The Resting Place

The perfect resting place, it was so obvious that it was almost mystifying. Where else would you lay to rest the Homecoming Queen, Daddy's Little Princess, and royalty of the high school? The abandoned castle was ideal. She had gasped her last breath where kings had ruled, and servants had bowed.

The chandeliers replaced by cobwebs. Graffiti decorated where famous paintings once hung. And now, a princess lay on the cold cement floor rather than a canopy bed. This sleeping beauty would never wake. No knights would ride in to rescue her. Oh, the cavalry would find them eventually. He hadn't even tried to hide his tracks. His aim was simply to have her acknowledge him, say his name, look him in the eyes.

For years, they had been classmates. Yet, he was invisible to her. Sitting beside her class after class, year after year, and never did he warrant a glance. It wasn't that he lusted after her or wanted her love. He sought, instead, to have the "princess" admit his existence, his equality.

Ironically, it had taken little planning and was simpler than most of his final exams. Her feeling of invincibility secured her fate. An unlocked car door, a fake gun to her head. Whimpering she drove him to the castle, her new home. She followed directions so easily, thinking she could still be saved. The princess never dies in the fairy tales.

"This isn't a fairy tale. Say my name," he instructed her repeatedly as he squeezed her neck.

In her last begging breath, the correct answer was amiss, "I . . . don't . . . know . . .who . . .you . . .are."

Watching the life escape her body, crying with frustration and disbelif, he whispered, "At least you looked into my eyes."