His mother worried about him endlessly. Magic enchantments just couldn't be good for a growing boy, she said. If he falls from a high place, he could break, she said. You must be very careful now Chip darling, she said.
And the truth was, he didn't need to be told at all.
He remembered once, a few years ago, he had accidentally broken one of the teacups. It slipped off the little platter he was carrying to a castle guest and splintered into sharp pieces on the hardwood floor of the castle.
It had been a white teacup, with little pink and lavender flowers around the top rim, and a delicate curved handle off to one side. There were a million of them in the castles many cabinets.
It had been a teacup of absolutely no consequence.
He felt terrible.
To fall, and to shatter, and to be left in little pieces. Surely there was no worse fate for a teacup.
He wanted to run, and play, and shout like the little boy he was.
But he had no legs to run with, and was too afraid of breaking.
So he stayed close to his mother, and did as she said, and jumped one space at a time when in high places.
And something inside shattered into a million tiny pieces.
Eh. I don't care for this chapter so much. Oh well.
Standard disclaimer, as usual.
- SilverInkblot
