Droplets from the Inkwell

Writing Quickie: The Dissatisfied Princess

She stood at the window, looking out over the town below. Inns, shops, and stables huddled near the castle walls, and she could hear the sound of a blacksmith’s hammer echo softly from the midst of it all. Beyond these places of commerce, small houses spread into the valley before slowly becoming more sparse and separated by crop fields and livestock pens. Small dirt roads, barely big enough for a single stagecoach, tangled their way through it all, providing passage for travelers.

She straightened the many layers of her dress as she looked at the whole scene below wistfully. She had never left even the most innermost walls of her father’s keep, let alone ventured beyond the outer gate into the wilder world. Every now and then, she would hear the servant children talk of some great adventure they had or some grand spectacle they had seen in the town, and she envied them. Her world was circumscribed by dull state ceremonies and the lessons with her tutors.

Then there was the endless needlework that her mother attempted to entice her with. It infuriated her, as she could not see what her mother found so enjoyable about docilely running brightly colored threads through cloth in various patterns. Personally, she would much rather join the young boys on their quest to find some orc treasure or visit the gnomes’ fanciful workshops with their incredible mechanizations.

JarredH

Our tears remind us that we're alive. Our laughter reminds us why.