Provided a prompt of a photo of a sad woman at a tower window, wearing a gorgeous, creamy gown, the instructions were to write 750 words. This is my submission.
The Tower and The Gown
“Hello. We meet again.”
“Excuse me? Were you speaking to me?”
“Yes. I said, we meet again. I remember you from last time.”
“Sorry, do I know you?”
“You were here last summer, in the storm.”
“I think you might be mistaken, I’ve never been up here.”
“I’m terribly sorry. You all look so alike.”
“I beg your
pardon? ‘You all’? What’s that
supposed to mean, exactly?”
“Nothing! I just meant that there are… similarities…”
“Such as what? Integrity? Craftsmanship?”
“Yes! And… er...ruffles.”
“Ruffles. Really.”
“They’re NICE ruffles.”
“I know they are nice, but that’s not what I use to define my truth.
Typical of you lot, to overlook the intricacies of the individual and just see
the surface.”
“AH HA! NOW who’s using gross generalizations! I am unique!
Strong and proud…”
“I can see four identical towers from this window alone.”
“….so, what brings you up here?”
“She’s had a fight with her father. I think this one was
about a marriage to some warty old duke.”
“Huh. Last time it was over keeping a pony in her private
garden.”
“Yes, she won that one. The sorry little thing is still
there, chewing up the roses and causing a huge mess. I HATE it when it nibbles
for sugar lumps. Oh, here we go. She’s throwing herself onto the floor to weep.
You know, it would be nice if she brought a blanket or something. This is hell
on my seams.”
“Sorry. My engineer favoured granite for durability. He
wasn’t really planning on defending the castle from hordes of weeping
teenagers.”
“Given how many daughters kings tend to produce, you’d think
he might have given it a passing thought.”
“I know right? So what’s wrong with the duke?”
“The king has made an arrangement with this duke who has
buckets of money. In exchange for her hand in marriage, the duke has promised
to fund the king’s plans for fortification and renovation.”
“Renovation.”
“Yes.”
“Renovation?”
“Yes, that’s what he said.”
“Did he say what
he was renovating?”
“I don’t think so. She doesn’t usually take much of an
interest so he didn’t elaborate on his plans.”
“But surely he’ll take service into account. I mean,
seniority has to be recognized, doesn’t it? RENOVATIONS?”
“Easy now, you’re starting to tremble. If you crumble, it’s
not going to help your case.”
“I’M UPSET.”
“Well try to stay calm. There’s no need to make a fuss. You
don’t even know you’re on one of the walls scheduled for blasting. Whoops.”
“BLASTING?!”
“Listen, we all have our part to play. I am meant to sweep
elegantly along in a waterfall of creamy folds while she makes dramatic
statements about marriage or attempts to ride that bloody pony. And when she’s
done, she’ll toss me on the floor and I will become the property of her lady’s
maid, who will likely take me apart and use me to make a dress for her little
girl or a burial shroud for her nan. And someday, you’ll be an outhouse and a
farmer’s cottage.”
“HOW CAN YOU SAY THAT? I’VE DEFENDED THIS CASTLE FOR
CENTURIES.”
“Well, you’ve let yourself go a bit. I mean, have you seen
your mortar? And these cornices, tsk tsk. You could at least TRY to make an effort.”
“Listen. There has to be something you can do to help. What if you could get her to marry this duke
fellow and then have me converted to a library? I’d make a great library.”
“It’s not really up to me. I’m just glorious confection of
silk and pearls. Drafting a pre-nup isn’t really in my wheelhouse.”
“I can’t be torn down. I’d rather… I’d rather TOPPLE.”
“Now, don’t be hasty…”
“NO! YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND! THIS IS ABOUT CHOICE! AND THIS IS
THE ONLY ONE I HAVE!”
“You’re starting to sway! Look! She’s running down your
steps, at least let her get me out of here! I’m from FRANCE!”
“GOOD BYE, CRUEL WORLD. ‘ Years of love have been forgot, in
the hatred of a minute!’”
“Oh, that’s lovely. Is that Poe?”
“I TOLD YOU I WOULD HAVE MADE A GREAT LIBRARY!”
The Rumbling and Thunderous
End
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