The Curious Tale of the Starry-Eyed Princess: Chapter Three

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“If you really didn’t want to kidnap me, why not just say so?” Maryn sighs, plopping down on a mossy rock.

The dragon shifts. “You were so… insistent. It’s hard to say no to an insistent princess.”

Maryn scowls, tapping her cane on the ground as little, furry sprites scurry around her feet. The dragon’s cave isn’t high up in the mountains like you’d expect with a beast who has affiliation with the weather, but rather nestled a little above the valleys of the mountain range. The caves are warm (“Always comfortable,” the dragon was eager to boast), and awfully sponge-y with moss. As far as Maryn understood, that’s how the caves got their names — “Marshmallow,” after the gooey candy that comes overseas from the east, though gooey isn’t a word she’d like to use to describe the soft layer she sits on.

One of the furry sprites pushes into Maryn’s hand, dropping something into it. It’s firm, but she can press into it a little, almost like a grape that won’t pop. “What…?”

“They like to give gifts,” the dragon practically purrs, proud of the inhabitants of its caves. “That’s a sort of toy, a ball that can bounce to extreme heights if I understand the sprites correctly. It also has magical power infused into it by… Oh. Well, maybe we’d best leave that part out.”

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The Curious Tale of the Starry-Eyed Princess: Chapter Two

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Prince Garytt of Stuwart woke the entirety of the castle with his screaming.

The servants down the hall all look around at each other, none of them wanting to go and assist the prince. The woman with the most seniority among the servants eyes the boy with the least. “Weren’t you about to say, ‘It can’t get any worse?’”

The others murmur in agreement.

“Hey, he didn’t know the prince would react to the flooding like this!” The boy’s friend says, puffing out his chest. “It can’t be that bad on the top floor of the castle, anyhow.”

The woman rolls her eyes. “Fine. If it’s not that bad, why don’t you two dumb sheep go and assist the prince with his wailing?”

The first boy glowers at the second, but they both leave the room in a rush — better to not have to deal with an angry boss and a prince’s temper tantrum.

With much hesitation and even more dread, the boys follow the screaming down the hall and to the ornate doors that they practically have to push each other through.

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The Curious Tale of the Starry-Eyed Princess: Prologue

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This isn’t really an adventure story. But it sounds like one, you think. This is a trick, you say. You’re getting annoyed I’m trying and failing to read your thoughts, you huff.

But it isn’t an adventure story. This isn’t really anything, yet.

Right now, it’s a princess in her tower, fiddling with working secret messages into her embroidery. She spent long hours mastering the art of embroidering with her blindness, though her hands weave a unique perspective no one else sees. She wishes for something more important for her deft hands.

It’s a prince galavanting out in the night to show off his prize horse. He’s proud of the horse, of course, but the prince secretly longs to be wrapped in his hand-woven exotic unicorn shawl, appreciating his abstract portrait with his prize pet in his arms. The prince gives a dramatic sigh, wishing he could find someone foolish enough to appreciate him like he does himself.

A dragon sleeps in its cave, diamond scales glittering in shafts of stardust as it snores out clouds of frost. In its head it battles knights and other monsters, paws twitching. It doesn’t fight, however. These aren’t dreams for the poor dragon. Night terrors creep along the beast’s thoughts.

The lone sorceress sits in a field, reciting enchantments in a whispering voice.  Her dark hair falls in front of her face, her voice rising and rising until it reaches a crescendo and booms through the sky and… nothing happens. Her lisp thwarted her enchantment again. One of the most powerful magic workers of her time, all the masters said. But she’ll never be able to use it.

These people have never met. They have no reason to. Their stories are small, insignificant things that will only mean something to themselves.

Until you tell their story.


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Table of Contents

Prompts Used:

  • A friend named Leslie gave me the basic characters for this (so it’s her fault). No other prompts — yet.

Author’s Note:

And it finally begins again. Every Monday a new chapter will be posted that will work in prompts that you, the reader, give. Stealing the prompting guidelines from the project’s about page:

Prompt by Tweet, Facebook, Tumblr, or just comment on any of the chapters posted! The prompt window is open all the time and there are no limits on how many promptsPlease keep it within reason, though! If things get overwhelming (highly doubtful), I’ll be putting stricter guidelines up. Also try to keep prompts relatively PG-13. I reserve the right to say no to a prompt, but I’ve never done so even with two other prompt projects under my belt.

If you’d like to see the story continue, please give a prompt! They can be anything, even just a word. But things like music, and pictures, and poetry, or videos, or Tweets, or whatever work!

So, let’s see how far this insanity goes, shall we?

Bacon, out.
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