Look what I found after snooping around my hard drive!
I made this mid-2012 to 2013. It was originally going to be my first upload, but I didn't like it and I still don't like it. I made it after reading Carrie by Stephen King (which is a great story, by the by) so this is really inspired by that. I could turn this into a better one-shot (focus on some parts more) but I guess I want to hear your suggestions first.
Just a quick warning: I'm not sure what anyone's religious beliefs are, and although I hate talking about religion (because it starts wars), I just let people know that there is a little religion-based stuff in here. If you get offended easily by religious parody, I suggest not reading this.
Well, I think that's about it.
Enjoy ~
She was a small, young girl with sapphire eyes that had an innocent gleam. Her hair was a light brown color, like that of chocolate, and it nearly reached her bottom. Her dress was golden, like the sand that flooded her kingdom. Splatters of white fabric had been sowed on at the hue, giving her such a simplistic look. She had a perfectly round face that her late mother shared, and her skin was the color of crème.
There was no crown upon her head, although she was a royal. The princess is far too young to wear a crown, her father had once said. The princess did not like this rule, but she took it all in stride. One day, she knew she would be wearing a golden crown on her perfectly round head. It would have jewels of all colors laced on the outside. On the front, it would have that green emerald that belonged to her mother, and that emerald would have the frame of a daisy surrounding it. She would truly be a queen with such a crown.
Today, however, she was merely a princess, with no crown upon her head and no land to rule over.
As the castle halls flooded with servants, guards, and commoners, the princess started to feel lost in her own home. It was like this every morning. The residents of the kingdom would all gather around and try to squeeze into the small room that was the chapel, for there was no church in the Sarasin kingdom. The chapel was made of marble, with stain glass windows that showed different events in the Legacy. There were thousands of chairs in the chapel; all of them turned towards a marble alter.
The morning ceremony was about to start. The princess stood against the wall and let the people through. She wondered what it would be like if she skipped today's ceremony and made up for her prayers later. Father wouldn't chastise her much, would he?
No. Mother wouldn't allow it.
This, however, is one instance where the princess had forgotten that Mother wasn't here.
"Tell me why you weren't at this morning's ceremony, Daisy."
Princess Daisy was on her knees with her head down. Father towered above her, with the Legacy in hand. There was a look of disgust on his face – a look that Daisy had never seen – and his free hand was balled into a fist. Father was clean shaven, but everyone knew he was old. There were crow's feet on his eyes and wrinkles around his mouth. Mother had the same kind of wrinkles, Daisy recalled. She said that they were caused by smiling and laughing throughout one's life. But, thinking back to it, Daisy had never seen Father smile.
"Speak to me," his voice was sharp.
"I was ill, Father." Daisy kept her head down. She didn't want to look into the eyes of a disgusted father. "I didn't feel like I could go today. But I'll make it up. I promise I will."
"Of course you will." Father took the Legacy in both hands and flipped to a page. "When the child spoke to her father, she told a dirty lie, and she casted upon all the others the first sin of fable. Say it."
"Father, please, I'll –"
"Say it!"
"- I promise I will!"
He took the book and pushed it into her face, repeating himself once more. "She casted upon all the others the first sin of fable! SAY IT!"
"The first sin of fable!" Daisy looked up at her father, "I promise I'll make up for it, Father, please!"
"And out of the fable came the rebellion. Say it!"
"And out of the fable came the rebellion!" Daisy's voice started to crack and she felt a lump in her throat. Breathing became a chore. "I only did it this once, Father! I'll never do it again! Honest! I'll pay more attention " – she inhaled – "I'll say my prayers often" – she inhaled – "and I'll be better! I promise!"
Father slammed the book shut and set it down carefully on the alter behind him. "You will be the one to destroy the peace in our kingdom. I know it. I've always known it."
Daisy wasn't shouting anymore. She started to scream. "NO, FATHER, PLEASE! I PROMISE I'LL BE BETTER! I WON'T DESTROY THE PEACE IN THE KINGDOM, HONEST! FATHER!"
"I asked our lord for a son, and what does he give me?!"
"DON'T SAY SUCH THINGS, FATHER!"
"A lying daughter! A no-good daughter to rule over the kingdom once I'm in the Overthere!"
"FATHER!"
Father grabbed Daisy's arm and shook her. "Go to your closet."
"FAATTHHHERR!"
"Go to your closet!"
She tried to wiggle out of his iron grip, but he started to drag her across the floor. She was kicking and screaming – hot tears running down her cheeks. Father opened the closet door and dragged her in. He let go of her inside the dark room and strode out. The wooden door was slammed shut. Daisy started to bang on the door. She was screaming unintelligible nothingness for a few moments before her father's voice overpowered her own.
"I will let you out when I see you have learned. Rid yourself of such lies. I saw you this morning before the ceremony, and you looked right as rain. Now ask for forgiveness from the Great Lord Grambi!"
Daisy started to protest, but she heard the doors to the chapel close. Shakily, she reached for a match. She lit it and the flame kissed the waxy string of an old candle. She blew the match out and put it to the side. All she could do now was pray and hope that Father would come soon.
Daisy had spent three days in her closet. Each day felt like an eternity, and every time she heard her father's footsteps, she would look at the door with anticipation, only to find that he wasn't coming for her.
It had been years since that epidemic, but the words that Father had said still rung in Daisy's ears:
"I asked our lord for a son, and what does he give me?! A lying daughter! A no-good daughter to rule over the kingdom once I'm in the Overthere!"
Princess Daisy knew that her father preferred men over women. She remembered that Mother sometimes spent her nights in Daisy's room rather than her own.
Father wanted a son. That was all he asked for. That was all he wanted.
But a lying, no-good daughter was next in line for the throne.
Daisy was a young woman now. Eyes that once held an innocent gleam were now corrupted by angst. Her hair reached her bottom in such a way that she could sit on it if she wanted to. Her skin was lightly tanned now, but it held the same color of crème it once did.
Daisy grabbed a knife on the vanity. She held it by the blade at first, cutting her palm. It fell to the floor, making a high-pitched clank as it did. She mentally scolded herself for being so stupid.
Holding the knife by the handle, she put it up to her hair. It was roughly at shoulder length. Then she started hacking at it. She was careful, though, not to cut her neck open.
When her arms were weak, she was left with brown hair that barely reached her shoulders. Piles of hair surrounded her feet. She thought that she would clean it up soon.
Walking over to a mirror, Daisy looked at herself. She tried her hardest to look like a man. She puffed her chest out, but one thing was very wrong - those two lumps on her chest. She cupped them and tried to push them back in with all her might. This only brought pain. She tried even harder, but there was only more pain.
Why couldn't she have been born a boy? What had she done in a past life to deserve this?
"Princess Daisy, your father –"
Daisy turned around. The bottom of her dress spun. It was Toadette at the door. The mushroom girl focused on the pile of hair in the room. Before she could ask any questions, Daisy ordered her to continue.
"Your father, he is . . . he is not going to make it."
Princess Daisy was a tall, young woman, with sapphire eyes that told a long story. Her hair was still a light brown, and it nearly reached her back. Her dress was golden, like the one before it, and there were waves of orange around it. In the middle there was her mother's emerald, with a daisy frame around it. She still had the same round face that her late mother shared, and her skin was now a darker color of crème.
There was now a golden crown upon her head. She was not a queen, yet, for she was waiting for a king to rule beside her. When she did, she was sure that she would be a fine ruler and live up to her late father's expectations. Daisy often found herself starting to dwell on whom that king would be and what the future would hold for them.
Today, however, she was merely a princess, with a golden crown upon her head and Sarasaland in her palm.
I give this one-shot a whooping:
MEH out of WELL, IT WAS OKAY. . .
I just wish my younger self could have focused on the angst-y Daisy more. It's glazed over.
It's funny to look back at this old stuff I've written and laugh at how much I haven't improved. I've sort of stayed the same. I'm being serious.
I'll probably take this down when I find the will power to write a reboot.
Here's a fun game to play. It's called: Find out what it all means! Is there a deeper meaning behind what I wrote?
One-shots are definitely my strong suit. Multi-chapter stories: eh, not so much.
Criticism or not, all reviews are accepted!
- Great Mistake