Waa… found this in my folder of ‘Old Stuff’. I think I wrote this for one of those one-hour writing exercises. Oh it’s horrible not being able to edit! aarrgh. But I think this one’s rather cute 🙂 Well, it shows what my writing is like first draft. Prepare to cringe! Aaarrgh..
I need to get out of here. I’ve been here for far too long, waiting for my prince to come and rescue me. I think he must have fallen asleep in the gutter, perhaps with a beer in his hands. Or has he perhaps forgotten the way to the Tower?
And where is that stupid dragon? He is supposed to be here an hour ago. I am hungry. I need to eat so I can concentrate on my escape.
I hear horse’s hooves tapping in he distance and run to the window. Then I see a him, my prince, the knight in shining armour, his stallion galloping towards the bridge that connects the Tower to the mainland. Well, we need the bridge because we are surrounded by bubbling lava that looks like a sea of boiling orange syrup. Very impressive … and so will I be when I smack the prince on the back of his head with my crown. Considering his lateness, that’s a highly merciful punishment.
“Oi!” I shout at him.
His horse screeches to a stop, almost hitting the wall of the Tower, and my prince looks up.
“Princess! Oh dear, are you alright?”
“Am I alright? AM I ALRIGHT?” I cry. “Where the heck have you been, you moron?”
“I had to… err… stop at the blacksmith’s shop.” It is obvious he is trying to find excuses, and he seems oblivious to the fact that he’s picked the lamest one. He takes his helmet off because it is not polite to speak to the princess with your face covered. I don’t know who made the rules as I much prefer his helmet on.
“Stopped at the blacksmith’s shop and stayed there for four months?” I wave my fist at him.
“I need a weapon to kill the dragon,” he explains. “Where is it anyway?”
I groan. “I had to despatch him to get me some food,” I answer, “and you are way overdue for the rescue, prince. I am going to make my own escape!”
“No!” he cries. “You can’t do that, princess. My reputation…”
“Your reputation?” I snort at him. “Your reputation is as good as dregs. Shame on you for abandoning me!”
“I didn’t abandon you, pr…”
I pick the nearest book and throw it out the window. It hits his head and bounces off to the pebbly ground. “Why don’t you just come back in fifty years so you can blame it on your senility? And yes I hope that book helps you reach that state sooner.”
“Let me explain, princess, I got distracted…”
“Distracted?” I roar in anger. “By whom?”
“Not whom, what.”
“I got distracted.”
“You said that already.”
“Well,” he tries again. “There is a war out there, you know.” He pauses, his hand rubbing the top of his head where my book has landed. “We were forced to prioritise.”
“I should be your priority, you imbecile! Do you know what it’s been like up here? It’s like summer twenty four hours a day and I don’t look good when I sweat!” I point at the lava behind him. “Plus, the dragon stinks like abandoned wee basin and he snores fire when he sleeps. See this tan? I haven’t been out sunbaking to get this! I like to buy me an air-conditioner but I don’t think it’s invented yet! It’s Hell in here, and all because of your whacked-head priorities!”
A roar breaks in the distance and the clouds part to reveal a silver dragon, wings open wide, flying towards us. I see the prince tenses up momentarily before he puffs out his chest and unsheathes his sword. He steadies his horse and fixes his eyes at the beast. He is ready.
The dragon does an impressive swooping motion towards the prince, hits his head with the talon and then darts across to the entrance of the Tower. It stretches its neck and attempts to breathe fire but ends up choking. It groans and tries again, but still chokes. Just before it tries for the third time, I shout at him. “Bruce, quit it!”
The dragon turns its head to me and then floats upwards, hovering in midair near the window. It waits obediently for my next instructions, at the same time giving me one of those puppy looks. You see, I understand the dragon because I have lived here for four bloody months.
“You named the dragon?” the prince asks in disbelief…. or something like it, I don’t know. I don’t understand the prince because I haven’t seen him for four bloody months.
The dragon flaps its wings and then lifts its talon to produce a candy which it places on my palm.
“You’re gone for hours only to get me a candy?” I complain. I see Bruce trying to come up with an explanation, but that, I haven’t managed to decipher yet in four months. But then the dragon flaps its wings some more and offers me a bow and a bag of arrows. I frown at him. “What are these for?”
The dragon grunts and nudges its head to the prince.
“I’m not going to shoot the prince, he has come to rescue me!”
The dragon gives me one of his puppy looks again so I roll my eyes. “I won’t kill him, but you can. That’s your job,” I tell him.
So Bruce roars again and breathes a sea of fire, burning the bridge, which is the only connection we have to the rest of the world. The prince gasps as he pulls the rein and gets the horse to gallop away from the fire. “Princess!” he cries.
“What? I’m not going to help you! The least you can do after what you’ve done is provide me with entertainment.”
He looks at me in horror.
Bruces soars into the sky, swirling around the Tower in yet another impressive swooping motion, before landing on the roof. The prince starts shooting arrows at Bruce, but they only bounce off the silvery scales. Bruce wriggles and spits fire at the prince, but the prince is quick, or at least his horse, galloping away to the northside of the ruins. The prince turns around and throws his sword at Bruce. The blade punctures the right wing. Bruce whimpers.
I place my chin on my palm and watch in amusement as the two play ‘who gets to keep the princess’. The battle goes on for a while, a lovely match of testosterone, building from mild burning and scratching, to dangerous bodily mutilation and limb amputation. But they don’t give up.
I decide to come between them before the prince loses his head (as it does come loose easily). “Okay, you can stop now!” I cry.
But they don’t stop. So I sigh, grab the book of magic from under the bed and chant a spell written on page twelve.
“Sarah!!!!” I hear my mother’s voice from downstairs. “You can come down now. Dinner’s ready!”
I smile and look at the clock on the wall. Seven thirty. I place my lego knight and my stuffed dragon back on the bed and run out of the bedroom.
The battle can wait. Nothing comes between me and dinner.