I wrapped my damp, soft fingers around the diamond-incrusted end of my hairbrush. I gently let the brush sink in and untangle my thick, curly golden hair guided by my long, boney hand. I stopped my motion, starting to admire the beauty of the simple hairbrush. It's shimmering diamonds gleamed in the calm sunlight shining through my open window, and it's gilded back seemed to beam down at me.
"Putri," a wise, calm voice chirped in the hallway. I could instantly identify the owner of the familiar song that was calling my name. I dropped my hairbrush, and raised the ends of my hay-colored hair, chewing on the ends of my golden locks. I quietly tapped my foot on the hard-wood floor, my emotions stirring. I felt like I was dropping into an endless black void, and I had no idea why so.
The creaking of the old, wooden door caught my attention, and my dull, emerald-green eyes instantly focused on the calm figure in front of me.
"Good evening, Mother." I turned around in my chair once more, the legs squealing in agony under my weight. I began to rub my slick, clean hair, my distressed emotions stirring up inside of my head. Normally, Mother never disturbed me in my spare time unless it was important.
I turned back around and stared at the piece of reflective glass in front of my tense face, my emotionless eyes staring into the depths of my soul. Behind me, Mother heaved in a shaky breath, her once calm, wise eyes turning into a pinkish-red hue. Her inhales become more tight, and her lip quivered in a childlike manner.
"Mother, what so ever is the matter?" I asked, my now concerned eyes flickering over in her direction.
"Your father... has decided to send you away for a while." Mother's knees buckled in a weak manner, and she fell to the floor dramatically, her back rapidly rising and falling. I had never seen her react like this before.
I rushed out of my chair, and placed my warm hand on her quivering back. Mother raised up her head, revealing her clouded, red eyes. She wrapped her arms around my scrawny torso, and I could instantly feel her emotions rushing into me.
"Sending me away where?" I finally managed ask.
"I disapproved of it, I told him you were not ready to take on the duty..." Mother rambled. She twisted her plump, smooth fingers in knots. Her frost-blue gaze met my piercing green eyes, and she bit her lip in an embarrassed manner. "I'm so sorry," she murmured, "I get very emotional over... over send-offs."
"Mother," I sighed sternly, gritting my teeth, "where am I going?"
"King Allard has decided it was high-time for you to wed a prince, Prince Hugh of Bellington to be exact." She fixed her gaze on the glossy wooden floor, her hands calmly placed at the sides of her rose petal-red velvet skirt.
My eyes flickered down to the floor as well.
Marry? To Prince Hugh? I thought to myself. I inhaled a sharp, quiet gasp, letting my emotion clearly show. "Mother," I pleaded, "I do not want to wed...Prince Hugh."
"I know, sweet-child, I know." Mother placed her welcoming hands on my back. Her soft strokes against my back let my shoulders relax, and I slowly closed my eyes, letting the feeling sink into me. I can't marry a prince, I am not ready for such a duty at only sixteen.
Also, I do not want to have children. They are devilish creatures.
"I-I just need to be alone with my thoughts for a little while Mother," I finally sighed. My Mother's hands relaxed, and our eyes locked.
"If you need anything," she advised, "please, talk to me."
I pitifully nodded. Mother gave me a last sorrowful look, before closing the beautifully carved oak door behind her, the soft click of the door sending a chill up my spine.
"Marry a prince?" I asked myself once more, "I simply will not do it."
I crossed my arms in vexed way, the thought of Prince Hugh of Bellington flashing into my mind. The slender twenty year-old male with sharp green eyes and ginger-blonde hair made me shutter with repulsion.
((I found this in my rough drafts. I wrote it forever ago. I don't really know what to do with it. Decided to publish it and see your thoughts ;) ))
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125,008 Literary Works • 672,832 Reviews
This fits in very well with the "princess doesn't want to marry the prince shes betrothed to" stereotype. But here's the thing, i sense there's more to it. I must admit, i clicked on this short thinking that it was going to be cheesy and predictable. I find myself thinking the complete opposite. i love your way of writing and describing. i would kill to be able to make words flow like you do. i am thoroughly involved in this story and i hope you write more!
Thanks for sharing this story concerning a reluctant maiden who is faced with the threat of a forced marriage to a prince. I was impressed with the introduction since it conveyed an image which I could easily see and immediately began familiarizing me with the protagonist who is speaking. The diamond-encrusted brush , indicated that the speaker is wealthy. I like the setting and the basic issues involved in reference to freedom of choice, are conducive to creating drama.
But then the anomalies began:
Her fingers are described as soft and later as boney. The reader is forced modify the previous impression of soft hands into soft boney hands. It will also seem to indicate that the speaker is emaciated, old, or ill. Her hair that was described as thick curly and golden was soon described as hay-colored. The reader might wonder why the speaker is so focused on her hair. It unnecessarily slowed down the flow.
The speaker mentions turning around once more when no previous turning had been described. The reader will assume he missed something. But there is no previous turning around. Then a squealing of chair because of her ponderous weight is mentioned. Now the reader has a green-eyed, blond, obese female with soft boney hands threatening to destroy the chair she’s sitting on due to maybe morbid obesity.
Then her thick curly hair suddenly becomes slick and and clean as opposed to curly and thick. She then begins rubbing her hair in some non-described manner. With the palm of both her hands? With the the tip her fingers? Then she swivels on her chair again and this time it has no trouble with her ponderous weight, and stares into a mysterious reflective glass behind. Eventually I came to realize that she is just looking in the mirror. The swiveling around on the chair was tempting me to consider it an office chair that swivels and creaks.
The obese, green eyed, soft boney handed female then begins to chew on her own hair. That might be understood as hinting mental instability perhaps at an insane asylum. That impression might be reinforced by her feeling as if she’s falling into a black void. She then describes huge emotions whirling around in her head and tsays that she stares with emotionless eyes back at herself.
Then her mother appears behind her with red eyes. This might be understood as hinting that her mom is some kind of a vampire. Then the speaker describes her own back as scrawny. That clashes with previous indications of obesity and causes reader confusion. She then classifies all children as devilish creatures but doesn’t explain why leaving the reader wondering why and why it is mentioned. Then her utter terror in marrying prince Hugh is said to be because he is young, green eyed, slender, and has ginger-colored hair. That makes her shudder with revulsion. That causes the reader to ask what’s so terrifying about Hugh.
Suggestions:
The story is better written in the third person “she”. That way the descriptions are more believable. It is hard to imagine someone calling her own eyes dull or making other negative statements about her own physical appearance or admitting that she is a hair-chewer.
“....hay-colored hair,....” redundant since the color had just been mentioned.
“....my emotions stirring.” [anger? envy? love? fear? disgust? attraction? lust?]
“....inside of my head.” Unnecessary since readers already know where emotions stir.
“....depths of my soul....” is a cliche’
“....turning into a....” [turning a]
“....raised up her head....” [Redundancy. If it is raised then the direction is up.]
“Her frost-blue gaze....” [Her eyes had been described as pinkish red so the blue gaze clashes.]
....she bit her lip....” [Which one? The upper or the lower?
I would change the name Putri because it is too similar to Putrid. That is unless it is intentional and dovetails with the story in some way.
Hi! Thank you for the awesome feedback, I'll try to use it more in the future. I don't really know where the name "Putri" came from though, haha. I wrote this several months ago so I have no idea what was going through my mind then