Red Roses

February 8, 2008
By Rachel Smith, Roslyn, NY

You wake up to birds chirping. You hate birds with the utmost intensity because one of your old friends said that birds having the best singing voices. The noise fills the room driving you into a horrible mood.

“I don’t like birds!” You shout. No one comes to do anything about your complaint. You push your self out of your lavish silk bed and grab the nearest vase. You hurl it at the nearest servant. The vase misses the servant’s head by a mere inch. “I HATE BIRDS!” You holler as you start to throw a tantrum.

Your parents rush into your giant room. Your mother looks like a puppy that got kicked too many times. Your father looks as if he was about to be killed. “It’s okay my little princess. It’s okay.” You mother whispers as she reaches out to give you a comforting hug.

“Don’t touch me!” You exclaim. “You are a sorry excuse for a Queen,” you say as you grab a glass filled with roses, like your name. You hold the glass debating to throw it at your mother or at the birds. A minute later you decide the birds won’t understand if you insult them with words, so you toss it out the window at them.

Your father looks at you as if he wants to punish you. But he would never do that because you are the best person this kingdom, this world has ever seen. Your mother’s eyes are filled with terror.

You smile at your mother. “You know mother, it’s good I am to be Queen in but a week.”

Your mother and father nod quickly in agreement. “Yes, my darling princess of England. You will be the best queen this kingdom or any kingdom has ever come upon,” your mother says as she walks toward your closet.

“Thank you, mother,” you say, now realizing the stupid birds are gone. You touch your hand to your beautiful hair pushing it away from your face.

Your father walks out of the room, but not before bowing to you. Your mother opens your closet, letting your beautiful and expensive clothes be seen. “What would you like to wear today?” She asks. Your mother beckons over a small, pasty servant girl that is to help you dress.

“My sky blue summer gown. What else would I wear on a day like today?” you say. You can’t believe your mother would waste your time with a question as stupid as it was.

“Of course. Of course. Silly, silly me!” Your mother says as she pulls out the garment. The servant girl rushes over to her and gently takes the dress. “I’ll leave now. I will be sure to send your friends up.”

The servant girl removes your nightgown and places the corset around your already slender body. The servant girl starts to yank at the silk ribbon to tighten it. When she is done, she ties it in a bow at the back. “Can you breathe?” She questions.

“Of course, I can breathe. Stupid girl! It’s not like I weigh as much as a commoner. I am a princess, soon to be queen! I am dainty!” You shriek at the servant girl.

She trips backward, inching into a corner. “I’m sorry, madam. I didn’t mean it in that way. I was….I was just…,” She whimpers.

“Just being a stupid little servant. Leave this room. Leave this castle. Leave this kingdom! Or face a horrid fate,” you say. The servant girl scurries out of the room as your friends come into the room.

“Oh. Another servant being bad, I see,” One friend says sympathetically.

“Let me help you with your dressings,” A friend says as she rushes over to you.

“Your hair looks so very blonde today,” Another friend compliments.

“Your eyes look impeccably blue,” Other friends cooed.

You have your arms above your head as one of your countless friends helps slide on the summer gown. Once on, another friend rushes to your side to tie a bow in the back.

All of your friends gasp. “You look gorgeous.” They cry as they gather around you to bask in your beauty. One friend grabs silk blue slippers to place on your feet.

You smile at them, but behind your smile is pity for them. Pity due to the fact they are no where near as fabulous as you. You walk out of your room and start to descend the stairs.

Back in the room, your friends are talking about you without your knowledge.

“She is so utterly full of herself,” one says.

“Spoiled princess,” whispers another.

“She doesn’t have enough compassion to be Queen. Look at the poor little servant girl. She was so scared! I feel so bad for her,” says a third girl.

“What can we do? If we insult her, we are as good as dead! No, we will be dead,” says a different friend with fear and anger in her voice.

“We should go. Or our dearest princess will be upset,” Another friend says her voice pure sarcasm. Yet, at the same time all the girls knew she was right.

The girls rushed down the marble stairs to catch up with you. Your day goes on with people waiting on you.

It is two days before the ball in honor of you becoming Queen. You have spent the day with your friends having tea and sitting by the pond near the castle. Your friends have been complimenting you non-stop all day. It is just an hour past sunset, yet you are tired. The ball is coming soon and you must watch over all the preparations. You head to bed early.

While you sleep, commoners on a near by farm, where Edward works, are plotting. Edward, a simple farm hand, happens to over hear the commoners’ plan. He becomes extremely distraught for he is the only person in the whole kingdom who truly cares for you.

Two years ago, your carriage broke down right in front of the farm he worked on. You ordered him to fix your carriage and he fell madly in love with you.

Edward promises himself, that he will find a way to warn you, to save you.

It is around noon the day of the ball. You are so very excited and pleased. You sit in your room alone staring at the gown you are to wear tonight. It is a white gown with gold stitched into it. It is almost as gorgeous as you find yourself.

Edward sneaks into the castle. He is running around the castle in a panic. He has to warn you that tonight could very well be your last. Edward finds your room and pushes open the door.

You look at him in utter shock. “What are you doing here? And who are you?”

“I am Edward, a simple farm hand. I have come to warn you that people want to murder you tonight,” He says with a heavy heart.

You look at him as if he is crazy. Then you start to laugh. You laugh at him. “Silly man, you are. Everyone loves me. For I am divine,” you say as you continue to laugh. “If I were to die the whole world would want to die along with me. Without me living would be worthless to all.”

Edward looks at you, fear and pain in his eyes. “Please dear princess, don’t attend the ball. Tonight would be your last if you were to go.”

You are getting irritated with the farm boy. “I would never miss a ball. And I most certainly won’t miss one in my honor.” You say, your voice showing how annoyed you truly are.

Edward walks up to you and grabs your hands in his. “Please,” He begs.

You are very angry and you signal to a knight near your door. The knight walks into your room. “I want him gone.” You ordered. “Don’t let him come in again.”

The knight nods and drags Edward out of your room. The knight kicks Edward outside the castle. “Say out if you know what is good for you,” The knight growls.

Edward stares at the castle door, his heart breaking because you, the love of his life, is going to die.

It is minutes before the ball in honor of you becoming Queen is to start. You sit on your bed, already dressed in the elaborate white gown with the gold stitching. Your friends are going on and on about how perfect you are.

You stand up, realizing it is time for you to head down toward the royal ball room. You friends scurry down before you, so that they can be in the room when you arrive. You take a deep breath and walk toward the ball room.

The entrance to the ball room is a long set of marble stairs that lead toward the dance floor. As you walk down the marble stairs, everyone’s eyes are on you.

You are about halfway down the marble stairs, when you see the farm boy in the corner of your eye. He is rushing toward you. In an attempt to escape him you trip. As you fall, you hit your head on the multiple marble stairs. When your limp body touches the ground, people in the room begin to talk.

“Her blood is just as red as a rose.” A blonde girl about the age of ten says. She is your sister and that’s the only nice comment she has to say. Or for that matter, it’s the only nice comment in the room.

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