Wreaths Held Underwater Will Float to the Surface

The was soft tock on the grand door. Evie struggled to open the heavy door, but managed nonetheless.

The guard lowered his eyes. "His Royal Highness requests your attendance at dinner. May there be anything you require?"

"I hope he knows sprites aren't carnivorous."Evie answered passively.

"But I am," grinned Ray showing his teeth.


Evie sat on the pompous, red cushioned, hand tooled chair, ostentatiously far too low for her. Her chin barely met the edge of the tall oak table while her feet were left hovering in emptiness.

She felt uncomfortable.

The young Prince Zoraan was overtly curious. He gently prodded away at both her own and the sprite's secrets of nature. Evie barely managed to eat a mouthful, nor did she manage to reply politely without completely avoiding the topic and talking in circles. Why don't you travel with your sprite ring? Why are you with the dog? Why does your wreath wilt so quickly? What is your reason this? Why that? Why? Why? Why?

Evie wanted to scream with frustration. She was a natural creature, not under any obligation to suffer the curiosities of a young prince, almost four hundred years her junior.

She abruptly pushed hard on the large oak table. The table shivered but the chair gave way, creaking backwards and then to a halt.

"May I be excused?"

Without listening to the answer, Evie headed out, despearate for a breath of fresh air. Ray's ear flopped up, questioning her but she ignored him. She stopped by a window, leaning heavily on the frame. Stomping her little feet and grasping the frame tightly. 

The prince was not a bad prince, in fact, he was rather adequate compared to her brother. However, Evie was not fond of royalty. They claimed ownership over land that was not theirs, nor hers for that matter, but she, not he was an agent of mother nature. He had far less a right to impose his authority than she did. All the time, Evie could hear the weeping and the pleading of little seedling stuck under the cobblestones, the buildings, unable to flourish nor die because of developement. 

Why couldn't humans live like sprites? Why couldn't they live off the land, living in the land, and the abundance  the great mother offered? It hurt her.

In the midst of her mental rant, a nostalgic flash of white, sometimes  a hint silvery in the sunlight caught her spritish eyes. And then she began to run.

The End

78 comments about this exercise Feed