Kay, this is only a part of what I had written for this little segment, but word only salvaged the first part of it, and I decided, “Screw it, I’ll just make it look like it ends here”
So thus you have this short little (badly written) piece.
In a perfect world, a perfect fairytale the queen will show just the right amound of elegant worry, the king will send for brave warriors that will rescue the captured princess, and the princess will wait for the warrior that will always come and rescue her.
But this world isn’t perfect.
The queen is dispairing, falling deep into depression and her fingers ripping out her long hair in chunks, her nails caked with blood from self mutilation. The king does not send word for a hero, but instead rides into war with the kingdom that had captured the princess. The princess was never supposed to be a witch that is able to slaughter leagions of soldiers on her own.
This doesn’t happen.
But it did.
This is what you get for wishing yourself in a fairytale.
Ruining little girls’ childhoods, one word at a time.