Fiona slowly crossed off the last day on her last calendar. She had been given eight. Too many her mother had told her. She recalled staring at them fearfully as a child, only to be reassured she'd never use them all. As a little girl, years hadn't seemed too long or daunting. Of course, in reality they dragged by. In two books she'd read, the characters had claimed how the years grew quicker. Fiona could only wish it was relatable; the years had only grown slower and slower for her.

She stared despondently at the crosses over each empty day. When she was younger, she would try to fill the days with ideas of what she could do. That lasted for a couple of years - it eventually faded out. Her eyes brightened a little, she could create her own calendar, that would take up some time. She ran her eyes over the days again, how could she even be sure this really was the last day of the year? It was her habit to cross off the day just before the sun set, it felt more complete for her to do it before the transformation took place. Except, that wasn't always her routine. How could she know she didn't forget as a silly child and miss a day? She would sometimes find a new task and forget, and realise the next day she needed to cross off a day extra. Sometimes she would take a nap and not really know if she'd crossed off the day or not. For all she knew the new year had happened a month ago. Or maybe it was a week away yet. It wasn't like there was any indication of knowing. Mondays didn't feel any different from Saturdays, nor Wednesdays to Fridays. Time was an abstract construct after all. Maybe she could forget her calendar altogether and live timelessly. Maybe she could write a book about it. It'd be such a boring book. Maybe she could go crazy and start counting the days using chalk on the walls. It was an idea. She peered behind the tapestry, staring at the blank wall. Maybe she wasn't quite there yet.

The transformation took over her body. It didn't catch her by surprise despite her distractedness, it never did anymore. She sighed, drawing her eyes back to the calendar. She was twenty years old. At least, she thought so. Her mother was married at eighteen. Waiting to get married at eighteen seemed like such a terribly long time as a child, being rescued and married at sixteen seemed much better to the princess. Of course, that only brought the daily disappointment sooner. Her frustration had only grown every day the sun would set and she would still be there.

That thought - the intrusive one she hated the most - resurfaced.

What if they'd forgotten about her?

It wasn't unreasonable. Eight years was a very long time. The memories of her parents and her life before the tower were slowly fading in her mind. She couldn't entirely remember all the posters she had in her room anymore, or what time breakfast used to be. If her memory was fading, of course others' would too - at a much faster rate. She was the one stuck in a tower room with nothing to do but reminisce about older times, everyone else got to have the outside world and their lives and each other. She couldn't remember the last time she felt busy. She wondered if they remembered her favourite colour or song, or the toys she treasured the most, her ideas of the future. Would they even know her upon her return? The longer she stayed, un-rescued, the more memories would fade, the further she would feel from her parents.

She creased her brow looking at that final day. Her mother had told her she wouldn't use all of the calendars. She would be saved by then. She should have made her promise. Not that it would've even mattered. She frowned. The second thought she hated entered her mind.

What if they sent her here only to get rid of her?

It made sense, after all. She looked down at her green hands. It was so inconvenient to not be able to stay anywhere overnight, to constantly worry about other people finding out. Her mother was still young enough to have another heir. They just needed her gone to forget about her and start again. Maybe that's why her parents never had another child. Maybe when they would always tell her she'd have a sibling one day, that was a lie. They were actually holding off until she was gone, so her sibling wouldn't even know her. They could just pretend she didn't exist. It made sense; then they wouldn't have two children harbouring her terrible secret. The kingdom would forget about her quickly with a new heir to celebrate.

Who was she kidding? Slaying dragons only happened in stories. This wasn't a story, as much as everyone used to tell her, this was real. She wandered over to the window; the window she had stared out of for so many days. Maybe no one would rescue her and she'd keep looking out at that lonely dark landscape forever. Maybe one day she would rescue herself. She allowed a small smile to fleetingly cross her lips. That would be a story. Still, if no one could even reach her to rescue her, there was no way she could ever get out. She was just a princess after all. She looked down at her hands once again, she was an ogre princess at that. It's not like anyone would accept her if she did escape, she'd be hated by everyone. Though, her ears perked up a little. As an ogre she was strong… if she were to play devil's advocate and think about escaping herself, perhaps it was possible… But strong enough to get past a dragon? Not even ogres could do that.

She rested her chin in her cupped hand, elbow leaning on the windowsill. Her thoughts then landed back in the safe territory she liked them in. Those troubling theories were very dramatic, and men were still coming to rescue her every now and again, only to meet their demise of course. No one ever got close. Except, maybe one day someone would. She allowed the dreamy thoughts to briefly captivate her mind once again.

Perhaps her parents really were awaiting her return. It's what they told her many times. Maybe they were growing as impatient and frustrated as she was. Maybe one day they would just call the whole thing off and take her home anyway.

But for now it was just a normal day, a day that might have been the end of the year. A new year approaching of constantly hoping and constantly being let down. In Far Far Away they would celebrate the new year, not that she was ever allowed to see those festivities from anywhere but her window. Still, the fireworks were much more pleasant company than spiralling dark clouds and a moat full of lava.

She sighed, there was nothing left to do other than go to bed. She looked out to the dark horizon, "Happy new year... I guess."

. . .

Happy New Year everyone! Or is it… Am I late?

So, a couple of people got to read this one early because it was included in this AMAZING book fauxgre created, printed, bound, and decorated entirely by himself. Go take a look at his blog to see how it was made! I'm obsessed with my copy!

W w w (D O T) fairytale-bookbinding-project (D O T) blogspot (D O T) c o m

FFN doesn't like links, remove spaces and add dots :)