One Offs: Random Rambles of a Crazed Fool

Waking Up as a Prince

Feeling weightless and woozy in the head, I groan trying to roll over in my sleep, but the grip on the back of my body tightens. Voices above me sound distant. Some are deep. Some hysterical. Some quiet. Some loud. I feel the urgency in the person holding me. They are running.

The bounce of the motion bobs my head and turns my stomach. I try to turn, but they don't let me. Water droplets hit my face. More screams sound around me until I get the strength to twist out of their arms, landing on my side. Eventually flopping onto my stomach, I get to all fours and vomit what feels like my entire soul from my body.

Looking up, I see the person, who I assume was carrying me. All the figures around me are blurry. My eyes were never good without correction. Contacts were too expensive to buy - is my excuse, but really, I'm too chicken to put anything in my eye. Glasses for me all the way.

When I try to hold my weight on my right arm, the arm gives and burns at the wrist. Whatever shirt I have on is long sleeved. I use it to try to wipe my eyes. It makes the figures a little clearer, but not enough for me to make out the details. Another wave of dizziness hits and my stomach lurches. Just sitting up on my knees proves to be too much movement.

'Your highness..' a shaky voice begins as he makes a move to pick me up.

I don't know what they mean by this. The only royal I have ever been was in my imagination as a little girl. The man doesn't get to finish his sentence. A thunderous crack, sounding like thunder, nearly deafens all around. The man pushes me into the arms of another, causing my stomach to lurch again. This man isn't as gentle as the last. He hoists me over his shoulder and runs. Though there is nothing left in my stomach, all the bile comes out down the back of the man. He doesn't seem to notice, nor care. I can't tell much about what is going on.. but from the smells and the screams, it sounds like war.

I'm tossed on a sack of something lumpy. The room smells musty, like a basement or root cellar. 'For your own safety, little prince, keep your ass here. If your brother finds you, it will be the end of all we know!'

With that, all the light.. all the sounds.. are completely cut off. I sit in the same position I was thrown, laying on a lumpy bag. I rest my head and breathe, trying to make sense of this all.

In my thinking, I must have dozed off. I feel much better, my head less fuzzy and my stomach less nauseous. But my body hurts, regular aches and pains - nothing that I am not used to. Chemo takes a lot out of me, making me weaker than a baby. It doesn't feel like that though. And what just happened doesn't feel like a hospital at all.

Am I dreaming?

I have to be.. because I know.. I..

A sharp stabbing pain starting at the top of my head moves around and grips my skull in a vice grip. Like a movie shot on 35mm film, splotchy scenes roll past my eyes in a grainy mess. From the early life.. until their attempted suicide after being poisoned.

'Oh fuck,' I whisper at the last scene. This boy, young boy, was poisoned.. I let that sink in as my left hand patted my body. I found a lump on my chest. Sneaking through the tattered garment, I found something familiar to me.. glasses. After sliding them on my face, the room became clearer.

But what do I do now?

Sounds of battle seep through the cellar door. The man clearly wants me alive. And he calls me prince. I know from the movie reel that it is true, but why?!

My home health nurse finally agreed to help me end my 6 year battle with cancer. It was aggressive and came back each and every surgery. This last time, they took all my colon. So I'm really fucking cute shitting in a bag. That was my last surgery. They wanted me to do chemo once more to make sure everything was gone.. but tests came back the cancer spread - to my stomach and lower esophagus. They wanted to cut me more.. I refused. 6 years of playing like a ping-pong ball. Remission or not. Stressing my family, putting my parents in medical debt. My body was.. is.. tired. My soul tired. I am done.

But why am I alive? And why do I have control of this boy?

Wait.. wait..

Noises of a close battle sound right next to me, sending me into a panic. I can hear the metal clash against each other as they strike. Yells and screams of pain make their way into my dark space. That man wants this boy to live. Not to question this second chance, I decide to live for the boy, whoever he was..

I mutter, 'Well, little prince, we are going to get out of here, and never return.. They can think we are dead.'

In the darkness, I creep further into the back of the cellar - not before emptying an entire sack of potatoes, filling it with potatoes [I could tell by the smell] and other roots, plus a few hearty fruits - to find a way out. Castles or palaces always have secret passageways. I don't recall any in the grainy movie, but I cling onto the hope that there are.

My hands run across every surface of the stone, every crevice of the shelves [earning me a splinter], and all across the floor. Tears of frustration burn my eyes. No.. No.. This boy isn't quick to cry, like me. We have to be tough.. tougher now that we are a boy. And have a nearly perfectly healthy body! A slight ping of jealousy spikes through me, but I push that down and try pulling at the tall shelves. Eventually one gives way. A gust of musty air, damper than the air in the cellar wafts my nose. I pull the shelf harder and get rewarded. A way out.