I have one question, and one question only. How the hell do I get down?
Six thousand, one hundred, and twenty one tally marks stare at me in the face as one more is chalked up for the day. Here, I remain. Here, I wait. With the same eighteen story high view and the same damn birds flying into the same damn window.
I’d like to give a special shoutout to mummy and daddy for sending me to this oasis of cold stone. Yes, I know, I know, every princess is born with a curse, but why can’t I kiss a frog? It’s a much more temporary punishment and I could get that over with a lot faster than waiting for someone to rescue me. I should be able to get myself down, dammit, feminism is alive!
I can’t complain that much. I’ve spent every day of my life with my best friend, Roxy. She’s the only friend I’ve ever known. It’s a sad tradeoff that my best friend is also the reason people are afraid to save me, but I see why. Her scales are slimy and her horns are devilish, and the fire-breathing – that’s what gets ‘em. Little do they know the key to “defeating” her is scratching the soft spot behind her ear and BAM she’s purring like a cat. Roxy and I have been working on some tricks lately –
“Sit”
“Stay”
“Roll over”
“Fly me down from the castle”
That one isn’t quite perfected yet. Contrary to popular thought (aka storytellers looking to make my life more interesting), Roxy is NOT holding me captive. She’s a great pet. The only issue is that no one thought to build a ladder down this damn castle. What kind of architect designed this place! Somehow I got up here, I think there was a fairy godmother involved, I don’t know, but there must be a way to get down.
Wait! Out there! Something is moving!
“Oh Charming! Oh Charming! You’ve finally come for me!”
The swaying tree branches make no comment back. How rude! It is a daily game we play, the plum tree and I, so one day, I’ll have the most elegant cry that he will fall in love with me on the spot. A feminine shriek – that’s what gets the men.
However, until that day,
When I cry out to my love instead of berry bushes
Or my fairy godmother decides to make a reappearance and help a girl out
Or Roxy learns to fly me down
Or my hair grows long enough that I escalade down the side of this castle myself – would’t that be a sight, I will stare at my wall and stare at the steadily growing grass, and stare at my infinite tallies, imagining they are from the ghost in my room trying to scratch his way out as well.
