Defying Equilibrium: Book II

Chapter 17: A fairytale

Hiya guys! You know how much I love collaborating with people, so I was thinking....If anyone would like to contribute to The Lore Compendium, you are more than welcome to! If you have an idea for a short, fairytale-style story, then you can send it to me and I'll write it. Or, if you prefer, write your own and I'll publish it in the book with your name. How does that sound? Anyone interested? Also, the picture this time is Louise and Alfie. As always, love to get feedback from you guys!

xCinda

She loved the way the book felt in her hands, the soft red leather of the cover against her palms and the soft edges of the yellowed pages on her fingertips. She ran her fingers over the words on the front, the strange round symbol in the centre, and the metal binds on the corners. She loved the way books smelled too, like the study back home. It smelled like warmth, like comfort, like curling up by the fireplace to read to her younger brother.

The Lore Compendium: Tales of Love, Betrayal, Truth & Hope

Her eyes rested on the title of the book Alfie had given her. He knew that Louise had always loved fairytales. Maybe it was the picture perfect endings that she loved, because she knew that real life would never be like that. She had learned from an early age that there was a difference between stories and reality. In fairytales, no one sat around in a dirty encampment all day praying that their name would not be called for duty.

That was all that she did nowadays. Ever since her first day on patrol, the day when she let that swordsman live, her name had yet to be called again. What she had said to the swordsman was true – she had always been pretty lucky.

She couldn't get the swordsman out of her mind, she kept replaying the scene over and over in her mind. How long had he lain there after she had left him? Had he even survived, or did he bleed out slowly once she ran away? Maybe it would have been a kindness to kill him. Maybe she would have spared him the suffering of a slow death. But she would never know, and it tormented her.

That never happened in fairytales either, the not knowing. Characters were always either dead or alive. You grieved or you rejoiced. Never this insistent ignorance, the constant wondering whether she had done right by him. By herself.

She heard footsteps approaching from the corridor, and quickly hid the book underneath her coat. Alfie had stolen the book from somewhere, and she didn't want anyone to find it or get him in trouble. But it was only Alfie, and he smiled at her as he threw her a package.

"Swiped you some breakfast," he said, sitting down beside her. She took it gratefully and began to eat, as did he.

After a small silence, she said, "I have to get out of here."

He paused contemplatively. "We all do. But it ain't happening any time soon."

She shook her head. "I don't think I can take much more of this, Alfie. I think I'm going crazy. This place, it's making me crazy."

"But there's nothing you can do about it. You know that, Raven. I hate this just as much as you do, you know I do, but this is our life now. Might as well...I don't know, stick it out."

She scowled. "Why are you always so freaking defeatist, Alfie?"

He shrugged, and fixed up his glasses. "What's the point in being otherwise?"

For some reason this made her mad. Where the hell did he get off, telling her that there was no point defying your fate? "If you just resign yourself to take whatever comes at you, then you will never get anywhere with your life! How do you expect to survive here with that kind of attitude, how do you expect to get back home?"