Another story. And a poem, because I couldn't resist.

Going along with my dedication to write more stories, instead of just poems, here is an excerpt from a story I've been playing with:

I can’t even begin to tell you how many princes have been toasted, baked, and charbroiled in failed rescue attempts. But of course, that always gets left out of the wedding stories (though Rupunzel said it worked out pretty well for her – “I mean after a prince goes to all that the trouble of rescuing you, it isn’t quite polite to turn down his proposal and I couldn’t stand to marry a man who didn’t work out! So you see, that they had to climb my hair really, well, weeded out the weak if you get my drift” and gave her some nice read highlights in that thick blond hair of hers).

Okay, that’s a bit catty. But it does get tiresome. You have no idea how many times at royal feasts, holidays, and (of course) weddings a well meaning relative comes up to me and asks if it isn’t about time that I found a nice tower to stay in for awhile? Or tells me what a shame it is my parents didn’t make more enemies so one of them could have cursed me with something-or-other to attract a handsome young prince (nothing too nasty, mind you – like poor Princess Sharon. Not many princes want to rescue a princess from a plague of boils.). They sigh, looking at me pityingly and tell me it’s too bad really, they know a lovely young prince who’s looking for a quest, but unless I get my act together and get attacked by a dragon or a witch, he’s going to find someone else to rescue.

And therein lies the problem. Sure, meeting a nice guy sounds great, but I don’t really want to spend a couple years stuck in a tower planning my wedding while I’m waiting for him. Princess Aurora had it good, she got to fall asleep the whole time, woke up for her wedding very well rested, and didn’t make the princes life miserable asking why he didn’t come sooner like so many girls do.

Besides which, I don’t really want to have to deal with all those men risking their lives for me. It sounds romantic, but I’d feel awfully bad for the ones who died. I don’t quite understand how all these other girls stand it. Breaking hearts is one thing when it’s figurative, but literal stopping of hearts bothers me a bit.

and because I couldn't resist, here's a poem too-

Incomplete

I sit here staring at the blank spaces

You used to fill

Seeing you, now only from the corner of my eye

Your life a broken promise

The shooting star burnt out before dreamers made their wish

A rainstorm with no rainbow

Where once there was a story beginning to unfold

Remains three letters- R.I.P.