Author’s Note: About three days ago, I started this piece, not knowing if it would be a very strong piece or not. I started to write, wondering if I should continue. I got about a page in, then got sucked in. I kept on going, and realized that it would be a nice piece. During this piece, I was hoping to accomplish improving my vocabulary and dialog structure.
I stared out the window, hoping that one day I would have the chance to step outside, feel the fresh breeze blow through my hair, and the soft grass tickle between my toes. But no. I’m a princess, so a chance like that is hopeless. Why even try if you know you will fail?
I turned and walked back to my love seat, then kicked my feet up over the arm. If my father was in the room, I would be grounded for eternity for doing so. But I am already, so I guess it’s eternity and a half.
I took a deep breath in, then sighed. Why is it me that’s locked up here? I just don’t understand. I shook my head, then decided I was already uncomfortable in my new position. I started to pace around the room, stopping to look in the mirror several times. And no, I was not one of those princesses that are so full of themselves that they have to look in the mirror just for enjoyment, I just need to look nice for dinner.
There was a knock on the door, and I jumped from the change of silence to pounding.
“Isabelle? Come down for dinner, dear,” my mother quietly said through the door.
“Coming!” I shouted back. I started to go for the door, then turned and brushed through my long, blonde hair once more. I opened the oak door, revealing a well decorated hall filled with portraits lined with gold, paintings lined with gold, and of course, doors lined with gold. Yes, my family was rich. Nothing to hide that.
I picked up my pink satin dress, then tip-toed down the marble stairs which led to the main room.
With each step, my glass slippers clicked on the hard stone.
“Isabelle, my darling! How are you?” my aunt Darla asked me as she came running up to me, arms outstretched for a hug. Her blue powdered wig bounced with every step she took.
“Just fine. How are you?” I asked her.
“Perfect, dear. Oh! I seem to have smeared your mascara when I hugged you. Let me get that for you,” she gasped. She started wiping under my eyes. I was tempted to slap her away, but everyone knew that wouldn’t go over well. Once she was finished, she told me, gesturing an arm towards the table, “Sit, Sit! Make yourself at home.” Funny thought, actually. I was at home.
Aunt Darla was a perfect woman hid behind a mask of makeup. She has done so many things to support the community, donating her time, money, and belongings. Many years ago, and I mean many years ago, she was woman of the year here in Glearville. But, she was so caught up in all of the posters of her, portraits, and fame that she decided to make a new her, resulting in huge ballgowns, powdered wigs (a new color each day), and walls of makeup slammed onto her face. Fortunately, this did not change her personality even a tad, but she was unrecognizable with her new look.
My father sat at the head of the table, then off to his right was my Uncle Robert. His monocle sat over his right eye, and his greying hair and moustache sat just perfectly after mounds of grease combed were through it. The wrinkles and grey hair made him looked more aged than he actually was.
“So, Joseph,” Aunt Darla started towards my father, “we were thinking of taking a trip to Rome, Italy, Robert and I. It will be a great experience, yes?” Her British accent was heavy, along with everyone else in the household. “We were wondering if Isabelle would like to come with.”
I almost spat out my dumpling, so surprised by the offer. I stared at my father, hoping for a brief yes.
“Now,” he began, “ why would you like to take my dear Isabelle along with you? She has never even been outside, much less out of the kingdom. I don’t think she is ready for a big event like this.” My heart sagged.
“I believe this would be good for her. She needs to get out of the castle every once in a while. Never being outside? Joseph, you have to let her off the chain sometime soon. No child deserves to be locked inside a castle for their whole life,” she explained, “and how come she is not allowed outside?”
I saw the pressure in my father’s eyes, knowing that I was sitting there, and even I haven’t a clue.
“It started when I was a young boy. I decided that I would go outside for a walk in the woods when my mother wasn’t looking. I walked outside, then made my way into the forest. I was a couple of steps in, then a swarm of bees came flying at me, chasing me into the castle. I was stung several times, and I knew from that day forth I would never go outside except to get into the carriage to travel. The world is dangerous, you know,” he did a little point towards me.
We all stared at him in silence, wondering if that was the whole story. We sat there for what felt like hours, until Aunt Darla started to crack up.
“That’s.... your.... reason?” she said between spurts of laughter, “You have to be kidding!” Her face was turning crimson, and she was pounding her fist on the table. The rest of us chimed in, laughing at the ridiculous reasoning.
“How does that affect me? I have never once been stung by a bee,” I told him.
“That’s because you’ve never gone outside!” he yelled. He was obviously not amused by us giving him a hard time about it. “You are not going to Rome, and it’s final!”
“But Dad!” I yelled.
“Don’t sass me, Isabelle. You are not going. There are too many responsibilities for you to cover, and you haven’t done enough to deserve to have this done. No Rome for you.”
“Fine, I’ll be the girl that never left the castle, sitting in my room for eternity. I will never know what it feels like to have the sun on my face, the grass between my toes. I will never meet a man, have children, and there will not be another queen and king to take over the throne. I will always be an outsider, or an insider, at this point, and I will be locked inside, becoming a different person by the second. Is this what you want to happen, father? Another person will have to take the throne, and you will never know this man. He could bring this kingdom to a stop, making us all his slaves, dying from terrible events. I will ask again, do you want this to happen to us, father?” I made my point, ending in a brief nod.
“I don’t think not letting you outside is going to affect if we all die or not. You are overreacting,” my father told me.
“I disagree, Joseph. The girl is right. It is a big chain of events that are slightly possible to happen, but at the same time quite possible. You don’t want to take your chances like that, now, do you?” Aunt Darla: you’ve gotta love her.
“Do you really want this?” he directed towards me.
“More than anything, father,” I said.
“Fine. Go to Italy. Eat some pasta. Have fun,” he told me. He didn’t seem to happy about the concept, but hey! He said yes.
“Isabelle, darling, pack your bags. We will pick you up 4am sharp tomorrow morning,” Aunt Darla instructs.
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