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flipflop_divaThis week we had to write two entries. This is my second one.
Once upon a time, there lived a young girl …
Wait. No. Scratch that. We’re not going to do this. This isn’t a fairy tale. Well, at least not in the sense of a young girl with a torturous, soul-crushing childhood ending up being saved by the prince of her dreams and getting to live happily ever after with her singing animal friends and wonderful loving in-laws in a most fabulous castle that ever was while the evil villains of her story rot away forever or perish in a fiery blaze or whatnot.
No, this is definitely not that kind of fairytale. In fact, in this story, she saves him. Or rather her. Because like I said, this isn’t a fairy tale. This is something much different.
Well, mostly different anyway. There are some similarities. Like a young girl with a not bad, but not really good childhood. And a castle. And some princes. And a talking animal. Sort of. I mean, it’s a dog, and the dog can’t talk per se. But our young girl — young woman, really. She’s eighteen when our story starts — can hear the dog’s thoughts. It’s a gift she has, passed down from her grandmother to her and from her grandmother’s grandmother before her and so on and so forth.
So yes, some similiarities. But again, not a fairy tale. Just a story. Of a young woman and a royal family and a talking dog and ….
Well, maybe I should just start from the beginning. And in the beginning — of our story at least — it is winter of the year our heroine is eighteen years old. We’ll call her Maribelle, since that is her name.
Maribelle lives when our story starts where she’s always lived, in a very small one-room cottage behind not the most magnificent castle you can imagine but a really nice castle that most people would be more than happy to call home. Especially the four people who live in the really small cottage. And I do mean small. There is only one bed, one dresser, one table, one kitchen that is barely big enough to stand in, a bathroom that definitely can’t hold more than one person at a time and four little chairs — enough for Maribelle, her exhausted and overworked father and her twin six-year-old brothers.
Up until the twins were born, the cottage was home to Maribelle and both her parents, but not everyone in their world survives childbirth, and unfortunately, Maribelle’s mother was one of the statistics. So Maribelle’s father became a single parent to three children while also taking care of every detail of the royal family’s castle and grounds.
Maribelle did what she could, being more of a mother to those boys than anyone could possibly be, but life wasn’t exactly tiaras and carriages.
Oh, and I forgot the dog. Which is silly since the dog is a very important part of our story. The dog — Billy is his name —tried to share the one bed with the four other people in the household when he was a puppy, but then Billy grew a little too big, so now Billy has his own bed at the foot of the bed. Because who needs room to walk in a cottage you live in?
So as our story starts, Maribelle has turned eighteen and is beginning to think about the future. Except what future does a girl who never attended school and has no friends have? Also, could she really leave her little brothers to her exhausted, overworked father? None of it is very heartening.
And so one day, when she is feeling particularly glum, she is sitting outside in the cold, bundled up in a jacket and gloves and scarf, and watching the goings on at the castle. There is a line of carriages, and one by one a prince more handsome than the last gets out and makes his way up the long driveway to the castle’s towering front entrance.
“Which one do you think Princess Alanna is going to pick?” Maribelle asks Billy the dog.
“None of them,” Billy answers. “They all look like douches.”
“I don’t think you’re supposed to say that word.”
“I’m a dog. I can say whatever I want.”
“Good point,” Maribelle says. “But doesn’t she have to pick one? It’s what her parents want for her.”
“It’s not what she wants,” Billy says, and Maribelle knows this is the truth.
As the groundskeeper’s child, Maribelle isn’t allowed to go near any of the royal family, but that has never meant that Princess Alanna isn’t allowed to go near her. Well, it has meant that, but Princess Alanna is a bit of a rule-breaker, and she has always preferred the company of Maribelle and her brothers over her own family. It makes Maribelle sad to know that soon Alanna will be shipped off to some other kingdom, never to be seen again.
“I think you should dress up like a prince and go woo her off her feet,” Billy says next, and Maribelle gives him an exasperated look.
“Yeah, right,” she says. She takes one second to wonder if she has any clothes that even look princely, and then shakes her head. “That would never work.”
“Okay,” Billy says. “Then just walk in as you and sweep her off her feet.”
“Are you insane?” Maribelle asks.
“I don’t know,” Billy says. “Am I the one having a conversation with a dog right now? Am I the one who sleeps in the same bed as three other people?”
Maribelle scowls. She hates when her dog has a point. But she hates more that there’s really nothing she can do.
Except, as it turns out, Princess Alanna rejects all the suitors on that cold wintry day. Her parents are not thrilled. They want their daughter to pick someone, anyone, even if it’s not a young man from a neighboring castle.
And so they plan a ball. A ball in which they throw up their hands and invite anyone who might want to woo the princess. Billy says they think if Alanna sees her options, she’ll definitely pick a prince.
“But she won’t because she’ll pick you,” Billy says.
“How is she going to pick me when I’m not there?” Maribelle says, rolling her eyes. But Billy just wags his tail and slobbers all over her.
A week later, Maribelle comes inside from a walk with her brothers to find a dress waiting for her. Not a ballgown, so to speak, but a dress made from shimmery gold satin, matching the flecks in Maribelle’s eyes.
She stares at Billy. “Did a flock of birds sew this for me?” she asks suspiciously.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he says. “I stole in from the castle giveaway pile.”
“No.” Maribelle shakes her head. “You want me to wear the royal family’s garbage to a ball at their own castle?”
“I said giveaway, not garbage,” Billy says, and then he stretches his legs and moves over to his own bed that he shares with no one else where he rolls around … and around … and around.
And so Maribelle gives in. And she goes to the ball. And she tries to pretend that she fits in and isn’t horribly out of place. And she tries not to notice the looks she gets from the royal staff who live in the castle and not out on the grounds. And when the dancing starts and all the handsome princes twirl around the floor with all the beautiful girls, she tries to see if she can blend into the wall. Or maybe become one with a puddle on the floor.
She holds out for a long time. At least it seems like a long time. But this was always a stupid idea, and she turns to go, to exit this ball and go back to her life. But as she turns, she sees the princess, clutched tightly by a prince with a horrible goatee who seems to be trying to eat her ear. As the prince and princess spin around the floor, Maribelle sees Alanna’s face, how disgusted she looks, how miserable.
And every ounce of bravery that she has ever mustered comes to Maribelle right then, and she marches across that dance floor and she taps Alanna on the shoulder and she asks, loud and clear, “Would you like to dance?”
And in the silence that follows, Maribelle plots how she will run away and never return, maybe become a recluse, or at the very least change her name and learn a new language.
“I would be happy to,” Alanna says, and the prince’s face turns bright red in disbelief, but Alanna is sliding into Maribelle’s arms and they are gliding across the dance floor, and Maribelle can’t believe this is happening, especially when Alanna whispers to her, “I was hoping you would ask.”
Six hours later, Alanna asks Maribelle if she wants to get out of there, maybe go to her cottage?
“There’s only one bed,” Maribelle finds herself saying, but Alanna is squeezing her hand.
“It’s okay,” Alanna says. “We have a lot of beds here.”
And so with that, our story reaches an end. This part of our story anyway. For fairy tales aren’t real and nothing is ever that easy, but let’s just say that Alanna and Maribelle found their ever after at that party that night.
Or, at least the beginning of it anyway.
Fiction.
This was written for the new season of![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
therealljidol, Wheel of Chaos! If you liked my entry, please consider voting for me or any of the other amazing contestants. You can find all the entries here. Look for the voting post on Monday night!
Once upon a time, there lived a young girl …
Wait. No. Scratch that. We’re not going to do this. This isn’t a fairy tale. Well, at least not in the sense of a young girl with a torturous, soul-crushing childhood ending up being saved by the prince of her dreams and getting to live happily ever after with her singing animal friends and wonderful loving in-laws in a most fabulous castle that ever was while the evil villains of her story rot away forever or perish in a fiery blaze or whatnot.
No, this is definitely not that kind of fairytale. In fact, in this story, she saves him. Or rather her. Because like I said, this isn’t a fairy tale. This is something much different.
Well, mostly different anyway. There are some similarities. Like a young girl with a not bad, but not really good childhood. And a castle. And some princes. And a talking animal. Sort of. I mean, it’s a dog, and the dog can’t talk per se. But our young girl — young woman, really. She’s eighteen when our story starts — can hear the dog’s thoughts. It’s a gift she has, passed down from her grandmother to her and from her grandmother’s grandmother before her and so on and so forth.
So yes, some similiarities. But again, not a fairy tale. Just a story. Of a young woman and a royal family and a talking dog and ….
Well, maybe I should just start from the beginning. And in the beginning — of our story at least — it is winter of the year our heroine is eighteen years old. We’ll call her Maribelle, since that is her name.
Maribelle lives when our story starts where she’s always lived, in a very small one-room cottage behind not the most magnificent castle you can imagine but a really nice castle that most people would be more than happy to call home. Especially the four people who live in the really small cottage. And I do mean small. There is only one bed, one dresser, one table, one kitchen that is barely big enough to stand in, a bathroom that definitely can’t hold more than one person at a time and four little chairs — enough for Maribelle, her exhausted and overworked father and her twin six-year-old brothers.
Up until the twins were born, the cottage was home to Maribelle and both her parents, but not everyone in their world survives childbirth, and unfortunately, Maribelle’s mother was one of the statistics. So Maribelle’s father became a single parent to three children while also taking care of every detail of the royal family’s castle and grounds.
Maribelle did what she could, being more of a mother to those boys than anyone could possibly be, but life wasn’t exactly tiaras and carriages.
Oh, and I forgot the dog. Which is silly since the dog is a very important part of our story. The dog — Billy is his name —tried to share the one bed with the four other people in the household when he was a puppy, but then Billy grew a little too big, so now Billy has his own bed at the foot of the bed. Because who needs room to walk in a cottage you live in?
So as our story starts, Maribelle has turned eighteen and is beginning to think about the future. Except what future does a girl who never attended school and has no friends have? Also, could she really leave her little brothers to her exhausted, overworked father? None of it is very heartening.
And so one day, when she is feeling particularly glum, she is sitting outside in the cold, bundled up in a jacket and gloves and scarf, and watching the goings on at the castle. There is a line of carriages, and one by one a prince more handsome than the last gets out and makes his way up the long driveway to the castle’s towering front entrance.
“Which one do you think Princess Alanna is going to pick?” Maribelle asks Billy the dog.
“None of them,” Billy answers. “They all look like douches.”
“I don’t think you’re supposed to say that word.”
“I’m a dog. I can say whatever I want.”
“Good point,” Maribelle says. “But doesn’t she have to pick one? It’s what her parents want for her.”
“It’s not what she wants,” Billy says, and Maribelle knows this is the truth.
As the groundskeeper’s child, Maribelle isn’t allowed to go near any of the royal family, but that has never meant that Princess Alanna isn’t allowed to go near her. Well, it has meant that, but Princess Alanna is a bit of a rule-breaker, and she has always preferred the company of Maribelle and her brothers over her own family. It makes Maribelle sad to know that soon Alanna will be shipped off to some other kingdom, never to be seen again.
“I think you should dress up like a prince and go woo her off her feet,” Billy says next, and Maribelle gives him an exasperated look.
“Yeah, right,” she says. She takes one second to wonder if she has any clothes that even look princely, and then shakes her head. “That would never work.”
“Okay,” Billy says. “Then just walk in as you and sweep her off her feet.”
“Are you insane?” Maribelle asks.
“I don’t know,” Billy says. “Am I the one having a conversation with a dog right now? Am I the one who sleeps in the same bed as three other people?”
Maribelle scowls. She hates when her dog has a point. But she hates more that there’s really nothing she can do.
Except, as it turns out, Princess Alanna rejects all the suitors on that cold wintry day. Her parents are not thrilled. They want their daughter to pick someone, anyone, even if it’s not a young man from a neighboring castle.
And so they plan a ball. A ball in which they throw up their hands and invite anyone who might want to woo the princess. Billy says they think if Alanna sees her options, she’ll definitely pick a prince.
“But she won’t because she’ll pick you,” Billy says.
“How is she going to pick me when I’m not there?” Maribelle says, rolling her eyes. But Billy just wags his tail and slobbers all over her.
A week later, Maribelle comes inside from a walk with her brothers to find a dress waiting for her. Not a ballgown, so to speak, but a dress made from shimmery gold satin, matching the flecks in Maribelle’s eyes.
She stares at Billy. “Did a flock of birds sew this for me?” she asks suspiciously.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he says. “I stole in from the castle giveaway pile.”
“No.” Maribelle shakes her head. “You want me to wear the royal family’s garbage to a ball at their own castle?”
“I said giveaway, not garbage,” Billy says, and then he stretches his legs and moves over to his own bed that he shares with no one else where he rolls around … and around … and around.
And so Maribelle gives in. And she goes to the ball. And she tries to pretend that she fits in and isn’t horribly out of place. And she tries not to notice the looks she gets from the royal staff who live in the castle and not out on the grounds. And when the dancing starts and all the handsome princes twirl around the floor with all the beautiful girls, she tries to see if she can blend into the wall. Or maybe become one with a puddle on the floor.
She holds out for a long time. At least it seems like a long time. But this was always a stupid idea, and she turns to go, to exit this ball and go back to her life. But as she turns, she sees the princess, clutched tightly by a prince with a horrible goatee who seems to be trying to eat her ear. As the prince and princess spin around the floor, Maribelle sees Alanna’s face, how disgusted she looks, how miserable.
And every ounce of bravery that she has ever mustered comes to Maribelle right then, and she marches across that dance floor and she taps Alanna on the shoulder and she asks, loud and clear, “Would you like to dance?”
And in the silence that follows, Maribelle plots how she will run away and never return, maybe become a recluse, or at the very least change her name and learn a new language.
“I would be happy to,” Alanna says, and the prince’s face turns bright red in disbelief, but Alanna is sliding into Maribelle’s arms and they are gliding across the dance floor, and Maribelle can’t believe this is happening, especially when Alanna whispers to her, “I was hoping you would ask.”
Six hours later, Alanna asks Maribelle if she wants to get out of there, maybe go to her cottage?
“There’s only one bed,” Maribelle finds herself saying, but Alanna is squeezing her hand.
“It’s okay,” Alanna says. “We have a lot of beds here.”
And so with that, our story reaches an end. This part of our story anyway. For fairy tales aren’t real and nothing is ever that easy, but let’s just say that Alanna and Maribelle found their ever after at that party that night.
Or, at least the beginning of it anyway.
Fiction.
This was written for the new season of
therealljidol, Wheel of Chaos! If you liked my entry, please consider voting for me or any of the other amazing contestants. You can find all the entries here. Look for the voting post on Monday night!
no subject
Date: 2025-12-02 11:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-12-03 09:11 pm (UTC)And in the silence that follows, Maribelle plots how she will run away and never return, maybe become a recluse, or at the very least change her name and learn a new language.
I loved this. I think everyone has unfortunately had experience with that type of silence at least once in their lives.
no subject
Date: 2025-12-04 11:25 pm (UTC)I honestly wish more people had happy endings. I like to think it would make them kind, if they were not already.
I enjoyed your story :)