The prince searched far and wide for his princess, but there were no clues, no trace of her.
“It’s like she disappeared with some sort of magic,” the King said as the detectives came back to the castle. They all gathered in a large, grand chamber, sharing theories and evidence. The prince never thought anything much about that room, but suddenly it just seemed empty and cold now that the warm presence of his princess was gone. He stared up at the golden beams, unable to hide the somber look on his face.
The prince sighed, now his father would force him to spend the rest of his life with one of those bouncy, loud girls who seemed keen on getting his attention at the party. One even went out of their way to spill red wine over themselves and blame it on a guard. Oh, how he hated those kind of girls.
The King took notice of his son’s expression and turned to put a hand on his shoulder. The Prince looked up and met his eyes.
“I will send out another search. We will find the maiden, if we have to go looking for her house by house.”
The Prince straightened his shoulders, his fathers determination fueling his own. “Shall I go out looking for her myself, father?”
The King considered this, “I suppose that would be best, considering we have no evidence, no nothing! Quite a ghost this girl is.”
“Yes, father. But we will find her.” The Prince said, trying to convince himself more than the King. He would find his princess if it were the last thing he did.
He swore on every single thing that had value to him.
He would find her.
Wherever she was
Sometimes I wonder if it’s my fault.
If I could’ve changed it with a different word, a different tone, a different setting.
Friends for seven years, and now it seems like the crack that was between us is a canyon, stretching miles and miles beneath the blue sky.
I’ll have to move on.
I knew it from the moment I received the text.
But a bandaid can’t cover up a cut that big.
It would be like trying to heal a sun burn with rubbing alcohol, it just doesn’t work.
It just hurts.
The pain that makes your eyes leak out because your body can’t think of a better response.
The pain you don’t know how you will ever recover from it because no one taught you.
No one teaches you how to handle betrayal.
It’s one of those things you have to learn for yourself.
One of those things where you don’t understand what it is until it happens.
Betrayal.
The end.
The end of a bond.
The end of an era.
It’s time to untie.
The pot bubbles and steams as I stir the liquid, boiling the water hot. Tiny bubbles pop up and float, temping me to touch them with my finger. I clench my fist tight, holding back the urge.
With a sigh, I set the spoon down and rest my forehead on the hard cabinet, letting the sound of boiling water flush my worries away.
I can almost imagine waves creasing past my head and fish flouncing by. Coral and sea grass drifts in the wind and tiny sand particles are dragged deep throughout the ocean. I imagine the soft humming of the whales in the distance and splashes of fellow divers.
“Madeline?” Grandpa called. I snapped out of my daydream and leaned back from the counter.
“Yes, Grandpa?”
“Is the water coming?”
“Of course!”
Diving would have to wait.
Hushed whispered and crackling flames Marshmellows sweetening the air One long night, out in who knows where
Tucked in bright tents Dappling the field The fire is out, not a sound is near
Strange creatures howl And birds fly in pairs One long night, out in who knows where
You hear snuffling outside the tents walls Unable to breath, you make yourself small There you sit the rest of the night, your body frozen but your soul alive
Heart racing depleats as the morning sun rises It scares all away, no more suprises You pack up your things, tossing them without care Never again a long night, out in who knows where
The deserts silence held ancient whispers Ones that carved themselves through the air They swept through the wind and ruffled the sand
The desert speaks through its dry ground Tremors of voices, a peculiar sound It tells a story, one so grand It confirms mysterious beneath the sand
If only we could listen to the song Instead of lyrics on a wall If only we could hear The song of the desert, so far yet near
I kept counting the miles as if they were seconds I had left to live. Depite the sun settling down beneath the horizon and the particularly annoying man whining next to me, I can’t help but keep moving.
The motion seems more than my exit ticket.
It seems like a lifeline.
“Can we stop?” The Prince complained. He’d given up his pitful demands long ago. I couldn’t help but mock him in my head. _‘I, son of King Edith, demand you stop right here, or suffer you will.’ _How stupid, like any person out here with enough sense would care about any of the kings threats. We’d give anything for leverage against his highness, even eternity rotting in his rows of cells.
Rows and rows of cells.
Metal bars so rusted they don’t gleam, grimy floors with your head resting right next to a cockroach. I couldn’t help but shiver at the thought.
Kids stories, are what our parents called them growing up, but as I grow older those tales seem to be becoming true.
But I supposed that sacrifice would be worth it if we could somehow overthrow Edith, though, that doesn’t seem like it could happen anytime soon, considering his son was stranded alongside me.
We have to walk at least 50 miles to the nearest village, from there, hopefully the Prince can use some of his royal leverage to summon us a ride, that is, if he doesn’t betray me on sight.
“No,” I deadpan, focusing on footstep after footstep. The red dirt must be so deterring for his highness. I bet he only lets himself walk on fresh green grass rooted in a certain shade of brown soil.
Privileged bastard.
He let out a sigh. I silently pleaded he’d give up. I wasn’t exactly eager to become friends with the man whos father I wished death upon periodically. Unless he had daddy issues, in that case, I’m sure we would get along great.
But clearly I was stuck with daddy’s bestest boy instead. He growled in frustration and kicked some dust out of his shoe.
“Does this place ever have any grass? Or pavement?”
“Nope. Only fresh, southern dirt.” I kicked up and cloud of dust with my shoes and he coughed, as if it was toxin to his lungs.
I smirked. “Sorry.”
“I suppose that apology was not sincere?”
“I’ll let you decide.”
For a moment, we had sweet silence. A moment that tasted like honeydew and strawberries, but of course, I guess the prince doesn’t like that sweet feeling. Maybe he liked roasted chicken better.
“I feel as though I should get to know you more, considering I’m practically your captive.”
“Feel free to leave any time, buddy.” I muttered.
“Yes, well, the only thing that would do would be putting us alone.”
“Sound nice.” I countered.
The prince rolled his eyes at me. “It would do us no good. Perhaps we should start easier, something that doesn’t pervoke banter. Favorite animal?”
I hesitated. “Cats.”
The prince let out a soft snicker. I glared at him and his face straighted up, “Cats are… lovely.”
“They are.”
“Favorite food?”
“Sweet potatoes.”
“I like them better mashed.”
I nodded. Of course he does.
“Favorite color?”
I stared into the horizen, the sun setting beneath the fine line with whisps of golden and orange. Yellow swirls and pink explosions in the distance. How could I choose?”
“Gold,” I said. “Like the sunset.”
“Me too.”
I looked at the prince, “Really?”
“Gold is a lovely color. Very reflective and gorgeous.”
“It is.” I agreed, a soft smile running across my face.
“Gold, like jewels.”
I groaned and slapped myself internally.
Impossible.
Absolutely impossible.
Some nights I lay silently on the grass and listen to the trees argue. They don’t speak unless spoken to, more of a debate than an arguement. The wind influences them, pushing them to choose sides and speak. Like a soft rhythm. I like to close my eyes and imagine their noises are the ocean rushing up against the sand and sharing stories. I like to imagine a time where the trees weren’t the only ones there to discuss, when there were animals and birds on the council. They hold the last memories of them all. And now I can hear them.
Oh, how glorious it is.
Such nourishing for young minds, hail the system and it’s time.
Six hours a day of pure knowledge. What more could you ask for as an aspiring child?
Bright floresent lights to keep your mind wide. Words being writing and erased in short time.
Oh, how much I’ve always wanted to know of the acute triangles, for when I become a librarian in the future. Such topic prevokes my creativity and will to learn so much new.
Praise the monochrome textbooks, the black and white diagrams so. It gives me an unexplainable joy, looking through the words and rows.
Letters in red ink, helping my journey. Oh, what a way to spend my youth. I always wanted such anxiety to fuel, to teach me while I’m young how to worry.
I will be sure to savor these lovely days. Whenever I think of childhood, glorious memories of graphite and white slates shall appear. I’ve always wanted to live my life in a chair watching the world steer past. That’s just the way the world works, my dear.
Castles crusted with diamonds along balconies and doors. Candles glowed through the windows rimmed by lavender trees and glowing green grass. The clouds framed the speared points of the roof.
I closed my eyes and breathed in the crisp air. Deep in the distance I could hear a waterfall thudding against the rocks at the bottom of the bay.
“Payton!”
I loved the way the trees with their thin trunks grew up the mountain side. They looked like flowers in a field, standing out like a spotlight against the grass.
“Payton!”
I could feel the glossy floor of the castle was beneath me, and I could almost hear the birds calling my name in the distance.
“Payton!”
“What, Mom?” I rubbed my eyes.
“It’s time to go!”
My head snapped to the left, gazing into the clock.
8:01.
I’m late!
Thin blades creasing on fragile stone The water is so delicatly froze Cuts and spins, round and round The ice provides, without a sound
It holds up strong despite the faint scars That seem so fresh and new to its heart It invites others to step on it everytime Because their heart is too big, and little is their mind
It’s their pleasure to push people and let them glide Right over them, as they sit and hide Watching from the cave below As the very being they helped, forgets them under the snow
They give a warm drink along the way And watch them leave without pay Too scared of fate to speak up and say And just watch, watch everyone run away
A doormat, the floor, the ice they all trust Sits there while they glide, testing their luck Beautiful spins and twirls, always a must But what about the ice, undertneath such bustle? Is it left there forever, a constant muscle?
