even if my brain sometimes doesn't feel like my own.
I feel intensely, even when I wish I wouldn't,I was sober.
Until I wasn't.
I forgot how good wine tasted,
how good wine would make me feel.
After a rough day,
a bottle of wine greets me like a wife I never had.
Never disappointed in my being,
but always there to soothe and listen.
I was sober,
until I wasn't.
Pros of being a poet:
Cons of being a poet:
Pouring out your heart.
Today, I healed my inner teen.
She is no longer the person I wish to be,
Or wish for the world to see.
She deserves to be healed and be in peace.
I’m no longer my sixteen-year-old self,
We’ve loved, lost and grown as a person.
I feel that I am someone she’d be proud to be.
I’ve parted ways with my teen self,
I no longer wish for her naivety or a smaller waist.
But I thank her, I owe her a lot.
I thank her for being passionate and forever hopeful,
I am proud of who she was,
And who she has turned out to be.
Live for yourself,
don't live up to expectations,
Break your own heart,
don't let anyone shatter your kindness.
Always pondering,
wondering what could be.
sobbing over the never could be.
Never present,
but always full of thoughts.
the idea of you was sweeter than the reality.
I prefer the version of you,
He gives each of his lovers his entire being,
and loves them with his whole heart.
He looks for long-lasting love,
he thinks quick and easy love is a farce.
He promises complete devotion,
a kind of love you only see in old films.
He'll chase the girl across the globe
just so she'll be his world.
Mister gives her his all,
but always end ups being Mister all alone.
The cold air makes me wrap up just that little bit warmer.
The first sip of my first pumpkin spice latte of the day.
Dark mornings, and even darker evenings.
Oh Autumn, how I've missed you so.
Hello!
Prior to this trip, I hadn't spent much time writing creatively for a while. It had been months since I last sat down and wrote something for myself that wasn't work-related. Quite frankly, I was ready to get back into the swing of things and this was the perfect way to do so.
If you've been around here a while, you'll know that I went to University down in Brighton a few years ago. I loved living there and had to go back for inspiration. I booked myself a week off work and down the country I went. As much as I love Brighton, I didn't want to go down there without a plan and start writing on a blank page. So, to make sure I used my writing time wisely, I decided that I'd be writing a new story.
I had the idea of my new story idea swimming around in my head for a while, so in the weeks leading up to my journey, I planned. By planned I mean:
I created a little reel of my trip that you can check out on my Instagram. The trip itself was needed, not only to refresh my writing spark, but I found myself spending some much-needed quality time with myself. I'm already planning my next one!
The title isn't clickbait. I failed to reach the goal of 50,000 words by the end of November. I know exactly where I went wrong and I thought I should tell you all about it. If you've no idea what I am talking about I suggest reading my last blog post 'NaNoWriMo 2021' here.
I'm not writing a pity post but rather a reflection. Using my copywriting experience might have helped me be better prepared for NaNo. I wasn't focused and didn't give myself any direction on what I was working on. I should have approached this the same way I would client work.
Next time, I will do these things differently:
Hello!
This year I have decided to take part in NaNoWriMo. I became aware of it back in my early Wattpad days and I always talked myself out of taking part, well this stops now.
If you're new to NaNoWriMo or haven't come across it yet, it's a non-profit organisation that promotes creative writing all around the world. They host an annual creative writing event in November. The goal of the event is from November 1st to November 30th to write at least 50,000 words. Hopefully, at the end of the month, you should have drafted a whole manuscript. On their website, you write the details for what you will be working on and you track how many words you write every day. By tracking your word count you can earn fun badges. Millions of people around the world take part in this event, it is a great opportunity to join a great community of writers as well as work on your craft.
My writing sessions have been a little all over the place recently so I thought by taking part in this year's event so I can try to refocus myself. Usually, people plan for the event but this year I decided last minute to partake. I did create a quick fun cover for the story I will be working on:
I have had a few characters and storylines floating around in my head so I am using NaNoWriMo 2021 to put them to use. Today I completed my first section at 1724 words, not a bad start. I worked out that to reach 50K words, you need to roughly write 1.6K words every single day! I will be giving updates on here but in the middle of the month and again at end of the month to let you know how I am getting on. I am really looking forward to getting back into the habit of writing every day.
Right here, right now
this is my stage.
To share with you all of my rage,
rage fucking rage.
My rage is because my body is a topic,
it almost feels like it doesn't belong to me.
Everyone seems to have an opinion,
too fat, not pretty, she must be lazy.
Fuck you, that's not the real me,
but you see what you want to see.
I live for me, and only me.
My rage is for my period,
for wanting it to stop.
I don't want children,
but I am told what if?
I shouldn't need a reason,
I shouldn't need an excuse.
Don't project your ideals onto me,
for my life is happily childfree.
My rage is for men's opinions on abortions,
you don't have a vagina, you don't get to talk here.
"But a bloke should have a say?"
Why should a woman give birth if she doesn't want to,
spill your sperm somewhere else,
a child shouldn't be left to be a woman's burden.
Just say you hate women and move along.
I rage because as a lesbian I am not taking seriously,
apparently, I just need a bit of dick inside of me,
I'm not sorry sir, I'm not attracted to tools,
even if I wanted dick it wouldn't be from a fool.
Leave me be, I am a woman loving woman.
I rage from the top of my lungs,
knowing it will never be enough.
Our struggles, our bodies always the topic,
fuck that, now drop it.
---
This is my response to WritingMyPrompt August's prompt.
I look back at my life and by god, I don't know how I did it. Survived I mean.
My life hasn't been easy. I was raised by spies you see, I say raised that isn't quite true. They just happened to be my parents, I was actually raised by a distant aunt that was once removed from the family. Having spies as parents weren't as fun as it may sound. I never really saw them, maybe once a month if that, the longest I went without seeing them was 8 months. They'd send postcards but I doubt they were real. After all, spies were never supposed to give up their location. They lived and breathed for their jobs until they didn't. They died tragically on the hardest mission of their lives, as a teenager at the time they didn't tell me this just that it was an accident. I found out much later.
I was their legacy and I too had become a spy, it was the law. At the age of sixteen, I started my training, it was rigorous and hard. I didn't have a choice, I didn't exactly hate it though. I accepted my duty, trained and became a spy.
I met my partner Barb whilst serving, we met at the beginning of my career. By this point, she had already been a spy for 5 years. Her partner before me had to retire due to 'madness' - this in spy terms we know he went off the rails and tried to expose the entire company, the bosses couldn't allow this so he took a trip. Where to? No one knows, he was never seen again. I was picked to be Barbs new partner as soon as I graduated training at the age of 20. We hit it off right away. We became inseparable quickly. We went on to work together for 50 years, totally in love with each other. I think us being in love with each other was the reason we lasted so long as spies. We protected each other and always had each other's backs. We lived together outside of the spy life too, it was easier that way. We were almost always on call plus we enjoyed each other's company. We were a dream team, travelled the world together. We were unstoppable until we were stopped.
That day my world came crashing down, I haven't felt the same since. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night calling for her until I remember the mission that went wrong. I still cry about it, missing her with my whole being.
The mission was an odd one from the start, an unknown territory we were entering. Must admit after 50 years we weren't as springy as we once were. In the brief, we were giving details that were incorrect and that cost Barb her life. I was so angry at the company, they had one job. The enemy murdered her before my eyes, I barely made it out alive. I saw her fall to the ground, I cried out for her and then there was this aching in my chest, pain shooting through me. I blacked out and days later woke up in the emergency room. I remember asking for Barb, crying to see her and when I was told she had died I was distraught. This sent me down a dark spiral, I wasn't the same person anymore. I entered a very dark place, I quit being a spy. Age caught up with me fast, I lived inside my head for a while. The world was no place for a heartbroken 70-year-old retired spy. There were several attempts to try and leave the world but the company looked after me, made sure I was okay. I still resented them nonetheless.
It has been ten years since her death, I left the retirement home two and a half years ago. Barb came to me in a dream, whilst I was in the home, she stroked my face and spoke to me
"Please don't give up, I know you miss me but I need you to live on. Be happy, stick it to the company. You're not a washed-up all spy, you are Rita Rosco. A living badass who I love. You deserve to be happy." I cried in her arms and she held me, it was magnificent. She was exactly how I remembered her, fiery red hair and a smile that would make any person stop in their tracks. I woke up after that dream with a zest for life, I Rita Rosco was not going to rot with the company.
I now reside in the house we used to live in together. I am doing well, I finally got to know our neighbours after all those years of being away. A lovely woman lives next door, she is the same age as me. She brings homemade biscuits every Sunday and I brew us some tea. Barb would have adored her. She listens to all my stories, I told her I used to be a spy and she laughed. Not horribly but I could tell she didn't believe me, probably for the best, she is good company.
So, I guess what I am trying to say is even though I am not the same person I used to be, and even though Barb isn't here. I am doing okay.
I suppose, even cacti grow in the desert.
R.R
___
This was a response to the July prompt from WritingMyPrompt.
Hello!
There is one thing I really miss about University and that is being amongst other writers. Cheering each other on, sharing each other’s work and hearing different voices. I have decided I would like to have that back, create something other writers can be inspired by or share their thoughts on. I have decided to create a monthly writing prompt, not only for myself but for you to take part in. At the beginning of every month, the first Monday, I will post the writing prompt. I too will respond to the writing prompt and share it on the last Friday of the month.
I have created a page for this project: WritingMyPrompt. With your permission I will post your submission, this way you can showcase what you’ve written and others can enjoy it too! I know so many brilliant writers and not all of them have a writing platform so creating this project I hope they can get their voices heard. This is open to anyone and everyone! No restrictions.
The very first post on the new page has submission guidelines as well as a little welcome message, feel free to click the previous link to have a look. Prompts will also be posted on that page as a reminder and so you can have access to it any time.
Each submission will have its own post on the WritingMyPrompt Page, I’ll too be adding my response to the prompt. If you have an idea or concept you would like to suggest please let me know I’ll add it to my prompt jar.
All I ask if you are submitting is the title of your piece, your pronouns, the name you would like to use and social media @ for people to perhaps reach you. I have set up an email for submissions: writingmyprompts@gmail.com
If you would like to share this project or want to talk about it please use the hashtag #WritingMyPrompt!
WritingMyPrompt: July - "Even cacti can grow in the desert"
"Even cacti can grow in the desert"
I asked for suggestions and themes over on my Instagram and this was the first prompt suggestion and even though I had something different planned I knew this was the one. I hope it inspires you just as it has me!
Your piece can be a piece of fiction/non-fiction, prose or poetry. Any format is welcome. Be as creative as you can, I cannot wait to read your submissions!
The writer,
the writer in me is ready,
ready to spring free,
free our words,
words to the world,
the world better be ready,
ready to connect with our mind,
mind your business,
business being my heart,
heart is what we will give,
give our heart and soul,
soul on a platter,
platter, eat my words and weep.
Once upon a time, in a land far away, as far as you can think, a woman
lives in a castle. I will tell you she was locked away from the world, and the events
that put her in the tower. Let me take you to when she was sixteen years old,
living in a kingdom of royalty. Her mother passed long after her birth, she was
not an only child. She had an older brother and they lived with her father King
Greg. He was a kind king, if you were a man, that is. After the death of his wife
Queen Lorraine, he lost all care for women. He had maids and a nanny to raise
his only daughter: Crystal. She was outcasted, she wasn’t allowed to sit with
them at dinner, instead, she would eat with the maids. She didn’t mind, the
women around her were kind and sweet. Her favourite nanny was Claire, a pale
woman with blonde hair that she wore in a plait that hung over her shoulder,
she was kind in her face and gentle at heart. Claire taught Crystal how to read and
plait hair, and introduced her to drawing, a passion Crystal now holds dearly
to her heart. This sixteen-year-old was very aware of her surroundings, the way
men stopped talking whenever a woman entered the room. The way the king never
met a woman’s eye, but his gaze would fall onto a woman’s breast.
Crystal spent a lot of time in her bedroom as a child, a room that was
absurdly pink. Her father thought it was fitting for a girl. Between you and me, he did not have a clue. His daughter was not all rainbows and kittens, and why should she be? Her bed
was a colossal double with pink silk sheets and satin pillows. The floor was a
soft white carpet. Her dresser was mirrored huge and white; she used it as a desk
to draw. As Crystal got older, she altered the room herself, in a fit of rage;
after a fight with her brother Lewis, she cut her long pink curtains; they no
longer sloped to the floor but abruptly and unevenly stopped at the window. She
wished to alter her perfect pretty room, make it more like her. She refused to
be what the kingdom expected of her. She could not act out more boldly; but at
least in her little space, she could be all that she wanted to be. Everyone knew
that Lewis was King Greg’s favourite child. The boy sought approval from his
father, but the girl did not. Crystal was no Cinderella; she still had a huge home
and expensive clothing. No daughter of the kings would look like a commoner,
even if he did not particularly feel for her.
Crystal would spend hours reading in her huge bed, books scattered
everywhere. Her shelves were filled with numerous volumes. Every corner of her
room had at least three piles of books in each. Her favourite book was Alice in Wonderland. She too, dreamed of a place a world away from her own. She loved the
female protagonist like a friend, and how she adored all of Alice’s adventures. On
her walls were her own drawings of her favourite leading ladies: Jane Eyre,
Jordan Baker, Miss Havisham and Alice. All these women were unique in the
stories they belonged to. In search of
her adventure, she stumbled across her brother and father deep in a
conversation.
“Are we agreed then that the young mistress will be married off?” the king
said.
“And I’ll be next in line and she’ll be gone,” Lewis smirked.
“Where am I going exactly?” she
barged into the room
“It’s none of your business, now go along and play and let us men talk.”
Lewis snorted.
“But it if concerns me, I ought to know!” She demanded.
“Claire come get this child,” King Greg huffed.
Claire came and gently took Crystal out of the room. Together they walked
through the long dining room and into the kitchen. A place Claire knew they could
not be heard. She sat the teenager down and pulled out a brush from her apron,
brushing the princess’s hair to soothe her.
“What is going to happen to me?” Crystal pleaded.
“You’re going to be married, they are lining up suitors as we speak,”
Claire told her with a grimace, this stunned Crystal for a second.
“I do not want to be married; I will not do it. Pushed away with a man to
another kingdom. I cannot do it!” Crystal’s voice trembled.
“I do not think you have much of a choice, my dear, your father is looking
for the best kingdom to get trade deals from, once he has decided you’ll be
married and will leave the castle.” Claire held back her own tears.
For Crystal, this was the last straw. She held back her tears and tried to
think of a plan. All she was to her father was a way of gaining possession. He did not care or love her. She hugged Claire tightly and ran up to her bedroom.
Claire wanted to reassure her and tell her everything would be alright, but she
was not sure that it would be. What would be the point in giving the girl false
hope? Claire loved Crystal as if she were her own, but even she knew marriage
was never going to be good for Crystal. She let her go. Crystal stifled back a cry and
sat on her bed thinking. This was when she decided she was never going to
marry, especially someone she did not love.
Crystal packed lightly and quickly. The adventure she was about to set out
on would be one of great difficulty. She changed from her dress to something
more adventure-worthy. If she were to escape, she had to do it right. In her backpack, she packed Alice, her drawing
book and a pencil case. And a purse filled with gold coins, she didn’t get
money often just on birthdays, but she saved it anyway until she needed it.
That time had come, she hid the purse at the bottom of her bag and packed a few
small items of clothing.
She wrote a note and held it in her pocket; as she made her way through the
castle to Claire’s chamber. She left the note on her desk. It read:
Dear Claire,
I have to leave and take control of my own
future. I hate to leave you in such haste, but my happiness should be in my
own palms. I hope this does not cause you much trouble, but I will write to
you. I hope you can help me; I will keep
in touch. I will miss you dearly.
Love Gem
She had read enough novels to know it is best to use a pen name when
secretly corresponding. From days of wandering around the castle, Crystal
learned it was Claire who fetched in the mail each morning. King Greg liked to
see something attractive first thing in the morning. This worked in her favour,
as she knew Claire would be able to intercept any of her letters without the
King’s knowing.
Before Crystal left the castle, she grabbed snacks from the pantry. She left through the back towards the stable to collect her horse, Rose. No one had ever told her that the horse once
belonged to her mother, Queen Lorraine. The horse was black and beautiful. She was well kept and loved by all who met her.
Crystal had never travelled far from the palace, but she had been warned
about going north; the royals were not cared for up that way. She decided that was
the road she would take. She’d attempt
to blend in and make a new life for herself. She left for the north, through the
back of the castle grounds, and through the woods. Crystal felt brave and ready
for what the world had to offer her. She was not sure where exactly she was
going, but she hoped she would know when she got there. She passed through
villages and stopped for food, exchanging a gold coin for a feast built for
one human and one horse. She sat under many trees with her food and a book. She
gazed onto the villages. All of the little houses were white with wooden slacks. All the doors were black with silver knockers. It seemed like the type
of place where everyone knew everyone, and they appeared to be getting along
nicely as they carried on amongst their hustle and bustle, taking no notice of
her. The north did not seem as bad as she had been told.
It had been about six hours since she fled the palace, and when she reached the
fourth village, she was tired. She tried to find shelter, but it was difficult.
No one wanted to talk to her. It did not feel very welcoming at all; the
windows were bolted shut, and all the shutters were down. Not many people were around.
Crystal had to make do and buy a tent from a street merchant. He was very wary
of her and wanted to serve her as quickly as possible to get rid of her. She
packed her tent and some food that she managed to haggle and rode into the
forest. The forest seemed darker than the one she
had entered from the palace; the trees were wilder, and she did not feel
familiar in this neck of the woods. She
found a spot of leaves; trees hovered above her, and she was not too far from the
village. Enough no one would see her, she hoped, but close enough if trouble
was lurking, she could reach the village, not that she was sure they would help
her anyway. She was correct, even if she tried, they would have turned their
backs on her. Rose lay by the tent as Crystal slept. It was the horse's heavy
breathing that lulled the princess to sleep.
Rose was kicking the ground and making a lot of noise, which woke Crystal suddenly.
There were roars of men coming toward them. Crystal jumped out of the tent. All she could see was fire and pitchforks coming toward them. The grunts were loud. Their boots crushing leaves echoed against the darkness. She stroked Rose to
calm her, and then in a panic, she packed all her belongings and quickly rode
away, leaving behind the tent. The men
got closer and faster. She did not know who or why these men were after her.
She did not know that they were from the village. She was being watched earlier
that day. She looked like trouble, and they did not want her near. Maybe they
knew she was a daughter of the king, or perhaps the villagers did not take too
kindly to a stranger that lurks around.
“Get the bitch,” a male voice growled. Several men grunted in response.
“Hurry Rose,” Crystal ushered.
Rose rode faster than she had ever before. Trees passed them in a blur. She
was working against the wind, both eager to leave the forest. Crystal could not
see anything around her in the darkness. They just kept going forward and not
looking back. Even after they lost the men, they did not stop. If she had not acted so quickly, this would have been the end of her adventure. Sleeping was
out of the question. They needed to find a safe space. They rode for hours. The
forest seemed to go on forever. It wasn’t until they could hear the water flowing
that they began to slow down.
The forest ended at a river; this was the perfect opportunity to stop. The
sun was rising, and the pair needed to rest. The river flowed exquisite blue-coloured water, and little silver fish swam down it. Crystal took out the rest of her food and fed
Rose a couple of apples. They sat for a little while. There was more forest on
the other side of the river. It looked different from the one they had just
been in. The grass was emerald green. Flowers grow at the opening of the trees,
inviting you in. Pretty violet colours and the trees were in the autumn season,
yellow and brown. This was odd for Summer, but Crystal was eager to carry on
exploring. Little did she know how different the other side of the river would
be. She allowed Rose to rest. In the meantime, she washed her hands and face in
the river. She knew no water like it. She felt a wave of confidence pass over
her. Crystal packed up all of their belongings and helped Rose leap across the river.
They walked together through the forest; birds sang above them as they
walked through. It was a pleasant morning; they came across bushes filled with
berries and fruits. She bagged the goods ready for later, and they continued
through. They walked for a couple of hours before coming across a little cottage.
It was hidden behind huge trees. The little cottage looked abandoned. Vines
grew up on the sides covering the walls, and the roof seemed to be made of leaves and
wood. It reminded her of the one from Peter Pan, Wendy’s house. They stopped
outside. Crystal knocked on the door, no answer. It was not locked. The door had
words carved into it ‘Home for travellers, be kind while you pass through with
this, she warily opened the door. No one was inside. It was a singular room. It
was a sweet little room, a tree trunk for a sofa. A bed of leaves and the floor
had what looked like a rug of flowers. Crystal decided this was where she was
going to stay, her safe place.
It was her safe place, for a couple of days. She had quickly become comfortable and found a routine. Every morning she would take Rose for a ride and hunt for food. Every day they would adventure further up north. She made it past the forest, in a new direction in search of a village. Somewhere she could purchase some parchment to write to Claire. She eventually found a village; it was very small and called Village Mill. Made up of two or three houses, all brown. There was one shop in the village. They sell everything you could ever need. From food to rope, it had its own petite mailing service. She purchased some bread along with her parchment and quill. She liked the village and was eager to see Claire. She missed her, and even in her cottage she would wake up from bad dreams and cry when Claire was nowhere to be found to soothe her hair and dry her tear-stained cheeks. Her heart ached for company, but she knew the price of freedom. Waves of loneliness would hit her from time to time, and she began to write to Claire:
Claire,
I am not far from a small village. I have
found a home in the prettiest of forests in a little cottage. It is not unlike
something out of a book you would find on my shelves back at the palace. It is simply lovely. I
wish you could visit me. Or at least maybe send me some clothes and books. I will
come back to this village to meet you in three days’ time. If I do not see you,
I will check for the post from you. Village Mill is the place; I miss you
dearly, Claire, but I do not miss home.
Love Gem
She closed and addressed the letter, excitedly, she went back to the little
shop and sent it right away. She was eager to see a friend, if it was Claire or a
character from one of her favourite books. Crystal believed Alice felt lonely
without her other titles. She returned to her little cottage. She looked after
Rose daily and enjoyed being amongst nature. During her time alone she learned more
about herself and began to enjoy her freedom. They often went back to the
pretty river to bath, and each time it felt more enchanted; that was Crystal’s
favourite outing. She would sit close to the river and watch her reflection.
Her skin was shining more, a light in her eyes appeared that was not there before.
She was blossoming.
Three days had passed, and she excitedly rode into Village Mill. It was
quiet, the place seemed to be shut. She left Rose by the wall and knocked on
the door of the little shop. No answer. No one seemed to be around. She tried
peeping through the window of the shop, and she could see someone inside. She
tapped on the window
“Hey, can you open up please?” She asked politely, but she noticed the person seemed to be hiding behind a counter.
It was the sharp yelp that made her turn around, her horse slaughtered
before her eyes. Blood gushed all over the stoned pavement. It did not take her
long to notice the silver armour of the men, the king’s soldiers. She sobbed and threw herself down with Rose.
She was dragged, kicking and screaming. The soldiers locked her into a carriage
enclosed with chains around her wrists. With that, they took her back to the palace.
She did not stop screaming in protest for the whole journey.
She was going to be in shock when she arrived back at the palace; the first
person she asked for was Claire. None of the soldiers answered her. Instead, they dragged her to the king. They did not let go of her until they were in
front of him, sitting at his throne. The room was silent. She sunk to the floor
and her chains clanged against the hardwood. Soldiers guarded all of the exits
in case she decided to try and flee again.
“Where is Claire?” Crystal sobbed.
“You have disgraced this family, running away like a child. You spoilt
little brat,” King Greg spoke to her
“Where is Claire?” She ignored his comment. She did not care for the
family.
“You slipped up, writing a letter to the palace, how did you think that
would get past me?” His laugh bellowed.
He continued “Your mistake cost a life; I could not have a traitor living
in my palace.”
Crystal sobbed loudly; a life lost because of a letter. She was furious and
heartbroken, but all she could do was cry.
“I found your note, I hung her for it. She attempted to hide it
from me, silly woman.” He was not even the slightest bit remorseful.
“Are you going to kill me like you killed her?” She shouted
“That would not look good on the family, not at all. No dear, I am going to
stick to my original plan. I will wed you off, at least then I will not have to
deal with you ever again. You can be another family’s problem.”
“No, I will not. I shall not. I would rather throw myself down the
staircase. I will jump, I will try and leave again. You cannot make me; I will
not marry.” She protested, and she meant every word. Her father refused to look
at her.
“Fine, have it your way. You won’t see the light of day for as long as I
live. Guards take her to the far west tower. Don’t stop along the way, lock her
up and pass on strict instructions that she is never to leave the tower.”
With that demand, she was imprisoned by the guards once more. She was
cuffed and blindfolded, and it took over a week to get her to the destination her
father had in mind. Crystal was silenced, rope covering her mouth and hands. She
sat silently, sobbing for the whole journey. They arrived at the tower. It was 100
feet tall and it reached the sky. She was asleep when they carried her up the
thousands of steps. She was locked in a room. A room which had the necessities
inside, a bed, a toilet and a bath. Even a desk. She was not the only person in
the tower. An anonymous person lived there, too. They never saw one another, but
that person’s job was to put food through the hatch of the door and leave
again. Once a week a delivery would come for her during the night. Things from
her room would slowly be transported to her. Her father wanted all the signs of her
gone from the palace. She was never awake for these deliveries; they just
appeared in her room through the hatch week in and week out.
As the years passed by, she grew older, and her books were all returned to
her. Notebooks which she filled with drawings and poetry. She no longer drew
the women in her novels, as she did as a child, rather, she drew all the
places she had ever visited. Even places that she had dreamed of. She stopped
feeling sorry for herself after the first year of being trapped in the tower. At least she was not in an unwanted marriage. In her little tower, she had one
window. It was in an arched shape. She could not see much, just the tops of
trees that would go for miles.
It was the day of her twenty-first birthday when she was freed. It was not an easy day, nor did she do it on her own. In fact, she spent the day drawing, unknowingly waiting to be rescued. A week before the princesses' birthday, when a knight was passing through King Gregg’s kingdom. The knight observed the lack of princesses in the kingdom. Rumours had run through the villages that she had been banished. Some said they even killed her. People outside of the kingdom did not know for certain. The knight asked around, finding Prince Lewis in the courtyard of the palace.
“What do you want with the princess? You’ll never find her.”
This knight was like no other, silent and deadly, and not from this kingdom,
but from one that was thousands of miles away. The prince was determined to kill, and the
knight did not back down. Swords clashed, and they moved viciously. They swiftly
blocked the sneaky stabs. I will let you know the Prince does not fight fair, but
cheating did not help him this time. He was quite shocked when the knight’s
sword slashed his arm off with one swift movement. The Prince was on the floor
crying when the knight stood over him. Foot on his chest, pressing a sword to
his throat.
“The tower, far west, past forests. It will take a week, keep going
west.” He folded, the knight did not show mercy and killed him.
On a white horse, the knight set out for the princess. Showing no mercy to
the King’s soldiers, the knight travelled to the far west. Nothing could get in
the way. No wolves, no man. It was the sound of armour clinking that disturbed
the princess’s nap. She looked out of her arched window to see the white horse, but no rider. She stood in the middle of her room, waiting for the door to
swing open. She was exhilarated, she had not spoken to another person in years.
The huge door swung off its hinges; wood flew everywhere. In came the
knight dried blood-covered from battle but standing proudly at the top of the tower.
The knight looked around the room, noticing the drawings and books, the
beautiful pictures that hung around the stone room. Nothing as beautiful as the
princess that stood to stare, the knight was here to rescue the princess.
“Hey, are you here to save me or slay me?” Crystal stepped forward
The knight laughed a sweet and wholesome laugh before removing the helmet.
She swayed her hair free, and her emerald eyes beamed at Crystal.
“I am here to save you if you’ll let me?” She was charming
“Indeed, I have never seen a knight so beautiful.”
“Nor I a princess.” Her smile was
contagious
“Fair knight, what is your name? How can I thank you?”
“My lady, how rude of me. I am Knight Bree, from far North. I shall take
you from here,” Bree swooped Crystal off her feed. Crystal was giddy with lust.
“And I shall be yours?” Crystal gazed into Bree’s eyes.
“Mine, and I yours.”
Together they left the tower. Crystal was not sad about leaving all of her
belongings. Not like she once was; it was different this time. She was ready
for a new life, one with Bree. Before their departure to the north Crystal
asked if she could stop by the palace, Bree agreed, as long as Crystal would
allow her to keep her safe. Together they reached the palace. It was the day of
her brother’s funeral. They stood hidden at the far back of the palace, and
listened to King’s speech:
“I have lost my beloved son Lewis, a tragic death that breaks my heart. I
am getting old with age and need an heir to my throne. A week from today, I will
be bringing my daughter back to the palace to live with me. I have done her wrong, and I should hope she will forgive me. There is no one left after her, no one to carry on
our family name. I should not have been so selfish. Rest in Peace, my son, gone
too soon. We will be re-joined as a family soon enough.”
Crystal let out a sigh.
“Do you want to stay? You could be queen.” Bree took Crystal in her arms
“No, we will leave. I have all I need right in front of me.”
Crystal pressed her soft lips against Bree's lips. They shared a passionate kiss
before they set off. She had only read
about love at first sight in her books, and now she had her soul mate. They
continued to travel up north, unbothered, and they began a happy life together. A
life of freedom and love. Crystal denounced her royalty. Bree gave up her
knighthood. In a big house filled with books and art, that is where you will
find the ex-knight and the ex-princess. And they lived happily ever after. The end.
