The Tragedy of the Petite Princess

The Rebellion

She was small but her frame exuded the wily ways of an eighteen year old. Her hands were on her hips, her pale face reflected on the round mirror showing her eyebrows moving closer to each other. She hated her look but instead of picking a dress herself she snapped at the maid who shook in fear causing the pillow of jewelries she held in her hands to fall. There was a small pause, followed by a loud sound as a heavy hand fell on the maid's cheek causing the pale face to redden. Again the hand fell so that the maid whose face was left now turned right. Again and again and again and again and again, the petite princess continued to slap the maid till the young worker fell on her knees sobbing and begging for forgiveness. Only then did the petite princess turn her head back to the mirror - a cue for the other maid to bring a yellow dress, the color of her hair. After straightening out the creases, the maid sighed in relief as the princess smiled at herself in the mirror caressing the diamond jewelry she adorned on her neck - a sign that the fastidious royal was at last satisfied.

Below the castle walls, a great commotion was brewing. Soldiers were fighting rebel forces who have successfully managed to enter the castle. Common men raged in rebellious spirit causing unprepared soldiers to fall one after another. They slaughtered one brave man after another shouting for the tyrant cowardly king to surrender. The stench of smoke and blood filled the air, loud cries of battle and despair echoed but none of this were felt inside the jubilant halls of the castle filled with merry music and the laughter of the rich and wealthy who continued to celebrate an occasion no one really cared to know. When the rebels broke the main doors, the celebration never stopped for all were drunk in the labor of drinking wine and liquor. Occupied in their merry making each man never noticed as a sword pierced through their flesh and bone causing blood to splatter on the delicacies placed on tables and mixing with red wine. Bronze, silver and gold plates and cutlery were thrown to the floor as chaos ensued. The sober ones began to run away but intoxicated they stumbled in their attempt which prevented them from succeeding to escape the rebels' swords. Soon, the jubilant halls became silent. The rebel men cried in victory yet the tyrant cowardly king was not among the dead. A high pitched voice rose in the air silencing the excited men who turned to listen. Stepping over the dead as she approached them, a red rose lady commanded for the victorious cries to cease. Her hair was the striking color of blood, her dress fell like the petals of a rose, eyes as bright as a red sun and lips like strawberry sweet yet sour in its demand for the tyrant king to be found immediately. The men scampered off, forcing open closed doors, seeking every corner, questioning any servant till they found the tyrant cowardly king lying in bed with several beauties, occupied with the labor of love-making. The angry mob broke through the doors causing the surprised beauties to scamper off. The tyrant cowardly king was surprised too, so much so that in shock and fear, he jumped off a window with only naked flesh and ran till he tripped upon a rock which sat beside a deep well. His body vanished into the hole.

It was at this moment that the petite princess had completely adorned herself with shiny accessories on her ears, neck and hands, humming to a tune no one could describe. She was ready for another day of merry making - just like every other day. In a fan fare of maids and butlers lining up to open her doors, she stepped outside her comfy nest and walked on a hallway lined with windows - transparent glass that made the rising gray smoke visible. With head held high and her maids holding the hem of her skirts, she walked with grace and poise followed by the many castle workers whose lives she owned. She walked as though there was a ceremony, petite feet going down floor to floor as she descended from her high place. She walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and then stopped walking because in front of her was a red rose lady who stood unfazed surrounded by her general and rebel men. The petite princess threw the hem of her skirt, screaming for soldiers to arrest the mob blocking her way. She screamed and screamed and screamed and screamed and screamed, but not one soul moved, she screamed till her throat was sore and she coughed at her own words. She was frustrated and annoyed and even more so when, with one word from the red rose lady, the maids and butlers whose lives she owned moved to restrain and gag her instead. The petite princess soon found herself standing behind bars of the dinghy and smelly dungeon below.