Dying Love

June 3, 2010
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The invitation read, “You are invited to the Milfer Village Dance.” Just as surely as the fox knows to look for traps, Clara knew she would get an invite to the dance. Considering she is the Princess of Milfer. The Princess is the most beautiful and kind-hearted woman in the Village of Milfer. There is no surprise that the prettiest woman is absolutely invited to a dance.
Unfortunately, the Princess was stuck in the castle for the next few days because she endangered the well-being of a fairy. Princess Clara took the fairy and put her in a glass jar. There was the possibility that the poor fairy could suffocate in the closed jar. Of course, this was all in good fun but her father’s rule clearly says, “The endangerment of the well-being of a fairy will not be tolerated.” Clara broke this rule.
Upon reading the hand-crafted, most darling letter, Clara decided to break another of her father’s rules. She decided to sneak out of the castle and attend the ball. Wearing her new navy blue ball gown, the Princess fixed her hair and powdered her face. She inspected herself in the mirror. Her ivory skin complemented the darkness of her dress. Neatly placed, were her honey blonde curls. Her cheeks, nice and rosy, pulled everything together. As soon as the village clock struck seven, Clara was on her way to the ball.
As she arrived at the balls location, the doors were opened for her. She was the Princess, after all. Every head turned as she walked gracefully into the hall. Princess Clara’s honey blonde curls bounced with glee as she walked. Of course, the minute she entered, all of the boys in the hall flocked towards her, save one. He moved only slightly in her direction. His name was Charles. Charles, being the beautiful centaur that he is, had night black lower half, flowing dark hair and piercing blue eyes. Princess Clara always wondered why Charles never seemed interested in her, but tonight he seemed like he wanted to meet her. The crowd parted as she sauntered in Charles’s direction. She arrived at his hooves and he looked down into her melancholy blue eyes.
Charles simply asked, “Would you like some punch?”
“Sure,” replied Clara, “I’d love some punch.” Charles walked to the punch table. He came back to Clara with two punch cups in his hands. Clara took a sip of her punch and felt a slight tingle. Little did she know, that tingle would come back to haunt her.
The night went on and Clara and Charles began to grow closer and closer. They danced until the village clock struck nine and then they left the dance and walked around the village.
“Tonight was very nice,” Charles says.
Blushing, Clara replies, “Yes it was.” Clara kept her eyes on Charles for the next ten minutes without saying a word.
“What is the matter?” he asked.
“Well, nothing. I just think that maybe I am falling in love with you.”
“But we have just met two hours ago. How can that be love?” Charles asks, knowing that Princess Clara has taken the love potion that he had slipped into her drink.
“I am not sure. You are just so handsome. I cannot take my eyes off of you,” replies Clara with a sparkle in her eyes.
Charles grabbed her arm and whispers, “Come with me.”
“Where are we going, my love?”
“Just come with me,” Charles happily replies. The love potion seemed to have set in completely. Charles had no good intentions with the Princess that night. He knew her father would destroy her for disobeying his rules and he planned for her to break many of the King’s rules. Clara laughed with giddiness as Charles led her into the Magic Art Shoppe. Clara had always wanted magic art on her arm, but her father’s rules did not allow that.
“Pick out any art you like and it is yours,” Charles said menacingly.
“Oh, Charles, you are wonderful,” Clara declared as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She examined every art piece for about thirty minutes. Finally, she decided on a simple fluttering butterfly and for “Charles” to be written underneath. The witch who owned the Shoppe took Princess Clara into the back room while Charles stayed in the front room.
“That is a nice looking centaur boy you have there for yourself,” the witch began.
“He is darling. And all mine. Ever since that cup of punch I have been falling deeper in love with Charles.”
The witch looked at the Princess suspiciously. Then, she begins the process.
“Abarbum butterflius.” And the butterfly appeared on Princess Clara’s arm. Next, “Abarbum Charlesus.” And “Charles” appeared on Clara’s arm. Suddenly, the butterfly’s wings began to flutter and the letters in “Charles” danced. After the cloth was wrapped around her arm, she went back to the front room. Expecting to see Charles waiting, the Princess was disappointed. Charles had disappeared. Her love had left her alone at the Magic Art Shoppe. Silently weeping into her hands, Princess Clara ran from the Shoppe.
Across the stream Clara ran back to the castle. Flying through the castle door, she stopped short and slammed it shut. Here, in the castle entryway, Clara broke down into sobs.
Princess Clara thought about that night often as she grew into a young lady at twenty two. But she had moved on and gotten the magic art removed from her arm. Charles had left the village that night and was never seen since.
One day, at the Village Book Shoppe, Princess Clara caught a glimpse of a familiar face with piercing blue eyes and dark hair.
“Charles?” she asked the stranger.
“Yes?Oh, Princess Clara.” Charles shyly responded.
Princess Clara stared at the centaur who had broken her heart just a few years before. “Why?” she simply asked.
Charles had no response to her question. They stood in silence for a few seconds more, when Princess Clara simply walked out of the Village Book Shoppe. There was no glorious reunion between the two, just a few words. Princess Clara went on to marry a lovely man from a couple towns over. She learned never to find true love on a night when there are unknown factors. While Clara was happily married, Charles stayed alone and wondered what could have been. He wondered what would have happened if he had just stayed. For, the love potion went two ways that fateful night and has never released its hold on Charles’s heart.

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