in front of a giant wall of rocks, with cracks and crevices that mingle with ivy to make an almost word-like pattern. One of the crevices catches my eye. Larger and more jagged than the others, it looks big enough for me to squeeze through. I shuffle in sideways, and soon it becomes wide enough for me to walk along with ease. As the outside light behind me grows dim, I struggle to see what’s in front of me. Feeling my way along with my hands, my fingers run over the rough and cold stone walls. A cool breeze wafts from somewhere in the dark and brushes across my skin; goosebumps rise on my forearms. The faint light at the end of the tunnel brightens, and the cavern walls glow a soft grey. I blink and I step into the blinding light and tilt my face up to look at the sun. The warm rays shine on my skin. My eyes adjust, and I can hardly believe what I see. 

Before me stands a tall tower. Even though I crane my neck and squint to see the top of it, I can only make out the outline of a roughly tiled roof. The ivy-covered stones seem to go on forever. They are cracked and crumbling, only held together by the vines. I stare in awe at the towering structure and then at the field in which it stands. The ground looks like a painted sunset, covered in a carpet of flowers teeming with color. I walk gingerly through the field. The flowers and grass warm and tickle the bottoms of my feet. I’m never going back. 

Mountainside pt 1

A bay horse stands on the mountainside. Its long and silky mane nearly brushes the ground as it nibbles at the dew covered clover. The soft light of a sinking sun makes the horse look like it was dipped in gold. Two women sit on a flat rock that juts out of the steep slope, and they too, have been dipped in the sun’s gold. They sit in silence as they face the sun, soaking up the colorful painted sky as the sun sinks lower and lower. One woman sits with her arm behind a maiden, her palm flat on the rock, and her arm serving as a resting place for the maiden. She had high cheekbones and long honey colored hair. Her shoulders are draped in an elegant emerald green cape with a gold pendant around her neck that lies on her chest.. The maiden, with choppy brown hair and a dust covered blue dress leans her head on the woman’s shoulders. No words pass between them, there is nothing that needs to be said. Their lives are not on this mountain. Only the sun that sinks lower and lower, the clover and a golden horse.

The market

The maiden sits stiffly in a chair, her back unnaturally straight. She sighs and her head lolls to the side as she stabs at her embroidery. She scowls at the outline of a crude apple. An old nurse sits beside her, dozing off in her creaky rocking chair and waking only to chide the maiden’s sloppy stitches or slouchy posture. The princess stares out the window at the blue sky, the magic air with the glow that spring brings floats into the stuffy room on the warm breeze. She nurses bobs, and her chin hits her chest. The maiden gingerly places down the embroidery hoop and tiptoes out of the room, painfully quiet. She glances from side to side before she dashes around the corner and out a window, her fingers gripping the worn out spots in the woods from the thousand escapes before this one. 

She runs down a sunlit slope. The soft clover and poppies cover the field in a blanket of color, and she breathes in the smell of spring. She comes to a short stone wall and scrambles over it. A loose stone snags her dress. She hears the hem of her dress rip, but keeps climbing. Picking an apple that hangs low from her favorite tree next to the wall, she shoves it into the secret pocket stitched into her dress, the one she was supposed to use for makeup or fans. The mare likes these apples best. She heads to the large building that is the royal stables, with shining marble floors and rows and rows of magnificent stallions. She looks around again, and tiptoes into a stall. Stroking the nose of a plain bay mare who makes a soft noise in response to her touch, she pulls out the now slightly bruised apple, and hands it to the horse.  It quietly munches on it as she saddles the horse with painstakingly care, and grabs a satchel secretly stored under the hay in the stall. In a few moments she and the horse fly over the hills in the direction of the quaint town near the castle. 

She reaches the edge of the town and ties the mare to a gnarled oak tree outside a local tavern.  merry music can be heard and the shouts and laughter of people dancing and enjoying themselves. She enters the gates and immediately finds herself in the midst of throngs of people who elbow and cram their way into the street market. She moves through the crowd, and stops at stalls along the way. Picking up a peach, she presses her thumb into it slightly and smelling it, before dropping a copper coin in the hand of the man behind the small, and placing a few of them into the satchel tied around her waist. 

She picks up a loaf of bread and knocks on it as she raises it to her ear, and smells it too. She grabs a hunk of cheese and she smiles at a stand owner, a tall lanky man with a warm smile, as she hands him several silver coins. He nods at her as she moves away from his stall towards that of an elderly woman with wrinkles from smiling too much around her eyes, and long silver hair in the neighboring stall. The woman greets her warmly, her arms outstretched as the maiden practically runs into them. The woman turns to pick up a parcel and hands her a small jar of jam and some honey. The maiden kisses her on the cheek and wraps her arms around her tightly.

“I’ll be back next week!” She calls out to the women before she moves away and on through the market. 

The Ball

I lean against the terrace railing and look up into the vast expanse of solid black. I don’t want to be here. This is not where I belong. I feel tears begin to well up in my eyes. I try to blink them away. Just when I fear tears will start cascading from my eyes, I hear a rustling and then a Psst from the bushes below the terrace. My heart skips a beat, and I sniffle back the tears. 

“Is that you?” 

“Of course it’s me. Come down here.” I turn back to face the party going on inside. The light pouring from the open doors, the beautiful music, the laughter of the party guests. I turn back to the dark, hike up my long ball gown, and climb over the railing. My dress flows through the air and lands around me with a plop as I hit the ground. There she stands, in a long green tunic, and her eyes sparkle deep amber, reflecting the light from the ballroom. 

She reaches me with several long strides, developing me in her arms and kissing my forehead. 

“Dance with me” I whisper and I’m almost surprised she hears me. Almost. We start swaying slowly, rocking back and forth to the soft music that drifts on the breeze. We begin to waltz as the music picks up and soon we are spinning through the rows of flowers, their darkened colors becoming a blur around me. We’re laughing and trying to keep our voices down only makes us laugh harder. Soon we’re doubled over and the dancing has stopped, but the music hasn’t. She bends down and picks up a daffodil and then stoops down on one knee. 

“M’lady” she hands the flower to me. It’s delicate and about 100 shades of yellow. I hold it up and breathe the smell of it in. And then we’re both laughing again at our foolishness. 

We find ourselves lying in the grass, somewhere in between the rows of tulips and daffodils. I sigh and rest my head on her chest, fiddling with the pedals of the daffodil she picked for me. 

“I never want this to end.”

Safe Honey

I feel the cool shadow spread over my bare shoulders but never hear her enter at the window sill. I turn around and wipe my hands on my sweater, as I smile up at her. Her large frame blocks out the sun that shines through the window. I have to squint to make out her face in the shadow she creates. She slinks into the room and my eyes adjust to see her clearly. Large honey-roasted eyes filled with kindness as her claws etche more chinks into our hardwood floor. Her pearly white horns clunk the wooden beams on the ceiling as she sits back on her haunches and holds out her claws to me. The scales around her eyes turn up in a recognizable smile. I grab her hands and help her shrug off her scales, as one would help someone take off her coat. One more shake and she’s done, the scales and claws melt away and reveal the soft skin beneath. She smiles at me, her still golden eyes shining and matching her long hair that climbs down her back. She stands there look down at me, and she looks like a goddess in a flowing garment that matches the scales that covered her from head to toe moments ago. She still towers above me, and while the horns on her head have been replaced with flowing golden hair, her head still almost brushes the wooden beams on the ceiling. Her claws are gone but her soft hands still envelope mine in a firm grip. I feel a frown flicker across my face as I reach up and pick a single piece of white ash out of her hair. I gulp before I croak out the words. 

“They were back for me again today?” I pose the question but I already know the answer. She smiles softly at me but her soft features can’t hide the sparks of anger and sorrow in her eyes. The world goes dark as she pulls me close and wraps her arms around my head. She strokes my hair and buries me into her chest. Even if it’s just for a moment, I don’t fight her and let all of our worries melt into a molten puddle of gold and honey.

Escape

A shadowy figure with a cloak that flows behind them tiptoes through a garden with marble statues and a fountain and well manicured flower beds. The figure glances over their shoulder, and the light from the castle windows illuminates the face of a young maiden. She turns back into the darkness, and continues to move through the garden. She reaches out to touch the tips of the flowers as she walks by, and looks up at the moon. She picks a yellow daffodil and smells it, before she holds it close to her chest. She reaches the end of the garden, and stops in front of a large stone wall. She stops and once again turns around to face the castle with big windows that glow and cast a soft light across the lawn. The music from the ballroom floats in her direction on the breeze, and she pauses to remember the times when she danced to this same music in this same garden. She faces forward again, and breathes deeply. She steeles herself before she climbs over the high wall and drops to the ground on the other side. She walks boldly into the woods and gnarled branches, and disappears into the darkness. The daffodil lays on the ground on the other side of the wall, limp and lifeless, illuminated by the lights from the castle.