All Nonfiction Bullying Books Academic Author Interviews Celebrity interviews College Articles College Essays Educator of the Year Heroes Interviews Memoir Personal Experience Sports Travel & CultureAll Opinions Bullying Current Events / Politics Discrimination Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking Entertainment / Celebrities Environment Love / Relationships Movies / Music / TV Pop Culture / Trends School / College Social Issues / Civics Spirituality / Religion Sports / Hobbies
- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
The opposite of impossible
She glances down at the lifeless body for a moment before wiping her crimson-stained hands on her silky white dress. With a light sigh and a bead of sweat making its way down her forehead, she glides over to the balcony. The scenery’s so beautiful, the sky pink and innocent, the way the trees sway in the breeze, and the crisp ocean air kissing her face with sweet intentions. Her vision blurs with memories of the past. She could remember a simpler time, before everything became so complicated and puzzling. When you could get to know someone and not find them dead the next morning. When you could even walk down the street and not have daggers thrown at you. When you weren’t The Rogue’s first priority.
A high pitched scream brought me back to reality. I have made a mistake. No one should have know I’m here, and no one’s here in the room with me to see one of The Rogue’s first men dead on the floor. As I scan the room for any signs of mistakes, I realize the blood from The Rogue has made its way down towards the balcony and is dripping off the edge. The screams have not stopped, and as I glance over the edge, I see who they are coming from. The Princess’ sleek pink dress has been stained with red dots.
S***. I think to myself.
I wasn’t careful and now that I have been so clumsy I could possibly be killed. Just as I am done thinking, I hear the sounds of the door being kicked off the hinges before I see it. The sound of the door skidding across the floor. A tall man with a large build, dark black hair, tan skin, deep blue eyes, which most girls would kill for, is in the doorway where the door used to be.
Before I can even let my mind wander, I throw myself over the railing of the balcony and fall. I land on my feet, crouching, next to the princess. Her screaming had gone down a few notches but now that I have appeared out of nowhere above her, her screams have picked up and are now five notches higher then they had been before. As soon as I hit the ground, though, I’m at a dead run towards the woods.
I don’t look back.
I don’t slow down.
I don’t think.
I just run.
I don’t remember how I got back to my little cavern. All I remember is running through the woods at such high speed that everything blurred, and then I was home. Or at least what I call home. Later, when I am lying in bed resting my sore muscles, I can remember somebody yelling. I think they were yelling my name, but I was too busy running to understand.
So, I fall asleep and dream of darkness.
Kitchen duty sucks.
I am downstairs at this time cleaning the kitchen counters, sweeping the floor, tidying up and cleaning all of the princess’s unfinished, dirty dishes.
So much of this food is going to waste because of that bimbo.
I shake my head and keep my thoughts to myself.
I finish the kitchen and am about to head to the basement when I smell it. It is a sweet, fruity, earthy smell. It is the smell of a ripe strawberry, of a fresh pie that was baked in the forest, the smell of freshly cut pine. I stop in my tracks and just stare at nothing unparticular. I know that smell. I have that smell imprinted in my brain. I spent eighteen years of my life with that smell. I love that smell with a burning passion.
Before I know what I am doing I’m running upstairs in an instant. I don’t stop running when Michael asked me what the rush is, I don’t stop when there is a cat in the way, I merely jump over it and start running again. But I stop when I was just outside High Master Cameron’s bedroom.
Why would she be here in the kingdom? What was she doing here? And what was she doing In the High Master’s bedroom of all places? Maybe she wasn’t here? Maybe Cameron just had some new cologne that smelt like her. Maybe my nose was just deceiving me and was just missing her?
My thoughts are interrupted. Something heavy hits the floor in the High Masters’ bedroom. I think for a second that it could have been High Master falling out of bed again like the many times he has before, but this time, there is no swearing and throwing of things that come after. All of my senses at this time have heightened. Something is wrong, something isn’t right.
I hear bare feet moving, and then stop. Someone is in the room, but they’re too light to be Cameron’s. I place my ear to the door to listen. They don’t move for a little bit. I reach my hand out to open the door, when the screaming begins.
It is the princess. She is screaming bloody murder. That high pitched, annoying sound she makes whenever she’s mad, sad, happy, angry, or scared. I don’t even think to turn and run back down the stairs to see what is wrong or what is happening. All I do is merely think, and then I hear the feet in the room move a little.
Whoever they are, they are about to leave.
My mind races and all I can think of in that instant is her. How I want her in my arms, how I want to touch her soft hair, to feel her smooth skin, to kiss her full lips. Before I know what I am doing I’m kicking down the door. It lands next to the High Masters’ motionless body.
Before I can react to his death or mourn over my High Masters death, I stare at her. She is standing on the balcony by the railing, staring at me, wide eyed. I stare into those deep, exotic, green eyes; I marvel at her golden brown skin, her sun bleached hair, those luscious pink lips.
Then she throws herself over the railing of the balcony.
I run over to the balcony, avoiding Cameron’s body on the way by. By the time I reach the balcony where she had been standing seconds before and I looked out over the courtyard, I can just see the blur of her beautiful silky white and red dress. Later on, I realize that the dress had only been white.
And then the white and red blur disappear into the forest.