PrologueA Chapter by Rachel
Once upon a time there was a little girl who loved her father very much and followed him everywhere. He made shoes, you see. Beautiful shoes that made everyone feel better just by seeing them. One day, the little girl was downstairs when something miraculous happened. A boy dressed in soft, rich velvets came in the door and handed her father a piece of paper tied with a ribbon. He gestured grandly as he talked to her father, gesturing at the shoes with a huge smile on his face and then at the door with a flourish. This made the father very happy, so that he raised the little girl up high in the air. They were going to the Palace.
That's how it started. My father was invited to the palace as the royal cobbler and I, as his daughter, gained a new playmate. Her name was Annabella, but I just called her Anna. She was the princess. As the princess's closest friend, I, too, was treated like a princess. I didn't mind. It was nice to be able to go where I liked. I was a rambling vine, going too and fro amongst the roses as I pleased. I loved Anna. We watched the stars to wonder what was past them, finishing eachother's thoughts as we walked the endless halls of the castle. We had a lot in common. She was always stronger than me, though...More fearless, always willing to push the boundaries. I think that's why I am how I am today. She inspired me. Everything was good.
Until that fateful night. I heard pounding before the door flew open, only saved from crashing into the wall by my father's hand. He shut it closed behind him, locking it as he whispered to my mother. She'd been watching us as the rest of the household was at the ball downstairs. She clenched her golden hair with an anxious hand as servants started to come in through the stair.
“Has it happened then?” I heard. I didn't know at the time what disaster she might mean as I caught Anna's hand.
“It'll be alright.” I heard both my father and Anna echo as I felt her hand on my hair.
“What's happening, Anna? Why is everyone so scared?” I remember asking, sure that she would know.
“I...I'm not sure, Elly.” I felt my heart sink as I looked at her. She always had the answer, always had a plan. I looked around at the little circle room that we were in. It was bordered with toys, two cribs, and a little bed . The twins, just born a few short months ago, were asleep in the cribs, dreaming happy baby dreams. I remember wishing that I was them, just for a moment. Just so I could forget what was happening.
There was more pounding and a sound of many feet in the distance. Screams intermingled with the sounds of crashing doors to make a strange music, as beautiful as is was terrifying. I hugged to Anna, who patted my head in comfort. As the music got closer, there was more activity. The baby's were carried out, carefully swaddled from head to toe until they were no different in appearance that the bags of laundry that a few other servants were carrying out as well. I vaguely wondered how they'd know which one was which when they were covered in white.
When my parents at last came for us, we stood up, hand in hand and moved toward the stairwell. We were too late. The door burst open, bringing the music to a terrible crescendo. I tried to hold on to Anna as my parents pulled me away, but soon there were men pulling her in the opposite direction. We both cried as we were pried slowly apart. Her hand reaching for me was the last thing I saw as the door swung closed behind us.
I think of that moment as the last of my child hood. My last hopeful, naïve thought. I thought she would be alright no one ever hurt princess's, right? I would only later know the truth. They killed her. Beheaded her without so much as a trial or a second thought. They were all dead, as far as I knew. Anna, King Aldrick, Queen Larissa, and the twins. They were all gone. The only thing left was the Stepmother.
And the Stepmother sees all.
© 2011 Rachel
Added on November 5, 2011
Last Updated on November 5, 2011
AboutWell, I'm ever so slightly insane, to start with. In my opinion, insanity is a necessity for any artist, be they writer, singer, player, or doodle-bug. I love to write, though I often get stuck, and l.. more..