☛ Rough cold grey granite blocks made up the circular shaped walls of her thatch roofed tower prison, a prison she had languished in from birth. A period stretching twenty isolated years, her mother’s weekly visits being the only contact with the outside world she had ever known.
She had cried enough tears in her confinement to have made a pillar of salt beside the small round wooden table she wept at daily. Salt and mineral creating a stalactite of misery, and yet it gave her a sense of achievement somewhere in the dark reaches of her mind. A tangible testament to the lonely days and nights alone.
Escape without death was futile, as the only means of entry for her mother was via the enormous length of hair she had grown, casting it through her open sided tower window toward the ground. Even so, her mother still needed to stand to full height on the saddle of her huge black stallion. A stallion of nineteen hands she had bought from a bargain bin at the local livery after an afternoons revelry at the local pub. Walking had proved to be a smidgen too difficult for her small gnarled and drunken frame. By the time she had ridden the ex-cavalry horse the 75 metres home from the nags place of purchase, her mother had named the hard mouthed, fire eyed equine monster freshly ascended from the hot place “Ken Orse”; a name that had endured years and a multitude of broken sticks and whips and branches. Beyond hair and horse, short of sprouting wings, there was no way gravity would have allowed her to survive the twenty two metre drop.
Her hair, whilst ridiculously abundant, was a gentle shade of blonde. On raising her eyelids, one could gaze into her sky blue eye’s. She was of proportion as would be expected from a lass locked into a tower, in a twelfth century setting, as seen as the quintessential ‘damsel in distress and despair’ in only the finest childrens animated film. Everything about her was perfect in every way.
Then, on a beautiful spring morning, a handsome prince happened to be riding by, spotting her seated at her tower window. A vision of sun drenched beauty filled his view, and after a few tries over a few days he had her on the ground, free from her captivity. On completion of their ride from the tower to his castle, and after a quick bath, a snappy haircut leaving her hair at waist length, and a shave of the kingdoms hairiest legs, the good prince proposed to her, to which said replied through sparkling smiling teeth and lips“of course my darling”, and they were to marry the very next day.
Her name was ‘Annis’, should all going according to plan, she would later become ‘Princess Annis’.
Of course.
☛ The Queen, a splendid ageless raven haired lady of enormous height, willowy figure, colourful disposition, and a fetish relating to the removal of the heads of unfortunate peasants whom she deemed to be ‘naughty’, was also one who appreciated the little things. The soon to be Princess fell into this category, as such the Queen on learning of the impending wedding called for her gamesmen, and ordered for the immediate slaughter of the royal polar bear, and two of the beautiful royal baby seals. She then summoned her dress makers and demanded of them a cloak of their white furry hides as a wedding gift for Annis. The Queen seeing Annis as purity distilled, warranted a gift equal in colour to Annis’s vestal virtuosity with near religious fervour. Lined with silk scarlet in colour, her hooded cloak bore the brilliant arctic whiteness of snow and midnight whitecaps of a troubled ocean, designed for the winter months, as the kingdom held a permanent bone chilling frost. It’s design gave lean to a ‘riding hood’, yet some called it a ‘cloak’. Others would later call it ‘deadly’, Annis would call it ‘mine’, yet all would fear it in time to come.
Click the picture of the sunflower, Chris Bailey from the the ‘Saints’, and the ‘Spazzy’s’ get it going! Oh it’s my birthday today, and I am about to go and feed cattle, but, as a bit of birthday fun, copy the link to your favourite song from youtube, and paste it onto my facebook page. That way when I come back from up the paddock, I will have something to amuse me for a while, and you will hopefully have a bit of fun in doing it.
Huzzah!
N.
www.facebook.com/tbmonstershere/
editor@therebemonstershere.com
text only – 0418393742
All posts and associated intellectual properties regards ‘therebemonstershere.com’ remain ©The World Turned Upside Down.
therebemonstershere.com 