A Writer's Collection

The Princess

Once Upon A Time, there lived a peasant. She was a little girl, born to a simple family with a simple lifestyle. She was a pure soul and loved sharing a laugh.

Sometimes she'd find something to laugh at, though not at people. But at things generally funny. Even the little mistakes that her little self made.

As she grew a few years older, she did not only grow mentally, but physically as well. She'd still share a laugh or a smile. However, time has changed her.

The peasant girl became the center of attention. Although, it wasn't pretty.

Now, the peasant girl has grown into a lady. The experiences she had, molded her into someone new. She still had her charisma but like all people, she grew mature.

One day, she was trekking by the woods, heeding her father's advice and her mother's blessing. She found a meadow with a bed of different flowers that stretched far and wide. For hours, she marveled on each of them, talking to them, taking care of them and complimenting each one.

Isn't that weird? For a girl like her to be talking to a bunch of flowers? She is called as such and prefer it stays that way. For she once said to herself, "To be my weird is to be me."

She grew accustomed to having the flowers by her side. Coming back almost everyday to visit them, she did what she could to nurture them. Though, she would be saddened if one of the flowers wilted or had lost their color.

It may look like a routine, but for her it wasn't. That would be absurd, she'd thought. Because everyday is different for every flower.

She became one with them, talking to them about almost anything. They would replied to her in their own way as the flowers too grew accustomed to this girl.

On the day she went to the nearby town market to buy a water sprinkler, she found out that she was short on money and went her way around the square. She then found a can by the alley and tried to retrieve it, only to find someone pulling it the other end.

It was a guy. But he wasn't alone.

"Could you please release your hold?" he suggested, looking at her in the eyes. He, a girl and two other boys were eyeing her with the same look, none of which were hostile.

"I need this," she said in reply, clutching the can tighter. She concluded they were from the town, for their clothes were of the place.

"We need it too," he said. "And I actually got it first."

"We got it at the same time. But I really need it," she insisted after looking at the sky, noticing that it was almost nighttime.

"For what purpose? You can get other cans from somewhere else."

"This is the first can I saw that could fit my demands. The time is ticking and you can tell from my clothes that I'm not from here. So I ask you while the day is still on the peak of its youth, can I have this can?"

Two other of his friends chuckled, seemingly to make him embarrassed. He finally let go and told her it was her can now. She bowed and bid them goodbye with a big smile.

Little did she know that on her way to the meadow, the group stealthily followed her. She took a sharp rock and punctured the end of the can. With blisters and wounds, she finally finished making her sprinkler.

Hissing and groaning at the pain, she stood up and walked to the bank a few meters away. Before she could wash away her wounds, she heard a rustle by her side and some distinct sounds. Snapping a nearby branch and hiding behind a bush, she waited until the sound was near before jumping out of her hiding and tackling whatever it was by the ground.