***Disclaimer - this is the first story writing I have done since middle school and this is NOT a complete story. I am doing this for fun, and as a challenge to write. I eventually hope to be able to complete a short story. This is not that time. 🤣 *****

Sunlight filtered through the worn curtains - another day. Chloe sighed and wondered if it was even worth the effort of getting out of bed. The enchantment that kept her in the tower would feed her the same breakfast again. The same clothes were in the wardrobe. Even the never ending supply of art and sewing supplies wasn’t enough to entice her out of bed. After all, it had already been 30 years - there was no reason to believe that a prince would finally appear today. Chloe rolled over and sighed again. No point in lazing around, she thought. She sat up, looking at the curtains. Her curse kept her here, but it also kept her fed, comfortable, and somewhat entertained. But the years still showed in the curtains, somehow one of the few things the seemed to be outside of the enchantment. Had it really been 30 years? Glancing to her left, there was no denying it - the magical calendar that kept track of her time here read 30 years, 2 hours and 29 minutes.

Almost unconsciously, Chloe’s feet hit the ground as her body went through the motions of her morning routine, but her mind was clearly not on the tasks at hand. 30 years, with no prince to rescue her from her prison. She was hopeful in the beginning, sitting dutifully by the window, looking her best in order to meet her rescuer. After about five years, she began to take up more hobbies and spent less time at the window. The enchantment provided books first. Then it gave art supplies - paints, canvases and brushes. After year 7, it gave sewing supplies. It never provided anything other than “womanly” hobbies. She tried asking for a longbow, a sword, a falcon, and once asked for a horse. None of these were granted to her. Not that she actually expected to receive the horse - she hadn’t been outside the tower since her arrival all those years ago. The enchantment kept her confined, as it was intended. It kept her alive and fed, cleaned up uneaten food, and provided moderate entertainment, but nothing else. As she drew on her slippers and pulled her meager breakfast towards her, she thought, “Maybe it’s time to do something else. Maybe I should start taking things into my own hands.”

Chloe absent-mindedly began eating her fruit as she surveyed the room around her. The room was fairly large, but after so many years, she failed to see it as anything other than small. The four poster bed against the wall was soft and comfortable, but if she ever wanted to leave this place, comfort would not help her. The bookshelf on her right was filled with books, mostly romance. If there was a way to use them to escape, she didn’t see it immediately. There were two chairs, one she was sitting in now, and another to her left, just beside the window. She wasn’t sure she had the strength to lift one, but she had never tried either. Perhaps she could break the window? It did open, but not enough that she could squeeze through it. The door opposite the window was locked - she had come through it 30 years ago, and the clunk of the lock has haunted her nightmares ever since.

Chloe looked down at her plate and sighed. She had finished her breakfast without noticing. She got up to clean her plate. The enchantment may take care of food waste, but it did not clean her dishes. She got very sick in the beginning until she learned to clean up after herself - a skill she definitely did not have before that. Princesses did not clean dishes like a scullery maid. Or wash clothes like a chambermaid. But Chloe definitely had learned how to do both the hard way, she mused as cleaned her silverware in the basin in the corner. She froze - the silverware! She held her fork up and examined it closely. Silverware at the castle had been gold, but this was simpler. She wasn’t sure what exactly it was made of, but it was a silver color and seemed pretty sturdy. She picked up the knife and took a closer look at that, too. The knife wasn’t sharp, it certainly wouldn’t be useful as a weapon, not that she had any idea how to use one. But maybe she could use the silverware to open the lock on the door? The door definitely had a key, she remembered seeing it on the guard’s belt. Some

Images just stayed in her head, no matter how many times she tried to forget them.

Chloe held her fork in her left hand, and her knife in the right. She had no idea how to pick a lock, it certainly wasn’t a skill taught to ladies, much less a princess. It was usually a skill reserved for villains in the books on her bookshelf. Did that make her a villain now? Perhaps it did. Being the dutiful princess waiting on her prince hadn’t worked out, then maybe playing the villain would get her out of her prison. She walked over to the door and examined the keyhole. There was no doorknob, as the door was likely never intended to be opened from the inside. She bent down and looked inside the keyhole, although it did no good. It was dark, and hadn’t the faintest idea what she was looking for anyway. She looked again to the fork and knife in her hands. The knife would probably do better, she decided, dropping the fork to the floor. If this worked, she wouldn’t need it again anyway. She approached the keyhole with the knife slowly - the rounded point of the knife slid into the slot easily. “Now what?” She muttered to herself, as she jiggled the knife up a down a bit. She twisted her hand to the right - and nothing happened. She tried again to the left. And again, nothing happened. She let go of the knife, disappointment flooding her. She stopd with her hands on her hips as she contemplated the knife handle still sticking out of the keyhole. In reality, she wasn’t sure why it hadn’t fallen out completely, there was only about an inch or so of the knife stuck in it. How thick was the door? How could she not remember that? She looked down at the fork again, bending to snatch it back up again. She eyed the tines of the fork, glancing back up to examine the exposed keyhole around the knife again. Perhaps if she used the fork and the knife together?

Chloe took the knife handle in her left hand, and the fork in her right, as she attempted to insert the fork around the knife blade. It didn’t fit. She huffed in frustration. The fork was too wide. She would have to try something else. She threw both utensils back into the basin and stormed over to the window to collapse into her chair. There had to be a way out of this tower, she just had to figure it out.