Someone deleted my comments up here! (Silver?) Well anyway, sorry about the bad ending down there, but I was stuck. More later.
Creak. Creak. The moan of the floorboards, the hiss of the flames, and the owls softly hooting in the trees mingled to form a soft lullaby that Raquilon fell asleep to every night. But this night, the familiar sound wouldn't lull her into dreaming. This night, the tower would be empty.
She picked up the embroidery she had been working on. It showed a maiden covered in a cloak, running through the forest. She put it into a bag, along with food, her meager savings, some clothes, and a beautiful ruby brooch. Then, she turned to her mirror and started braiding her long, golden locks for the very last time. Instead of securing the end of her braid with her customary ribbon, she tied it with the sturdiest thread she could find, at the top and bottom. Then, she picked up a scissors. After a moment's hesitation, she plunged into the top of her braid, just below her shoulders, and sawed it off.
The braid lay in her lap, lifeless. She hadn't wanted to cut it off, but fifteen foot long golden hair was just too conspicious. She also needed a way to climb down the tower. Jumping more than twenty feet was not an option. She walked over to the only window in the room, opened it, and tied her braid to the latch on the side. Raquilon picked up her basket, held on to the locks that were once hers, and climbed down to freedom.
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Raquilon wrapped herself in her cloak and ran through the dark, dense, woods. She wouldn't have had to do it if Emmis had come last week. He'd climbed up her tower and promised to save her so many times, and leaving each time with a little bit of her heart. They'd finally decided on when. But he didn't come then. That was when she had started working on the embroidery. Raquilon told herself that she would only wait for him until he was done with it. Then she would leave.
Now, she was finally finished. She'd tried to stall, adding so many details that the back side of the cloth was full of messy loops. He still hadn't come, and she knew he was well- if anything happened to a hair on the prince's precious head, the news would spread throughout the entire kingdom. Even the witch would hear.
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Raquilon ran into a small, ivy covered cave. It had started raining- big, wet drops the size of gold coins. She opened her heavy bag and pulled out a cloak a, hunk of bread, and a wedge of cheese. After hastily pulling the cloak over her head, she gobbled her food, curled up into a ball, and fell asleep.
The witch had raised Raquilon since she was four years old. Raquilon only knew the witch wasn't her mother because she had a hazy memory, almost like a dream, of a tall couple looking down at her. The woman had been saying, "But she's our daughter, Ernest!"
Creak. Creak. The moan of the floorboards, the hiss of the flames, and the owls softly hooting in the trees mingled to form a soft lullaby that Raquilon fell asleep to every night. But this night, the familiar sound wouldn't lull her into dreaming. This night, the tower would be empty.
She picked up the embroidery she had been working on. It showed a maiden covered in a cloak, running through the forest. She put it into a bag, along with food, her meager savings, some clothes, and a beautiful ruby brooch. Then, she turned to her mirror and started braiding her long, golden locks for the very last time. Instead of securing the end of her braid with her customary ribbon, she tied it with the sturdiest thread she could find, at the top and bottom. Then, she picked up a scissors. After a moment's hesitation, she plunged into the top of her braid, just below her shoulders, and sawed it off.
The braid lay in her lap, lifeless. She hadn't wanted to cut it off, but fifteen foot long golden hair was just too conspicious. She also needed a way to climb down the tower. Jumping more than twenty feet was not an option. She walked over to the only window in the room, opened it, and tied her braid to the latch on the side. Raquilon picked up her basket, held on to the locks that were once hers, and climbed down to freedom.
------------------------------------------------------------
Raquilon wrapped herself in her cloak and ran through the dark, dense, woods. She wouldn't have had to do it if Emmis had come last week. He'd climbed up her tower and promised to save her so many times, and leaving each time with a little bit of her heart. They'd finally decided on when. But he didn't come then. That was when she had started working on the embroidery. Raquilon told herself that she would only wait for him until he was done with it. Then she would leave.
Now, she was finally finished. She'd tried to stall, adding so many details that the back side of the cloth was full of messy loops. He still hadn't come, and she knew he was well- if anything happened to a hair on the prince's precious head, the news would spread throughout the entire kingdom. Even the witch would hear.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Raquilon ran into a small, ivy covered cave. It had started raining- big, wet drops the size of gold coins. She opened her heavy bag and pulled out a cloak a, hunk of bread, and a wedge of cheese. After hastily pulling the cloak over her head, she gobbled her food, curled up into a ball, and fell asleep.
The witch had raised Raquilon since she was four years old. Raquilon only knew the witch wasn't her mother because she had a hazy memory, almost like a dream, of a tall couple looking down at her. The woman had been saying, "But she's our daughter, Ernest!"
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