Rumplestiltskin Revisited

This is the beginning of a story I am working on. It actually came from a journal prompt in class, but I really enjoyed it! I hope you all enjoy it too! I would love to read what you all are writing too!

Happy NaNoWri,

Kayla

 

How the heck did I get in this mess? Men, that’s how. First, my father tells the king I can spin straw into solid GOLD. Who sells their daughter out like that? I have never even used a spindle before. I know what happened to ‘Sleeping Beauty’ and I just am not about that life. My dear, old father only wanted his daughter to be queen, I suppose that is not so bad. It almost sounds sweet, until I remember that he was probably a hundred percent sure I was going to die the next day. Now that I am thinking about it, he probably was trying to kill me. Murder by kingly lust as a romantic ring to it.

Anyways. I am sitting in the drafty and stone tower in the middle of the night and I’m about to die, when this egg shape of a man comes knocking on my window. Now I am not in the habit of answering strangers knocks, but what is a girl supposed to do in this situation? He’s got this leering smile that makes me feel like ants are crawling in my hair. We both know that he can give me what I need and I cannot refuse him. So, obviously I let him spin the straw for me. I get to live while he gets my first born child and a little something extra for his time. It seems like an even trade to me.

As if all of this wasn’t traumatic enough, now my husband, the king of the world, thinks that I am pregnant. He is so certain that he announced it to everyone in the palace without even asking me. News flash buddy, we haven’t even consummated our marriage. That’s right, call me the Virgin Queen. It is amazing how effective rum is in disguising what is really going on. But, back to panic mode. How in the world am I supposed to produce a baby and then explain why the baby has disappeared? Who even told him that I was pregnant? I am not giving either of those two worms any of my children. When bargains are struck, promises are made on the inside. That day, I vowed I would never ever have any children. I just have to figure a way out of this nonsense.

Published by

alchemistreview

The literary journal of the University of Illinois at Springfield.

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