Short Stories from Yours Truly

Prince Philippe and King Clawde

Once upon a time, there was a grand kingdom entirely inhabited by mice and ruled by the wise Mouse King and Mouse Queen. Their son, Prince Philippe, was to rule one day soon, as well.

Prince Philippe was an amazing young mouse. He had everything he ever could have wanted, and he wanted everyone else to have everything they have ever wanted, too. It was said that whenever he rode out in his moonstone chariot (pulled by docile crickets, in case you didn't know), happiness and light would flood the land. No one could ever be truly sad when Prince Philippe was present.

Now it so happened that one day as he was riding through the land, a great and terrible storm struck. The poor prince almost got lost, but thankfully, he recognized a cave nearby and ducked inside. There, he spent the night.

He dreamed of a beautiful maid, more beautiful than he had ever imagined. Her eyes glimmered like chips of onyx. Her fur was a most delightful shade of chestnut brown, with a band of white encircling her skull. It looked nearly like a crown. Philippe knew instantly that she was his true love; this may seem incredibly silly to those who know the real world. To those cynical people, please do me a favor and shut your yap. This is a story.

Anyways, Philippe dreamed that his love was in a tall tower carved from the side of a cliff. She didn't seem lonely or bitter. She only seemed... waiting. And with the same certainty he knew his name, Philippe knew that she was waiting for him.

The only problem was, he did not know where the dream was. He awoke, and looked on all of his maps for an area marked, "steepe cliffs be here," but none existed.

Prince Philippe lost heart and wondered if his love were real; even though he sensed that she was, his doubts began to overcome him. A single tear fell from his eye.

"Why's 'e crying?" A creaky voice interrupted his musings.

"Cos 'e's lost 'is princess, 'e 'as," Another voice piped up. This voice was not creaky, like an old door, but scratchy, like the old woolen sweater that you received when you were eight and haven't worn since.

"No!!!! Ya stupids, that's later in the story, that is!!!!" A third voice scolded. This voice sounded even worse than the first two; it was a voice I can only describe as sounding like rusty nails.

Prince Philippe turned around, trying to get a glimpse of the owners of these hideous voices; but he could not see an inch in front of his whiskers. He felt his way forward, desperately trying to find his chariot, where he could get some matches and lamp-oil. The young mouse fell over something in the dark; was it a body? No. Just a rock.

"'E can't see!!" The first voice squeaked triumphantly.

"Well, then light the fire, you dopes!" The second advised.

Almost immediately, a fire sprung up, cheery as any hearth-fire in Prince Philippe's own quarters. Sitting around it were three old mice with gnarled hands and crooked tails. He approached them cautiously.

"Hello," he greeted. "I am Prince Philippe of this country, but I am lost and looking for my true love. Do you think that I could help you? I would be happy to pay you or give you food." I looked from one old mouse to the other.

"We can tell you," the first crone squeaked. "But a price, yes, a weighty and ponderous burden."

"We don't want money!" The second mouse screeched. "We want three nights' food."

"And at your wedding, you will invite us and treat us as though we are your sisters!!!" The third mouse added.

Then the first mouse named their last condition. "And after the wedding, you will take your mighty sword and chop off all of our heads!!!"