The road to nowhere seemed to bend, break, and spiral. That’s when I first considered turning back to the palace. What palace? The one with spindle, of course.

The witch’s curse followed me no matter where I ran. Often, I let them tie me up at night, chaining me to a tree trunk or locking me in a room with no windows. It was okay until the curse amped up.

It started by removing my binds. The soldiers father assigned to me held my body back as sleeping left me in a trance where I didn’t even trust myself. Though, soon, the curse worsened.

Anyone who touched me fell unconscious. They’re still asleep. The fairies don’t know if they’ll ever wake. Those poor souls with families waiting for them to return broke me. How the witch could cast such a spell hurts me inside. That’s how the insomnia started.

Sitting by their beds, sleeping seemed impossible, disrespectful—like they had sacrificed themselves for nothing. And then, for a long time I stayed awake watching over them with the kingdom’s nurses. I learned how to do things no princess before would ever do, like changing bed pans. Gross, but it needs done.

Sleepless nights became sleepless days, leading to a coffee habit that rivals my father’s bad habit for liquior. As sleep came less often, I thought the curse reached its peak. I’m big enough to admit when I’m wrong.

The curse started to drive the nurses around me to an horrid state. Anyone I was around became tired—circles forming around their eyes, passing out at the worst times. I still keep apologizing to Nurse Mabel. She fell asleep after walking within five feet of me. Her head landed on the hard stone floor. It’s a scar she’ll never lose.

And that’s when I decided to seek out the old witch. That being who calls herself a lady. What kind of lady wears a hood with horns? I told her how the spell hurt those around me and begged her to remove it. She simply laughed and turned to find a seat on a throne of briers, which I figure must be why she’s so mean, but what do I know about that old witch? Maybe she likes it.

The witch did tell me what else was in store. “The next stage of the curse starts with you falling asleep. Why should anyone stop you if your unconscious body will kill them with a simple touch? I am not evil, but that is the curse. You relent or people will die. Run as you may, no matter how far, but I don’t have to force you. You will go willingly to the spinning wheel. I can see it now. On your face.”

The witch was right. I want all of this—the unconscious soldiers, the people hurting themselves around me—to end. If it was as simple as stopping my sleep walking body, I would never give in, but killing others to keep myself awake? No.

At the spinning wheel, I stare at the spindle. I guess there was no way I would ever find a way out of this dream of dreams, a drowsy way through life. I reach for the needle as I finally given in to the long night. Beautiful, wonderful, and rejuvenating. A night that I put off for far too long.