I was bored out of my mind one day and just decided to write this. I'm planning on writing a children's book one day so that I can send myself on a mission trip to Africa and/or raise money for research for my little brother's cancer. So I decided that I might as well practice a little, because my writing skills are a little… umm… well they could use some improvement.

R&R

Thanks Guys,

Emma

THWUMP! Charna quite suddenly slipped off her stool and smacked her forehead against the windowsill. Seeing as to the fact that this particular windowsill happened to be made of stone, it hurt rather badly.

She let out a quick, involuntary bleat, with the result being that many villagers in the town far below suddenly looked up, quite shocked to hear what sounded very much like a dying goat coming from the turrets of the Princess's castle.

As she stumbled up, Charna let out a frustrated huff. Although strictly non-religious, she angrily cursed whatever higher being was so determined to keep her life non-cliché.

She knew cliché, she was a princess, cliché was the essence of her life. She had read all the books, Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, she knew how it was supposed to go.

She would sit by the window of her tower, hair glittering in the sunlight, face at the ideal angle to show the perfection of her silhouette. She would then charm all the men of the village below with the sweet music of her voice while her handmaid accompanied her on the harp.

One boy would fall desperately in love with her and run home to inform his parents- "Mum, dad, I'm leaving, off to win yonder fair maiden's heart. I shall brave the most fearsome dragons and climb the tallest mountain to prove myself. Though I am but a poor boy, I will work my fingers to the bones to buy a valiant steed and accomplish mighty deeds and thus win fair maiden's hand!"

Well, she had just been consulting her mirror on which way to hold her head so that she appeared to the best advantage, when the silk cushion on her stool slipped off and she went hurtling into the rather hard and unforgiving windowsill.

No matter, she did not believe that anyone had seen, although they had definitely heard.

"Leah", she turned and addressed her very worried looking accompanist, "could you be a dear and get me something to eat."

"Are you sure you wouldn't like a cold rag and some ice for that, Miss?", Leah asked hesitantly.

"No, just chocolate or bread or something to take my mind of the pain, thank you."

Leah left in a flurry of green skirts, not the standard attire for regular servants at the palace (because she worked directly for the princess, she was afforded certain privileges, like wearing green dresses, instead of black).

Charna had noticed that the palace seemed to be color coated. Servants wore black, royal handmaids and higher level servants (such as the cooks) got to wear green, and the royalty themselves were allowed to wear purple, blue, yellow, and/or white.

Realizing that the sun was setting and she didn't have much time left to woo the men below, she shifted her thoughts from color coated castles and quickly placed her backside right back on top of the stool, (although this time without the silk cushion) and prepared herself to try again.

She began to read this time (seeing as to the fact that she no longer had a harp player). She gracefully and carefully placed her elbow on the much hated windowsill, and stared at the milky white pages of her book.

She loved reading, but she was distracted by thoughts of whether or not anyone had seen her fall.

Unknown to Charna, there was someone staring up at her tower as she righted herself and began to read. A young boy of about seventeen. He was fairly thin and tall for his age, had dark brown hair, and his eyes… well, no one really knew what color to call them. He stared up at the tower in amusement, a grin plastered across his face.

…………

Sorry that this chapter is so short. I've already started the next one, and I promise that it will be longer.

Thanks,

Emma