Nov 24

In Another Country

In the fall our studies were always there but we were in Italy now.  It was cold in the fall in the convent and the stores were closed in the afternoon.  Then they re-opened for the evening, and it was pleasant along the streets looking in the windows.  There were many locals walking among the cobblestones and children scampered and hid and played, and small birds blew in the wind and the wind turned their feathers.  It was cold in the fall and the wind chilled our city on top of the mountain.

We were all in the Cafe every afternoon, and there were different ways of walking across town through the maze of streets to the Cafe.  Two of the ways were alongside the edge of a cliff, but they were long.  Always, though, you passed a church to enter the Cafe.  There was a choice of three churches.  One of them was surrounded by tourists gaping at its beauty.  It was warm, walking through the crowd, and familiar languages could be heard above the murmur of voices.  The Cafe was very new and very welcoming, and you could order your coffee and stand at the bar.  There were usually men there enjoying aperitifs.  Beyond the bar were the stairs that led to the room we always sat in, and we met every afternoon and were all very happy and interested in what was going on at home, and sipped our cappuccinos that were missed greatly after we'd gone.

The barista came over to our table and said "Prego," the word for "You're welcome," but means, "How can I help you?"  There were three of us that day so I said: "Tre Cappuccini."  The easiest thing to order.  I hated coffee and refused to drink it at home, much to my mother's joy and my father's despair.  But Italian coffee was different, and instead of brown sludge it tasted sweet and delicious.  It was the most comforting thing we'd found in this strange land.

At the next table was a woman wearing a large hat and stiletto boots.  She looked at me when I ordered as surprised as she would have been if a monkey had spoken.  It wasn't customary to talk to strangers because everyone knew each other in this small city so we stared at each other for a moment and both went back to our groups.

Nov 23

I had known for a little while that something was strange.  My mom kept going to the hospital, but she wasn't sick and she was getting really fat.  Maybe the doctors were trying to pop the balloon in her stomach.  My parents kept saying these two words over and over again and I still had no idea what they meant.  The words were "baby" and "sister."  Apparently the thing in my mom's belly was called a baby and it was going to turn me into a sister.  One day I got to go to the hospital too.  My mom was lying in bed and she looked really tired.  My dad sat me down in a chair next to the bed and walked over to this strange rectangular box that was standing on sticks and it had wheels.  He took something out of the box and put it in my lap.  It was heavy, but strangely squishy, and it wriggled around a lot.  It kind of looked like a cross between a very tiny person and a funny colored alien.  I immediately decided it was an alien and the box was its spaceship.  I didn't like aliens.  "Put it back!" I said definitively.  I wasn't sure what exactly that thing was doing here, but my parents sure seemed to like 'him' a whole lot.  They laughed and said that he was my brother and he was coming home with us.  I didn't want that to happen, but when we left the hospital I got to ride in a wheel chair with my mom and I forgot all about it.

Nov 22

Tonight we made macaroni and cheese with coconut milk.  It was delicious.

November 21

"Well this should be fun" Talia smirked sitting in the kitchen waiting for Abbey to enter.

Pop grabbed hold of Abbey's arm as soon as she came within reach, he would not let her go without a fight. This is what is reassuring grip to her. Abbey made a small nervous smile towards her mothers as they walked down the crowded hallway into the dinning room.

"Abbey do you want something to drink?"

Her mother asked her already getting a clean glass from the cabinet soon to be filled and drained of Izzy's famous Sangria. Abbey mumbled a thank you and began to seat herself before she realized that Todd was missing. She searched the sea of brunettes and found no site of him. Jumping up from the table Abbey called out, "Todd". He was lurking in the entrance hallway unsure what to do with himself covered in dirt and light European features. Abbey grabbed her son's hand, Pop continued to hold onto her arm and so the three of them were joined awkwardly stretched from the dining room table to the foyer. She pulled Todd harder and he reluctantly entered the room flashing a 'Richard' smile.

"What were you doing out here?" Izzy asked as her mother placed the cup of Sangria in front of her. Abbey swallowed in large gulps oblivious to the taste or magnitude of wine her sister had managed to include within the punch.

"I was picking Todd up form soccer and I was just around the corner...thought I would maybe say hello". Her voiced trailed off, she realized how foolish she had been in choosing to just 'drop by'. Richard was going to just love hearing about this.

"You thought you would just pop by? For a quick visit, catch up on six years of life before picking Todd back up?" Izzy crossed her arms and took a seat across the table. And so the interrogation begins, Abbey thought to herself.

"Isabell, don't pick a fight", her mother warned. Moments like this had only existsed in her dreams, she could not let her daughter ruin this.

"Ma, I'm just asking" Izzy retorted razing one eyebrow enough for Abbey to know that she would not rest until she had gotten all the answers.

"Iz... I don't know what you want me to say... I shouldn't have come," Pop hit her arm lightly, he frowned. "I know, I know I've made a mess of everything. You know I never meant for this... this sort of separation to happen".

Everyone sat in silence, Izzy expected more, she was waiting for a full detailed apology but Abbey did not have one to give. She was hardly sure if she had even made the right choice speaking at all. Todd's cellphone began to vibrate lightly from inside his shorts. He looked up at his mom eager to take the phone call and leave the room full of drama. It was worse than anything he had ever witnessed. This sort of silent fighting... the kind that caddy middle school girls were all about; the kind he avoided like the plague.

"I swear to god Ashely, that had better not be your phone going off again!" Talia scolded looking at her daughter who was totally mesmerized by the change of events. 'No' Ashely thought to herself, ' but oh my god do I have people to text as soon as I figure out how to get away from this bunch'

"No aunt Talia, it's mine" Todd spoke out. His voice was lower than anyone remembered. Ma tear up finally registering her grandson was in the room.

"You have a cellphone?" Gail questioned in her usual goofy way. She reached for it from where she was still planted at the table. Todd laughed nervously unsure if he could trust this woman, trust anyone in the room. The phone stopped buzzing, it would go to voice mail.

There was really, too many questions to ask of each other. About who they had become, why they hadn't fought harder to save their family. Abbey's head began to swirl as she tried to get her story straight. There was no good place to begin and this was surely not the ending she had hoped for. She laid a hand on top of Pops. They spoke briefly without words and she knew all was forgiven with him. It was more than she might have hoped for but it was still too much. Abbey pulled his hand from off her arm,
"Come on Todd we need to go".

He shot up from his seat eager to say his goodbyes. As Abbey turned her back on her family sister Gail spoke out, "Abbey, you'll never guess who I ran into on the train the other day".

Nov 20

Abby stopped half way up the walk and suddenly turned around. She quickly sprinted back to the car pulling a confused Todd behind her. They got in and she locked the doors. They sat in silence for a minute or two breathing heavily.

“Mom, what's going on? Where are we? And why are you acting so strange?”

Abby paused for a moment, trying to think of what to tell her son.

“Todd. Remember how we used to visit your grandparents? And aunts and uncles and cousins on my side of the family? You know... the ones who spoke Spanish sometimes?”

“Yeah. We haven't seen them in like forever.”

“Well, this is your aunt Talia's house.”

“Ok. What are we doing here?”

“I just thought we could maybe go visit them. Don't you think it would be nice to see them? But now I'm thinking maybe it's not such a good idea and we should just go home. Your father would be very angry if he knew we were here.”

“Why?”

“He never really got along with them. And we haven't talked to them in so long...” Abby trailed off and stared at the house. She could see Pop staring back at her. She knew that, even though his mind was going and probably no one would believe him, it was too late to turn back. He had seen her. He could probably see Todd too.

Pop pointed out the window, “Abby estas aqui,” he repeated. This time she was still sitting in the driveway when the rest of the family looked out the window. They all gaped and were for once speechless. The cougar slowly backed toward the door, beer still in hand. She was hoping to get out before the dramatic family scene commenced. Luckily, no one saw her and she was able to escape back to the sanctuary of her own home.

It was now a staring contest. Abby and Todd stared from the car. They could see all of the various family members peering out different windows. They may have remained in this state forever had it not been for Izzy's dragonness. She ran to the front door, threw it open and shouted across the yard.

“Abby, Todd, get in here for heaven's sake!”

Abby glanced at Todd and hesitantly got out of the car and walked again to the front door. This time making it all the way inside the house.

Nov 19

“Hey Mom” Todd kissed her on the cheek as his got into the car. Abby finally let him sit in the front. He was covered in dirt, not because the coach made them practice in the rain or because he was tackling everyone in his path but because Todd knew how much it would enrage his mother. She deserves it, he thought to himself having been convinced that she was having an affair. This explained her constant lateness and scattered state of being. He knew his mom thought he was still only eight but even an eight year old could sense that something was off in the family.

Todd was a spitting image of his father with blonde hair and green eyes, the sort of look Abby had wished to be born with. She had thought of sending her family a picture of him, it had been four years since they had spoken.

“Hey hon, how was practice?”

“Fine.” Abby gave her son a once over. He was covered in dirt. She tried to reprioritize her evening to include taking the stains out of her son’s clothing. So for as far as she had traveled and all the fame it may have gotten her she had essentially managed to turn completely into her mother worrying about stains setting in and fighting with her husband about trips to the grocery store. This restlessness, it was exhausting but she was trapped in between worlds and wasn’t sure which deserved to continue.

Abby turned the heat on higher in the car feeling a chill. She was always cold, always afraid of getting sick and constantly oblivious of her surroundings. Todd tried to ignore the blasting heat but he was already sweating.

“Mom, really?”

“What?”

“It’s a billion degrees in here”

“Sorry hon”, she turned the heat down slightly and sighed. “I’m making eggplant parms tonight”

“Cool”.

“I thought you liked those”, Abby felt about the same. She wondered if maybe she shouldn’t insist Richard meet them at a restaurant, anything would be better than heading back to the house. She missed the turn that would bring them back to the high way and just kept driving.

“Where are we going?”

“Slight detour”, Before she could even think through this crazy plan she found herself pulling into Talia’s driveway and parking. Todd looked confused but followed his mother as she walk determined to the front door.

Nov 18

“I'm on my way to pick up Todd from soccer,” Abby said curtly.

“You didn't stay to watch the practice?”

“No, I had some errands to run. You know, groceries and such.” Abby made a mental note to stop at the store on the way to the soccer field so as not to return home empty-handed.

“Oh, good. We have no food. Did you buy eggplant?”

“Of course,” said Abby. “I know how much you love them.”

“You like them too.”

“Yes, but liking eggplant is kind of girly, don't you think?”

“No! It's the most manly vegetable. Any real man would love eggplant. Unless they didn't know how to cook. Or lived in a country that didn't have eggplant. You know, like China or Communist Russia.”

Abby never knew what to say in response to Richard's crazy rants about food so she just sighed and made up a lame excuse about needing to get off the phone because she saw a cop up ahead. It wasn't true and she was still walking anyway. She laughed to herself as she thought about how silly it would be to get 'pulled over' for walking while talking on a cell phone.

She continued walking the familiar route, about a mile down the road, back to the soccer field where her car and her 12-year-old son were waiting. She smiled, waved to Todd, and mouthed “I'll be right back.” Then she jumped in the car and sped off in the direction of the grocery store. Unfortunately the first three stores she stopped at were completely out of eggplant and, as it was the one food item she told Richard she had already bought, she needed to continue searching. Consequently she was about 20 minutes late picking Todd up from practice. She would have to tell Richard that the practice had run late and hope that Todd was not yet old enough to notice and correct her lie.

November 17

Her father had noticed her there crouching underneath the tree looking in. He was always aware of when she stopped by but as his wife called his speech and memory into question daily, no one ever believed what he saw. Pop sat frustrated confined to his wheel chair after years of never sitting still. And so, it should not have come as a surprise to the family when his daughter, Abigail had left for a more glamorous life. Still, she should not have condemned them all and their embarrassing Latin American ways.

“Be proud you stupid girl” He had teased her growing up as she fiddled with her long curly hair. That had changed, that and so many other parts of her body. He knew he was dying, the looks in his families eyes made that more clear than the hours of testing done weekly at the hospital and more than anything, of course, he yearned for his family to come together in joy and reclaim their little starlet.

“Abby estas aqui”, he murmured as he was rolled into the living room. His wife looked up for a brief moment giving away her own longing to see her estranged daughter, but suppressed the idea. He had mumbled, she may have heard him wrong.

“What Pop?” She asked locking the wheels in place. The children were busy watching Sponge Bob and were annoyed by the interruption.

“Yo veo Abby… she is outside” His trembling hand moved from his lap and he tried to focus it to the window. ‘Of course now she was gone,’ he would like to continue saying but his wife had already dismissed him. She nodded and headed back into the kitchen hearing bursts of laughter coming from the table. Jeff was telling about the time they let their husky attack a yippy dog that had lived up the street.

Outside Abby’s cell phone began to ring. It was Richard, of course it was Richard. He had a keen sense of when she was doing something he would disapprove of. She thought about ignoring the call being in no real mood to answer his nagging questions; he would just keep calling.

“Hey Rick” She was passive aggressive but the nickname did the trick every time so there was no chance of her missing an opportunity to use it.

“Hello my dear. Where are you?” there was a loud base booming in the background. Richard was probably at a rehearsal.

“Just being a creeper”.

Nov 16

Looking longingly into the window of this colorful family scene Abigail ached to get back into their good graces. The beer-loving cougar had replaced her. It wasn't that she too was unmarried—it was her husband who was actually the cause of her untimely removal from the group. There was a time in the not too distant past when she had been embarrassed by them all. She had always dreamed of the chance to be rid of them, just not quite in the manner that it had happened. Now that she was on the outside she missed her old life. She was missing it all. Missing her nieces and nephews growing into adults. Missing her sister's crazy banter. Missing her father's last few days—

Pop's absentminded gaze out the window suddenly caught her attention and she stumbled back into the yard. Several stale fall leaves crunched under her stylish boots as she quickly crouched down. The fear of being observed while observing them never let her stay long. She now only had a few glimpses into her former life. The life that should still be her own today if it hadn't been for him.

Abigail didn't want to think of the many painful things he had convinced her to do. She was often shocked at how susceptible she had been to his charms. She spent many of her waking hours in therapy, trying to come to terms with the person she had become, and often still found it best to attempt to forget. She knew coming here was not the right course of action, at least not as long as she stayed hidden in the bushes. If only she could muster the courage to knock on the front door and be welcomed back into their lives... Her thoughts trailed off as she skulked slowly down the street into the blinding, setting sun.

November 15

"Izzy, you'll never guess who I saw on the train... sitting right in front of me".

"Who?"

"Christopher Stevens".

"Really? I thought he died".

"But I decided not to talk to him."

"Didn't he live in Florida? Awe why not?"

"I wasn't in the mood. I would have to go up to him and say 'excuse me, aren't you Chris Stevens', and he would respond 'and you are?' and I wasn't in the mood".

"Wow, I thought he was dead", Izzy sat in her seat for a moment reflecting on her sister's siting. She looked over at her father. "Pop! You want some bread? Quieres pan?"

From the other room: "Hey Gail, guess who I ran into".

"Who?"

"You ever shop at Shop Rite?"

"Yeah sometimes, for deli sandwiches".

"Frank Azzilo"

"Really?"

"He's a big guy"

"Yeah, I thought he was in Florida".

"No, he's working at Shop Rite".

"I was telling Izzy that I saw Chris Stevens on the train to work the other day..."

"Oh god, remember his brother... man he had a fat ass".

"Ashley, your mother's mouth spews poison."

"What?"

"Poison! Izzy, ask Talia about Tommy Stevens".

"Why? Have you seen him?"

"Oh my god!" Talia interjected, "He's fat and nasty".

"But I thought he had that stomach thing", Izzy sipped on her coffee watching her father carefully chew and re- chew his bread.

"Well he gained it all back... and he's disgusting!" Talia snapped.

"Pop, you want to go into the other room?"A younger cousin appeared next to the table with Grandma close at hand. They were determined to move Pop from where he was wedged in between daughters, into the living room where the younger cousins would have the opportunity to sit and stare at their aging grandfather.

There were a couple new players to the family gathering as could be expected now that the older cousins were in their mid-twenties. Talia had brought with her a new boyfriend, Gail liked to joke that he was into yoga. And there was a neighbor whose bottle of beer was never empty. She clutched it tightly, the beer wore a Yankee cozy. Pop did not get along with light skinned folk these days and so she stayed mostly in the kitchen with a low fitted leopard print shirt. The cougar watched and tried to listen in to the other conversations but the women spoke too quickly and sometimes quit English altogether which made it impossible to know for certain who they were speaking of.

Pop was slowly wheeled into the other room. All other conversation stopped. Mostly, the daughters just reminisced when they were together which drove their husbands crazy. They had all heard the stories repeatedly through the years. Finally, the chatter started up again.

"Jeff!" Gail shouted from the table, she would not move from this spot until her husband told her it was time to go home.

"What?!" He shouted back having just learned his brother had tickets to the game the next evening.

"Remember when you used to make me peanut butter jelly sandwiches?" Jeff and Gail laughed heartily at that.

Nov 15

Just a little intro to what we're doing this week... We are writing a story together - each posting a 300-500 word installment each day.  We did this with no planning or set plot so it should be incredibly interesting to see where the story goes... There will be minimal to no consulting as to the entry each day.  In order to read the final product you'll have to start with the posts on Nov 16 and work your way up the blog.  I realize this may make it difficult to read, but I think it will be worth it!

Nov 14

Part 3

Two months later Prince Harold and Princess Annabelle married and were welcomed back into Harold's kingdom with open arms. The King and Queen were delighted at the return of their beloved son and pleased with the transforming results of Juniper's curse. They were enchanted by the beauty of their new daughter-in-law and granted her a full share in everything that would one day belong to Harold.

Annabelle's long, golden locks fell in ringlets around her face and a feeling of comfort and happiness shone forth from her bright blue eyes. She carried her shimmering golden ball around with her everywhere and loved all things that were beautiful. Harold loved Annabelle and vowed to do whatever it took to make her happy. Unfortunately, as he soon discovered, it took quite a bit of work to make Annabelle happy.

From her palace Annabelle brought gowns, jewels and trinkets of every kind, claiming she could not live without every single one of them. She also brought along a multitude of servants to perform the tasks she refused to do for herself. There was one who brushed her hair, one who dressed her, one who bathed her, one who prepared her food, one who tasted her food, one who cleaned her gowns, one who polished her jewels, one who counted her coins, and one who captured the most beautiful fairies for her collection. In fact, she had so many servants that Harold had met only a fraction of them. He was completely unaware of the extent to which his bride was spoiled. Annabelle did very little for herself, but she did nothing for others and expected the world in return.

One month after the royal wedding, Columbine flew cautiously through the castle in search of Prince Harold. She flew cautiously, not because of her injured wing which had long since healed, but so as not to be spotted by Annabelle's fairy-capturing servant.

The prince was delighted to see her and profusely apologized for the harm he had caused her and Cindy.

“That's quite alright dear,” Columbine chirped quickly. “I need to discuss with you a matter of the utmost importance.”

“Of course. What's the matter? I'll do whatever you ask. It's the least I can do.”

“Well, it's about your lovely wife.”

“What about my wife? She is beautiful, isn't she?”

“Yes, quite beautiful. But, um, it's about her servants. Many of them are mistreated and overworked. And that fairy catching one...”

“Annabelle has a fairy catching servant? How many servants does she have?”

“The most I've counted is 247, but I seem to discover new ones each day. Yesterday I met the one assigned to paint the fingernails on her left hand.”

“Thank you for your information,” the prince said worriedly. “I'll take care of this right away.”

Harold soon found Annabelle outside in the flower garden. She was sitting on a stool that one servant had carried outside while another was picking flowers for her. The golden ball was in her lap.

Harold approached her and said, “Do you remember, my love, the day I found you at your palace?”

Annabelle scrunched up her nose in disgust without looking at him.

“Of course I do, you were so disgusting. I shudder even today thinking about that first night you spent in my home. I am nearly sick at the thought of that despicable creature eating from my golden plate and ruining my sheets with slime. Of course I had to burn them immediately after you left and father had new ones made for me. Better than the first set. He was so worried that I was distraught over you. I got so many presents those three days—in exchange for keeping my word.”

Harold tried to stop her, but she continued.

“I love presents. I think that, as my husband, you should give me a present each day. After all, you get to look at me all you want and I am most beautiful. Not that one!”

“I'm sorry miss,” responded the flower-picking servant.

“Move my throne closer so I can inspect this imbecile's choices,” she hollered to the char-moving servant. “You would think that after two months she would know which flowers are beautiful and which are not,” she explained to Harold.

“So then you have only had flowers picked for you for two months?” Harold asked hopefully. “Did you pick them yourself before that?”

“Oh of course not! Before this fool I had seven others. The first was the best. She picked flowers for me for years, but alas was pricked by a thorn on a rose bush so badly that she was forced to resign her post. I have been trying to find a suitable replacement ever since, but you just can't find good help these days! And of course I need the very best flowers. I could not do without them and no one deserves them more than me. So naturally they really should be mine. I have 23 scouts in neighboring kingdoms looking for flowers that are more beautiful than the ones you grow here.”

Harold looked at his bride with new eyes and saw, for the first time, the ugliness beneath her beauty. He knew right away that Annabelle was spoiled beyond anything he could fix. Especially since she was not so very different from what he himself had been before his unfortunate transformation.

“Come with me,” he said tenderly. “There's someone I want you to meet.”

“Can't you see I'm busy?”

“Please come, I know where the most beautiful fairy lives,” coaxed Harold.

“Oh, I love beautiful fairies!” gasped Annabelle. “Why have you not shown her to me before?” she demanded as she rose carefully from her stool.

They left the garden in silence and crossed the castle grounds into the neighboring wood. When they passed by a bush of thorns Annabelle tried to turn back, but Harold persuaded her that seeing this particular fairy would be worth passing by a bit of ugliness. They found their way to a clearing and came upon a fairy who was about as tall as a maple leaf. This particular fairy usually wore a dress of black feathers and pink rose petals, but on this particular day her dress was icy blue.

“Juniper,” the prince called. “I'd like you to meet my wife. She finds no value in anything but beauty and has a multitude of servants to wait on her for everything you can imagine. I'd like it if she could learn to see life the way I do now. Can you help us?”

Without a word the fairy began to rub her wings together. Annabelle's face turned sour and she began to sob as a high pitched droning sound filled the clearing and echoed among the trees.

Nov 13

Part 2

After spending 18 months as a frog, learning the ways of catching flies and hopping on lily pads, Frog Prince Harold was beginning to understand respect, dignity and humility. His life wasn't easy anymore and he learned those lessons of common civility that most people learn as children. Most importantly, he learned the value of individuals and their ability to affect change and benefit or hinder society as a whole. As a frog he learned how to be human. Juniper visited the spring daily to check on his progress and eventually decided that he was ready for a second chance.

On that very special day, Harold was swimming around, looking for breakfast, when he heard a plop and saw a shiny golden ball sinking to the murky bottom of his current home. He swam to the surface and found a princess weeping by the edge of the water.

“Princess, why do you weep so bitterly?” Harold asked.

“Alas!” responded the princess. “What can you do for me, you nasty frog? My golden ball has fallen into the spring.”

Harold replied, “If you will let me live with you and eat from your plate and sleep upon your bed for three nights, I will get your ball back for you.”

Princess Annabelle thought about this for a minute. “This frog will never be able to find me,” she thought. “He can't even get out of the spring, so he could never find me in my palace, especially if I don't tell him where it is. But he ma be able to fetch my ball.” She made up her mind to promise Harold what he asked for.

“All right. If you succeed in bringing me back my ball, I will do what you ask.”

Harold dove down, deep into the water and, after a little while, reemerged with Annabelle's precious golden ball. As soon as he tossed it to the edge of the spring, Annabelle grabbed it and ran off without giving Harold a second thought. He tried to call after her, but she was already too far away to hear his tiny voice.

Harold began to despair. “Will I ever encounter another princess at this spring?” he wondered. Fortunately Juniper had observed the entire incident. She flew down to Harold and told him that, if he could find this princess, she would have to keep her word and break the curse. For this purpose only, Harold was allowed to leave the spring. He searched throughout the neighboring lands, and did not succeed in finding the princess for several weeks. He would not have found her at all if it had not been for a friendly bird who told him where she lived. He slowly hopped his way to her palace and gently knocked on the door, just as the princess was sitting down to dinner.

Annabelle ran to open the door. She looked down in horror at the frog that sat on her stoop. She quickly slammed the door and locked it tightly. When she returned to the table, her father asked what the matter was. She hurriedly explained that there was a nasty frog at the door who wanted to come in for dinner.

“And why would he think he could do that?” asked the king.

“Because I promised him that he could if he got my pretty golden ball out from a spring it had fallen into. But I didn't think he'd ever find me again!”Annabelle protested.

“If you gave him your word you must keep it.”

Reluctantly Annabelle allowed Harold to eat from her plate and sleep upon her bed for three nights. When she awoke on the third morning, there was not a frog on the pillow beside her, but a handsome young prince.

Nov 12

The Frog and His Princess (Part 1)

One not so special morning, because really all mornings were the same to him, Prince Harold awoke especially late. He slowly climbed out of bed, put on his robe, and began sauntering through the castle halls as if he already owned the place. Prince Harold had the rugged girlish looks of any prince charming—he had sandy blonde hair that he spent hours sculpting each morning and the big brown eyes of a dog. He was about to enter the kitchen when a scullery maid, carrying a tray of tea to the queen's drawing room, came around the corner a little too quickly. The two collided and were both, royal and servant alike, scalded by the hot tea.

“You moron!” Shouted the prince. “What were you thinking, spilling tea on me? Don't look at me like that; you should have seen me coming and gotten out of my way. Why didn't you get out of my way? Why? Answer me, you fool!”

The poor scullery maid was scared out of her wits and could nothing but run off to the pantry in tears.

The prince laughed a cackling, menacing laugh. “Stupid girl. Now I can eat my breakfast in peace. Cook!”

“Yes, your majesty?”

“Where is my breakfast?” the prince barked.

“Sir, I'm afraid you've missed breakfast. The eggs are quite gone and your dear mother's just sent Nathan into the forest with the leftover biscuits to fee the birds and fairies.”

“The birds and the fairies,” grumbled the prince. “When I rule this kingdom, no bird or fairy shall ever eat before my royal self! Birds and fairies. Humph. Who ever heard of such lowly creatures?”

The cook, ignoring the prince's rant, retreated to the pantry to console the scullery maid, Cindy, and soon sent her off with a fresh batch of tea. Harold left the kitchen in a wild rage, not knowing what or whom to take his anger out on. He eventually singled out Cindy as the cause of his immediate troubles and went tearing through the servants' quarters in search of her room. Upon entering it he looked about the room for something to destroy, but could find nothing of value—until he saw a fairy out of the corner of his eye. This particular fairy was named Columbine Iceglitter and was a common fairy, unable to cast spells. She wore a green skirt of tulip petals and had the translucent wings of a dragonfly. She was Cindy's fairy godmother and lived in her room. The prince pounced on her, but as Columbine was an excellent flier, he only managed to catch the tip of her wing, which he promptly tore off. The injured Columbine quickly flew into her little house that sat atop Cindy's wardrobe where the prince could not reach her.

Harold left the room even more frustrated than he had entered and sulkily stomped his way through the castle. When he reached the parlor where the King and Queen were having tea he burst through the double doors and proclaimed, “When I am king there shall be no fairies!” The King and Queen were heartbroken at this utterance, but were unable to persuade the prince to see fairies in a different light. Word quickly spread throughout the kingdom that the prince would banish all fairies immediately after his coronation, which was bad enough, but worse was their reaction to his treatment of Columbine. Had Harold known what was about to unfold, perhaps he would have paid the birds and fairies a little more respect. He never could understand why his parents, the rulers of the whole land, demonstrated such high allegiance to such small subjects.

One day, about a week later, following much debate in the fairy community about what was to be done with the prince, a prominent fairy named Juniper Elfglow was assigned the task of flying to the castle to confer with Columbine about the best solution to their problem.

At first glance Juniper resembled any other fairy. She was about as tall as a maple leaf, wore a dress of black feathers and pink rose petals, and had icy blue butterfly wings. Except at the first signs of autumn, when the leaves begin to change. The blazing red, pumpkin orange and golden yellows somehow transformed her. Her dress became as icy and blue as her wings which in turn became the delicate green wings of a cicada. It was at this time that she was able to exactly match the cicada's high-pitched droning sounds. And it was from this sound that Juniper drew her power. She was a bone chilling bringer of justice for the vulnerable and lived in the woods that lay on the outskirts of the kingdom.

When Juniper arrived at the castle, her first order of business was to assess the damage done to Columbine's wing. Luckily, it was only broken off about halfway up and the stem was still intact. Cindy watched wide-eyed as the enchanting Juniper diagnosed her friend.

“Don't worry dear, fairy wings always grow back,” Columbine assured Cindy. “I'll be as good as new in a couple of weeks. Why don't you tell Juniper about the way Harold treated you.”

When Juniper heard this tale, she grew furious. She and Columbine quickly concocted the perfect punishment for the prince—they would turn him into a creature that was small, seemingly unimportant, and often treated just as he had treated Columbine and poor Cindy—a frog.

As Juniper was flying back to her home in the forest, she saw the first hint of a red leaf and a green tint began to spread from the tips of her wings.

Two weeks later, the leaves were in full bloom. Juniper came to the castle in search of the prince. She had no trouble finding him because she could easily hear his haughty tones bellowing through the halls. She found him in a heated argument with his manservant, Heinrich. The two were quarreling over the prince's recent arrogance in dealing with a neighboring kingdom. The King and Queen were away on business and Harold was left to govern in their absence.

“They never should have come to me for help in the first place. If they wanted to eat, they should have grown their own food.”

“But sir,” Heinrich pleaded. “The drought ruined their crop and we have an abundance of grain. We could easily fee all their people and all of our own and still have plenty to spare.”

“I don't care about their people. My people grew that grain for me and I intend to keep every single stalk of it!”

Juniper had heard enough. Now fully transformed, she began to rub her wings together. The prince turned in annoyance, covered his ears and began to howl. The sound grew louder and louder until it echoed many decibels higher than the prince's wails.

“I Juniper Elfglow, bringer of justice to the vulnerable, turn thee prince into a frog and banish you to the spring in the wood where you will abide until such a time that you learn to have compassion on those less powerful than you. This time will be marked when some princess should take you out of the spring, and let you eat from her plate, and sleep upon her bed for three nights.”

To Heinrich's horror, the prince's ears immediately began to shrink and his eyes grew squinty. His whole body turned a slimy shade of green. He tried to protest, but his mouth had already broadened and his tongue had grown long, pointy and sticky. When he opened his mouth to speak, all that came out was a feeble CROAK. And with a flicker of his tongue he vanished to the spring. Until such a time that a princess should fulfill the fairy's demands and break the curse.

Nov 11

How to Become a Ballerina

First lose as much weight as possible. The goal is to make it look like there is nothing between your bones and your skin. A veiled skeleton. Do this in such a way as to maintain decent muscle tone and circus freak flexibility. You must be able to reach your leg back so that your foot touches your forehead. This may take a couple years. If you gain weight during this time you automatically fail. Take up smoking if you need something to help cut back the food cravings.

You must enjoy torture to have a successful career. Practice torturing your feet so that by the time you become a ballerina they will have lost all ability to sense pain. When preforming you must never let the pain of it show on your face. Stand on wooden blocks. Balance your whole weight on whichever toe is longest. This toe will wish you lost more weight before you began. Lose a few more pounds. And a few more years. The clock is ticking. You can only be a ballerina until you turn 25 – if you're lucky. Attach the block to your foot by sewing it into a shoe. Now you can twirl, spin, leap, jump. So graceful. Console your mourning feet with a comforting ice bath to stop the bleeding. Throw out all your sandals and open-toed shoes at the first look of horror you get from a child who notices the gaping wounds on your feet.

Practice at least three hours a day. Lose a few more pounds to get a coveted spot in a summer training program. Work hard. Work harder. Push your body as far as it will go so that at any given moment it could fly off into a million pieces. Never be afraid to fall. Fear will paralyze your grace. Eat less. Smoke more. Bleed more. Wonder if this is all really worth it. Wonder if you should have gone to college like your mother said. Wonder how long you can possibly keep this up. You finally understand why dancers retire so young.

Your passion is beginning to sink. You once loved the movement, the grace, the struggle against yourself. Now you're not so sure. The third week into your summer program you get called into the office. You walk in and see a woman sitting up stick straight behind a desk that is four times as big as she is. Her hair is pulled back into a bun that is so tight that the wrinkles on her face are straightened out. Your hair is a wispy mess. With the wrong color ribbon tied around it.

“We've been observing you,” she'll say. Then she'll look down at you through a tiny pair of glasses perched on the tip of her nose; making you feel small and broken with a single glance. “We've noticed that you keep to yourself too much. You need to not be so introverted; it makes you unapproachable and makes you look like a snob.”

This woman will continue talking about your failure for several minutes before finally getting to her point. They're not officially kicking you out, but you're no longer welcome here. You will never succeed here. You will never preform here. Or more specifically: “You sit in your hips when you turn. You're at least four inches too short, your legs aren't long enough and well, let me put it this way: go get some books from the shelf over there. Before your next class tie one to your stomach and one to your back. Try to dance like that. Then take the books off and dance again and you'll see what it feels like to lose 15-20 pounds.” Yes, this is a serious suggestion.

Nov 10

On the Bench

Charity took the late train home that night. Normally she went straight home after work—she left the office promptly at 5:00 so that she could arrive at the train station at 5:15 to catch the 5:30 train. She never talked to anyone in the train station, nor did she look at anyone. People didn't interest her. People didn't notice her. She was invisible to them. Every day was the same. Same boring job. Same predictable co-workers. Same faces, blank and flat as a blanket of fresh white snow. Same empty apartment, large and lonely without even a cat to welcome her home. Same unsatisfied boyfriend. Same silence.

They'd had a fight the night before. He was looking for something she couldn't give him—passion. He wanted adventure, flight, joy. She wanted nothing. She was happy with what she had, what they had. She was content; he was restless. She was late because of him. She went for a walk after work to prove to herself that her life wasn't boring. She could change, be spontaneous, have fun. She knew how to live.

You never take any risks. You're too stuck in you're routine. You should want more out of life. I can't understand why you settled for being someone's secretary. You shouldn't be so afraid of change. You should strive for more. You need to find something you love to do. You always play it safe. Something more important should make you happy.

She wished she had been able to fight back, but she had no answers he would understand. Her rationale was stuck inside her head and it did not translate into words. His voice played round and round in her head for an hour and a half until she found herself at a bar. His voice was like the song that the ice cream truck used to play as it drove around her childhood neighborhood. So repetitive that you can still hear it after it's driven out of range.

In her head she screamed back at him. Why can't you be happy with the way things are? Why can't you love me the way I am? Why are you always trying to change me? But no matter how loud her thoughts shouted, his voice persisted. It could not be pacified. She went into the bar hoping the ambient noises would drown him out.

She took a seat near the door and looked at the bartender. He had brown hair, brown eyes, and a scruffy brown beard. At first he looked tough and hardened, but when she examined him more closely she noticed the tell-tale wrinkles of happiness spreading from the corners of his eyes. It was the first time she had really looked at someone in years. She loved him and at once hated him. She was jealous of his happiness and his monotone skin. Her was cluttered, hidden by more freckles than she'd ever had the patience to count. She wondered if her boyfriend had ever looked at her the way she was looking at this strange man, she was staring at him as if in a trance.

All of the sudden she was startled to realize that the bartender was looking back at her. She glanced nervously around the room at some rowdy football fans and the overwhelming smell of beer wafted up her nose. She decided against ordering anything and wandered back out into the cold November wind. The voice began to play again. She wanted to scream but there were people around. She felt trapped inside her body, unable to escape from this memory. She sat down on a park bench and the cold of the stone slowly crept its way through her coat. She stared straight ahead, not looking at anything. Barely moving. She loved her boyfriend but hated the way he treated her. Hated that he wanted to change her. Hated that he expected more from her.

It was from this state that she emerged to make her way home. She walked blindly down the street, not knowing or caring about the time. She arrived on the platform just as a train was whistling its approach. She looked up and a blinding light encompassed her as the train screeched to a halt. She stepped on board and took a seat, unconcerned with the existence of any other passengers.

Nov 9

In the Subway

He was waiting for her. He had been waiting for three hours and 7 minutes. She was late today, she usually rode the 5:30 train home from work. Perhaps she stayed home sick today; perhaps she had a late meeting. He longed to see her. He scuffed his feet and looked down at his shoes, faded and dingy even against the gray cement floor. He looked up immediately. He did not want to miss her. The 8:30 train was late and the platform was unusually crowded with impatient travelers. His eyes scanned all the way around the dirt soaked wall behind him, through the buzzing mob, down into the black abyss that seemed to stretch on forever, across to the other side of the tracks, and back to the wall. She was nowhere. He envied her. He envied them all. They were going places; they were living. He just was. A rock beside the road.

A little boy ran past him. His mother would soon call out his name, threatening with a hint of panic. His name was Julian. Julian and his mother and his two sisters rode the 8:30 train on the second Thursday of every month. Julian's sisters' names were Alex and Marie. Alex had blonde hair, big brown eyes and freckles. Marie was two inches taller, but an otherwise identical copy of her sister. Last month they were early and rode the 7:00 train. Three months before they had been an hour late. He had a memory like a steel trap. He knew all the regulars by name and train. About some he knew more; their family members, their jobs. There were the ones who liked to talk. He never missed out on an opportunity to listen in on a conversation. He hated the ones who talked.

She was his favorite and she never talked. She walked or stood alone. Always looking down at her feet. He had never even heard anyone speak her name. About her he could imagine any life he wanted and so he projected his life onto her. Through her, he lived. She was beautiful, with long black hair that fell in ringlets down to the small of her back. She was slender and graceful. He imagined she had a voice that could melt the heart of the stone cold wall behind him. Like the children running around on the platform, she too had freckles, but hers were as vast and numerous as the people who passed through the station each day. He longed to search her body for constellations and play connect-the-dots on her porcelain skin. She was a gypsy queen, an exotic dancer, a nurse, a lover, a friend.

Once again he searched. Dirty wall. Mob of impatience. Black abyss. And there she was. Standing directly across the tracks. The tardy train was finally approaching. Its whistle sounded and its light illuminated her with a supernatural glow. She looked up. She looked straight at him. Or rather, straight through him. His heart began to pound and he stumbled back into the wall, his legs no longer able to support his weight. He stared on as the train chugged out its good-bye and carried them all away. He alone was left on the platform, his heart rate slowly returning to normal. Her eyes were emerald green.

Nov 8

At the Bar

The door opened letting a cold gust of wind. Several dead, brown leaves and fresh snowflakes swirled around as a woman struggled to push the door shut. A few people shuddered, but no one looked up from their drinks. The woman walked in and sat down at the end of the bar closest to the door. The seats at the end were conveniently empty because of their chilly location. The bartender had his back turned and didn't notice the woman for several minutes.

After putting the finishing touches on a drink, the bartender passed it across the bar and went back to the conversation he'd been having with a man named John. At times they had to shout over the cries of the enthusiastic football fans watching the game on the other side of the room. John was talking about his divorce. He had caught his wife cheating on him. Now they were fighting over property—of the house, the car, the kids. The bartender was listening intently and sympathizing with his friend until he felt someone staring at him.

He looked slowly around the room. At the men sitting near him at the bar, at the screaming football fans, at the few people standing around the jukebox carefully choosing a song, and finally settled on the woman sitting by the door. She was looking directly at him, but didn't seem to notice that he was now looking back at her. She was stunning without a hint of conventional beauty. She had long black hair and a dusting of freckles across her face.

The bartender knew he should go over and take her order, but she was so enchanting that he couldn't move. He stood there and watched her stare at him. He felt as if she were boring into his soul with her expressionless emerald green eyes. The sound of John's voice was still droning on in the background, unaware that he had lost his audience. The woman stared coolly and seemed equally unaware of her surroundings.

This woman reminded the bartender of a girl he'd dated in college. Her name was Julia and she had the most expressive eyes he'd ever seen. She was a quiet sort of person who never let anyone know how she really felt, but he had always been able to tell when she was thinking something. Her eyes gave her away every time. Unfortunately, he was rarely able to tell what she was thinking and she never told him. In the end he got fed up with guessing and drover her away with his criticism of her silence.

Suddenly, as if driven by some internal revelation, the woman's eyes came to live. She became present in the room. She could hear the football fans, see the bartender looking at her, and smell the beer that surrounded her. In a single graceful motion she stood up and walked out without saying a word. She could have been anyone and now she was just a nameless, faceless pair of green eyes floating away down the street. The bells above the door clinked softly as the wind pulled it shut and the bartender tuned back in to John's story.

Nov 7

The train station is five minutes from the convent down at the bottom of the cliff. You can pay 2.5 Euros for a bus ride down the winding road or .90 cents for a funiculare. There are martyrs on the walls with arrows through their legs and ribs. There are old fashion photos of the station hung on the opposite wall. The funiculare arrives every five minutes and leaves every ten. The teacher stated this fact that she had learned the night before. She pushed her group faster down the busy road reminding the students of her facts: the funicular comes every five minutes and leaves every ten, the train comes at 12:30 and we have ten minutes to catch our connection.
The teacher bravely hobbled downward her belt pack swinging wildly at her side. She had a crocked smile, her class knew that because she passed around photos where she sat arm in arm with various famous friends. Her hair was always pulled back into a half ponytail allowing the hard-to-deal-with fraying ends to do what they pleased. She was living in Italy to write a book and her students met her at the end of that long year of research, after her transformation. She was love stuck with the man her book was a biography of, she was taking her student to see his Basilica, is home, his walking path and the recycled air he breathed. The teacher looked back up the road frantically to see her students casually chatting and strolling oblivious to her alerting gaze. They pulled out their tickets upon arriving at the .90 cent funiculare and got on, the doors slam and the teacher hold her breath imagining a student getting caught.
They all moved down the mountain through the harden lava rock and were let out at the bottom where the same martyr’s pictures hung as in all the other stations. The train did not come at 12:30, it was delayed and the teacher began to pace clutching her plastic bag which held her manuscript, the belt pack was on her shoulder. It arrived an hour later after the students had devoured all the sandwiches, cookies and fruit that the teacher had prepared. They boarded giggling, pushing each other into the carriage. The teacher counted heads and was the last to get on, her plastic bag was left on the stone bench outside the station as the train pulled away.

Nov 6

There was once a mighty ruler of the lands that stretched between the two sister mountains and the North speaking forests. He had twelve daughters; they were beautiful and charming but they shared a secret, one the king would give anything to know. When the daughters were looked in their bedchambers, they would disappear into the night returning in the early hours of the morning completely exhausted and their shoes worn through. The king sent out an edict throughout the land proclaiming that any man who could discover what caused his daughters to be so fatigue and their shoes to be so tattered would be given half of the kingdom. The king announced that the man should inherit his kingdom and take the hand of any of his daughters.
The arrival of the first suitor did not take long, it was a prince who bravely appeared before the king and announced that he would find the answer to the king’s daughter’s whereabouts. But after three unsuccessful nights the prince had learned nothing, which enraged the king who believed he to be taken advantage of and the prince, was sentenced to death. This pattern was continued with the same result much to the chagrin of the king whose resources were being dwindled by the constant outwearing of the shoes. When all seemed hopeless to the king as though the puzzle could never be solved an old soldier returned from years abroad.
He met along his path home an old woman and they discussed the trouble in the kingdom. The soldier took to the idea of solving the mystery saying that he had just as much of a chance in figuring it out as everyone else but with his sharpened skills from the war he believed his chances to be high. The woman gave him a cloak, which would make him invisible and advised him not to drink anything that the daughters offered him. With those words he parted with the old woman and set off for the kingdom. He was well received by the king and the first night a banquet was thrown in the soldiers honor.
The princesses remarked that it was a shame he was willing to throw his life away for an unsolvable quest but continued on with their business. Near the end of the celebration the eldest daughter approached the old soldier with a glass of wine. He thanked her and pretended to take a large gulp but really the contents of the cup was drained into a sponge he had hidden on himself. The eldest daughter smiled and returned to her sisters exclaiming that it was time for bed and the daughters all left the banquet to retire to their bedchambers. The soldier followed their example pretending that the sleeping mixture was affecting him he believed the princesses had placed in his cup and quickly set to snoring in his bedchambers that were adjacent to the daughters. One of the sisters went in to check on him once again before they were to depart and she was reassured that he was asleep despite a contrary vote from the youngest.
Without another word the eldest sister removed a small opening from the ground of their bedchambers and the sisters, one by one, began making their descent down a small rickety staircase. The soldier heard their movements and quickly put on his cloak to follow. His excitement appeared to have gotten the better of him because he stepped to quickly down each step and tripped over the gown of the youngest sister. She called them all to a halt and begged that they check on the man again feeling that something was amiss and that they would be caught this time. The eldest yelled back at her to not be a fool and to continue quickly saying that there was absolutely nothing to worry about.
At the bottom of the staircase was a shoreline, which met a large lake where twelve boats lay waiting with princes’. The soldier remained calm taking in the scenery and stepped into the boat at the same moment that the youngest princess did. He sat quietly as the men rowed each of their ladies across the lake laughing to himself when the prince remarked that the boat felt much heavier this evening than in the past. Each prince and princess excited the boat on the other side of the lake where they were greeted but bright lights and vibrant music. The trees surrounding them appeared to be made out of gold and so the soldier moved closer to them exclaiming that he should have something to show the king and prove he had indeed been with the princesses. But when he broke the branch off the tree it let out a great cry, which could not be ignored, even by the eldest daughter. Despite the outcry there appeared to be nothing out of place and quickly each prince was able to soothe his lady and bring them back to their sense.
The soldier watched from a distance as each daughter took the hands of a prince and began to dance, each turn was flawless and happened so very quickly he tried not to blink so he would not miss a moment of it. At end of the night the princes’ were the only ones who looked as awake and vibrant as at the beginning; they helped their sleeping dance partners back into the boats and rowed them to the other shore where the ladies dreamily slumped back up the staircase. The soldier took advantage of their sleepy state and ran quickly by them and back into his bed before they came into check on him before they too fell into their beds.
Just a couple minutes after the soldier and the princesses had fallen asleep the king came to their chambers and unlocked the doors. He was curious if the soldier had managed to find anything out but instead found that he too had fallen asleep. This angered the king who was anxious and expecting news, his advisers reminded him that the soldier still had two more days and so the king let him sleep loosing hope that this man would bring him any closer to the truth.
The next night went much the same way, the princesses flirted with the soldier and offered him more wine and he pretended to fall into a deep sleep at the table. The ladies laughed to themselves taking enjoyment from his stupidity and again dressed up, put on a new pair of shoes and went underground with the soldier following close behind. This time the soldier went with the eldest sister across the lake, but the prince make not outcry of the weight difference. The soldier moved closer to where the princes danced observing in detail their grace and their smiles. Before leaving in the early morning the soldier reached toward the trees again but was rebuffed by it and so went to a bush of silver instead to pull off a branch. A sharp cry was let out by the branch which made the sisters more alert and woke them from the foggy haze but the princes hummed a soft lullaby as the rowed them to the shore and this reassured the princesses.
It was the same on the third night but the soldier had learned that the plant life would give him away and so he took a gold goblet instead from the banquet table that stood just outside the dance floor. It was odd that such an elaborate table was set up, no one ever stopped to rest for a moment and no one looked to refreshments and so the soldier did not see how it could possibly be missed. The soldier had learned all that he needed to know about the underground palace and what the king’s daughters had been up to and so he went with confidence up the staircase at the end of the third night and passed his bedchambers. In his arms were the small tokens he had collected that would prove he had been somewhere separate from the kingdom despite being locked in his chambers every evening as the princesses had been.
“My Lord,” the soldier began, “I have discovered the whereabouts of your daughters”. He had burst into the king’s personal chambers with such enthusiasm; the king hardly had time to be angry. The soldier’s words echoed through the halls and the princesses awoke with a fright. No other suitor had dared to find the king with his discovery, and none had approached the king with such confidence. They went dashing from their beds despite the exhaustion, which told them to stay in bed, and ran straight to the outer chambers listening quietly to the soldier.
“They have been dancing my king”. The soldier said. He lay the golden leaf, the silver branch and the golden goblet in front of the king, “underground it would seem. They are met by twelve princes and escorted to another kingdom.” The princesses’ let out a unified gasp; they had indeed been discovered and now would be called in. They did not deny the soldiers statement; it had been true after all.
The king thanked the soldier for his discovery and reassured him that he would be the next heir to the kingdom. Pointing towards his daughters the king told the soldier to pick his bride from among them. The soldier noted, “I am not a young man” and then took three strides towards the eldest daughter and held out his hand. They were joined in marriage shortly after and the king gave a toast to the couple in the same goblet that the soldier had used as evidence. The other sisters were banished to the underground after their sisters marriage having lost favor with their father, where they were said to have danced away the rest of their lives. After the kings death the soldier took his place as the new king with the eldest daughter by his side and together they ruled.

Nov 5

The process of becoming so clever and assertive took Eve centuries to learn, although the inkling had been there all along. She had had her yeas of fear, confusion and resentment but what she finally learned to crave was power and finality. Taking down this kingdom was a fun thing to play at but her senses told her that something much more important was connected then simply destruction. Eve was almost able to smell her former life on the breeze that traveled to her when Evelyn had first entered the north. At first she went frantic, shutting herself off to all outsiders; and waiting for King Rufus to call for her. She bid her time deciding how she should interact with the foreign princess. From what she could make out from courtly gossip, Evelyn and Henry, the king's son, had made an instant connection and she seemed to charm each and every person she met. Eve scoffed fully aware of how well women could put on charades. Decades of rulers and suitors had shown her that. Although, Eve noted, it was interesting that Henry appeared to be taking a long term interest in his betrothed.

Nov 4

We became convinced that there was internet in our room and searched the art rooms all afternoon for the proper to tools. Anna found the screw driver tucked it under her shirt and together we ran up the flight of stairs avoiding eye contact with the rest of the members of our hall quite sure that the smirks on our faces gave away our devious intentions. We flew into the room slamming the door behind us; two more doors, as if on cue, swung shut after ours motioned by the wind which daily suctioned rooms shut. Jumping on my bed we threw my rainbow fleece blanket on the brown tile and laid out our instruments. The right side of the electric socket unscrewed easily but the second refused to budge. We took turns until our hands began to blister. Finally we began pulling the cover off the electric socket in the most animated fashion freeing what we hoped was a jack for the internet. The screws fell scattered on the white sheets, something we later regretted. It was a failed mission but we ended with a hearty laugh. “At least we know that if we sneak into the guest rooms we can plug in” exclaimed Anna collecting the metal screws in between my tossed sheets.

Nov 3

Everyone woke by eight each and every morning. There were workers on the roof who seemed to take particular care to whack the ceramic roof with a force that made some sure the ceiling would cave in as they walked under it. The building was extremely old and had lately fallen into disrepair after fifty years of abandonment. Tiny ghosts were seen gliding through the corridors and peering into mirrors after students had sued them. The walls were stark white, dry walled to Italian perfection it made a few choice individuals willing to splatter their own bodies across it just to provide a change in scenery. Outside was a world of light that provided a daily and necessary escape to those who felt tension indoors build to such a high pressure that it would push you out the dungeon door and onto the grey cobblestone courtyard.
Ignoring the scaffolding and locked doors within the courtyard she walked through the iron gate onto the busiest motor road and avoided an oncoming bus. Brushing arms with the more mild townspeople she hurried up the street, her boots hitting the ground faster and with more emphasis with each step. There was no destination but that was not a problem in a small town full of unimportant strolls and lingering conversations. The faster she walked the less she felt, finally on the outskirts the wind picked up blowing dust into her face, she allowed it breathing deeply letting the view from off the cliff fill her lungs. She did not go next to the Duomo or another decorated church, she sauntered past them and sat instead at a cafÈ with her back to the piazza.
Stumbling with her limited Italian she ordered a cappuccino and a pastry, the barrista smiled pleasantly back at her. The woman was pure Italian, thick black eyebrows, long brown hair, she rested a hand on a swollen stomach. For all the talk of decreased birth rates this town seemed to be single-handedly making up the difference in numbers. She grabbed the china cup and plate sitting by herself trying to think and quiet a laugh that had begun to build inside of her. The sky- it was like any Renaissance painting- you almost were upset by the lack of cherubim in the sky. Why here in a place of splendor did she sit so absolutely enraged? It would pass. She scraped the foam off the side of the cup, put the spoon to the side and left heading back slowly trying to blend with the crowds filling the main corso for the post repaso walk. Dodged a series of vespas and smart cars and ducking in behind the iron gate she pulled open the dark wood door and closed it with an echoing thud.

Nov 2

Do you know what is most remarkable about the fantastic? It is how you can grow so accustomed to it, so much so that you begin to believe it is truth; and what was normal becomes terrifying and unfamiliar. It was with this growing sense of security that the women set out the first night after their father's edit had been passed. Evelyn assured them all that there was simply nothing to fear and that they 'should all hurry up'!
By standing united against their father they had lost their privacy. Their solidarity actually surprised them all, each one shocked and relieved that their sisterly bond could be so strong after so much deceit. Their father was dumbstruck as he watched each of the girls give the same answer.
"Father, we know nothing of how our shoes are destroyed in the night... but I am so very tired, may I please be excused?" He was furiously but sat silently in his high back chair glaring as each curtsied and left them room treading lightly on their tender heels. He thought them absurdly brave to tell such a bold face lie when he held their livelihood in his hands.
In retaliation of their stubbornness he insisted that they all share a room and be treated as children. It was clear they needed to relearn their childhood lessons and so Jenna's room would hence forth be called the nursery. The very idea that the king would be willing to humiliate his own family so publicly made people wonder how stable the king was. It seemed that fate had intervened though for in his rage his daughters chuckled at his foolishness. They would no longer be caught sneaking out of their bedrooms but would sleep just a foot away from the entrance to their secret and beloved kingdom.
The princesses warned their men down below halfheartedly and then thought no more of the world of lies above. Eve could not have been more pleased. She had grown accustomed to the beginnings of paranoia and destruction; she saw their father sink quickly into this role and rejoiced. Evelyn too, had a much fast transition from naivete to her newly formed sinister self and Eve could hardly ask for more. It was nice when things went according to plan.

November 1

For all you unbelievers who did not think we would make it through the entire month in one dress, here is the evidence! And now, triumph, we have an even greater challenge in store for the month of November. Thirty days of writing.

The Goal: To post an original piece of writing- be it fictitious, ranting or lists - to be enjoyed by all for thirty days in November.

Rules: One post must be placed online by 11:59PM each day and pass for acceptable standards as being both entertaining and comprehensible (as judged by roommate).

Exceptions: No post will be written if both arms fall off our bodies simultaneously, otherwise, this will be accomplished!

Our Reasoning:

Michele and I work hard and desperately need creative outlets. With the success of our October challenge, we thought it was time to think of another seemingly impossible task to conquer.

We also hope that by making the goal of writing something worth others reading daily, we shall be inspired to write more for ourselves...and others. I have begun a story loosely based off the tale of the 12 Dancing Princesses that desperately desires an ending.

Hopefully this will yet again be as entertaining for you who check in, as it is for us... so until tomorrow!

October 31

Sarah was mostly dead after her horribly long Halloween weekend in Salem, but extremely happy to be done with the month.  We are considering a ceremonial burning of the dresses...

Finally done!!!

TaDa - We made it :)