Steph: "I would like you to write a short continuation of Stockton's story, not necessarily in Stockton's style, feel free to make it your own, of course. Perhaps reveal what happened when he opened the door, and where you think the story would go from there."
------------------
It little profits that an idle queen,
With decadent children soon to govern
Barbarous men with men's unequal laws,
To reminisce on the past pangs of lust
And ancient futures behind fated doors.
He got a bride -- lovely in every way.
But a princess dies, and is reborn Queen.
A shame no barbarous land will be led
Without a regal lout to scratch his beard;
He laughs when a lean tiger mauls a man.
Our kingdom claims balance in such cruelty.
Which we are given by the god of chance,
But can a capricous god forgive,
And dowl out just to just so that no
Mother should thereby be caused to cry?
My king breathes heavy and walks odd with gout.
When our son stands in his stead how will he
Sentence those misfortunate maidens to marry
Men who the god of chance chose so poorly?
-----------------------
Notes: I apologize for subjecting you to my attempt at poetry. This poem still isn't great, but I'm done tooling with it and ready to move on to the next topic.
Showing posts with label doors. Show all posts
Showing posts with label doors. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Monday, October 8, 2007
The Doors
I still need to write Scene 3. Sigh.
ACT 1, SCENE 1
The King's Antechambers.
The KING sits on his throne. Enter THE PRINCESS distraught.
King. Daughter. Truly, I would give ten years of life to see you happy for one. Tell, is it the boy? The rapscallion who stole thy heart?
Princess. It is not the rapscallion who stole my heart that troubles it, for, as thou hast said, it has already been stolen -- I've no heart left to be troubled.
King. Say not such bitter things! Today, justice hath been served -- that fortuitous creature called fate, in corroboration with chance, hath shown me the villainy of that man; but we are avoiding the question. Why must my daughter fall prey to sadness at a time like this; nay, at any time?
Princess. It is not for me to say, father, nor is it for you to listen. I shall keep my burdens close to my breast, so that it may not worry you. Have you not a kingdom to run? Worry not the needs of one woman, that the needs of scores of noblemen shall be left unmet. In time, my heart will return to me. On that day I will inform you, as to day, where I informed you of its departure.
King. I see. Retire, then, to thy chambers, where sleep will rob you of your tears, and in the night I shall see to it that thine heart alights upon your desk, so that when you awake you shall find it willing to continue. There is much work to be done, though, dear daughter, and to that end I am afraid I must see thee off.
The king stands up.
King. Come, now, tarry not lest we be plagued by beseeching commoners.
Princess. Yes, father.
Exeunt.
Enter The LADY, EULEN, and COMMONER.
Lady. What noisome beast! What foul-bred, ill-mannered, tempestuous succubus would do such a thing? Were my status higher, I would call for her hanging!
Eulen. What sayeth thou? Who deserves to have such names hurled at them, and for what reason?
Lady. I dare not say, and yet -- oh, my blood, it boils! To know that she had led him to his demise...
Eulen. Surely you could not mean this morning's arena event! The man was guilty, my lady. Even thou knewest it.
Lady. And it was that guilt that led him to the wrong door! Hear me, Eulen, for wrongdoing hath been done, and I shall not rest until her father has her put to a likewise test.
Commoner. Trust in the fairest lady of the city to be the most ebullient.
Eulen. Give the lady her chance to speak, or I shall rip the tongue from your head. If she speaks, it is the truth. All that is left to wonder is whether or not we can do anything about it.
Lady. Whether or not we can, indeed! I shall see to it that she pays, be it by judge or by my own hands.
Commoner 'Zounds! Calm your self, lady, or the earth itself will quake in fear, and we'll all be lost to the pits. The woman you called witch is the princess, correct? Surely, she must have done some wrong. But for all your heart's baying, you were as trapped as the tiger; there is no way to know for certain such events occurred as your mind imagines them. Perhaps a soft down bed shall see your senses restored.
Eulen. He is right. I would not go after a Princess, particularly one as strong-headed as ours, without the time to consider alternatives.
Lady. Perhaps... keep thine ears against the walls this night. I would like to hear what the little birds have to say about our Princess. She must have done some wrong; although he was guilty of being seduced by that demon, he was an innocent at heart, and fate left alone would have shown him the way to my arms. I am certain of it. And when the instrument of the Gods is played with, some one hears it some where.
Eulen. I shall do my best. Be certain of it.
Commoner. For what little worth my word has in this town, I will give you it. Mostly, I am curious as to the veracity of your claims. Perhaps the times are not as boring as they appear!
Lady, angrily. My love was murdered by a monster from the orient, and thou carest only for excitement! Begone from my sight; I'll speak to thee no more.
the Commoner leaves.
Eulen. Was that necessary, my lady?
Lady. Yes.
Eulen. Your bed calls out to thee; why not heed it? My ears will remain open until such a time as the information you seek finds his way in.
Lady. When that time occurs, could thou wakest me?
Eulen. If that is thy wish. My apprentice is fine enough to handle the early business him self, if but for today. And today, it is worth it.
Lady. Thanks to thee.
Exeunt.
ACT 1, SCENE 2
The Princess's bedchambers.
The Princess lays in bed.
Princess. O, dost the wind blow heartily tonight! It beats upon my brow, upon my breast, and even in this room the chill dost cut through the bone. these fineries are no match for the sinister imprecations of that wind. O, ye Gods, cease this infernal wailing!
The MAN enters.
Man. It is not the Gods that are wailing, my love.
Princess. How... what manner of devil are you, that seeks to bewitch me by assuming my lover's form?
Man. It is I that am wailing.
Beat.
Man. I will not question thy intentions. I simply wished to see thee before the Eternal called me back.
Princess. I've found myself trapped in a nightmare, then! For no ghost would deign to visit a foolish woman such as I. O, how I regret that final moment!
Man, moving closer. I know not regret, my love, nor anger at thy betrayal. All I know is longing for the passion that lies hidden within thineself. Has that spark already faded?
Princess. It has. With thy death, all reasoning hath ceased. Perhaps it is my heart that hath ceased, that thou comest upon me now, to carry me into the Heavens. I would like that dearly. Not one day has yet passed, and already I feel the weight of eternity bearing down upon me. I do not know which is the more worrisome; that I killed thee, or that I did not intend to kill thee.
Man, now upon her. Come with me into the cold, my love; I care not for intentions anymore. Thine choice has been made; now come with me!
The Princess screams. Exit Man. Enter Eulen.
Eulen. Princess, what nightmare's got you so bespotted?
Princess. Who are you?
Eulen. A humble blacksmith, my lady, entertaining the desire to explore the palace. I was a friend of... I am sorry. Perhaps now is not the time for such talk. Hark, the wind blows cruelly tonight! The palace walls can barely contain it. Ghosts walk the halls on nights like these, they say.
Princess. Then you saw him? You saw my dear one's spirit as well?
Eulen. I have seen no such thing! It's all children's tales, regardless of how well they frighten. Worry not, my Princess, it was assuredly a nightmare. The dead do not walk any more than the mannequin by the front of my store.
Princess. Were I you, I would be more careful of my tongue; I do not doubt my experience, and you should not doubt me. I do not hold the same disdain for your class as my father does, but that does not mean I suffer fools and disbelievers lightly. I tell you, he came.
Eulen. I am certain that he did. May I ask what he said?
Princess. You may not. Nor may you speak of this to any one; I will not have it known that spirits prowl the palace, particularly this one.
Eulen. Very well. If he was indeed here, then have I not saved your life? For that, I ask one favor.
Princess. You are quite presumptuous, to ask favors of a princess after sneaking into her bedchambers! I could have you put to the arena.
Eulen. Ah, but I am not guilty of anything but chance, and if chance shall lead me here, then it shall follow me into the arms of my lady, the fairest and most beautiful woman in the land. Is that thou, or is that thy lover's concubine, I wonder? Regardless, my favor is this: confess thy sin to thy father, and no one else. If my lady hears of it, she will surely come to murder you. If any in the city hear of it, then she shall hear of it too, for there are many little birds that like to flit about and gossip. To let such a thing pass, though; even one so strong as thou darest not shoulder this burden alone!
Princess. I will see thee hanged for this.
Eulen. Worry not for nightmares, princess. If thou art guilty, they will most certainly come. If thou art innocent, the Heavens will leave thee be.
Exit Eulen.
Princess. That man! He knows; shall I put him to the death as well? Is such a thing wise? I'd rather that no one have to face that tiger again; ever if at all possible! And yet, if word gets out, I'll have nowhere to turn. Think! Ignore this howling wind and think! I cannot simply say nothing; there was menace in his voice, of that there is no doubt. I cannot tell my father, for he shall disown me, or put me to my death. It is not my fault! Gods, I beseech you, understand this: that I had planned for days to give him up to her, that foolish commoner girl! I was going to be the noble my father had raised, but my blood -- curse this barbarian blood of mine, I couldn't see her take him! It was not my intention, but he is dead none the less, and now I am the less for it! This situation is without solution; so thinking, I must cut the tangled mess as best I can and pray. That blacksmith must be put to death. My father must not know, and that man would clearly rattle like a snake as soon as he learned I have no plans to confess. He was wrong; I am strong enough to face these ghosts and nightmares. I dare the devil himself to come and prove me wrong. This I swear: that to night, I shall sleep like a babe, and wake up just as new.
ACT 1, SCENE 1
The King's Antechambers.
The KING sits on his throne. Enter THE PRINCESS distraught.
King. Daughter. Truly, I would give ten years of life to see you happy for one. Tell, is it the boy? The rapscallion who stole thy heart?
Princess. It is not the rapscallion who stole my heart that troubles it, for, as thou hast said, it has already been stolen -- I've no heart left to be troubled.
King. Say not such bitter things! Today, justice hath been served -- that fortuitous creature called fate, in corroboration with chance, hath shown me the villainy of that man; but we are avoiding the question. Why must my daughter fall prey to sadness at a time like this; nay, at any time?
Princess. It is not for me to say, father, nor is it for you to listen. I shall keep my burdens close to my breast, so that it may not worry you. Have you not a kingdom to run? Worry not the needs of one woman, that the needs of scores of noblemen shall be left unmet. In time, my heart will return to me. On that day I will inform you, as to day, where I informed you of its departure.
King. I see. Retire, then, to thy chambers, where sleep will rob you of your tears, and in the night I shall see to it that thine heart alights upon your desk, so that when you awake you shall find it willing to continue. There is much work to be done, though, dear daughter, and to that end I am afraid I must see thee off.
The king stands up.
King. Come, now, tarry not lest we be plagued by beseeching commoners.
Princess. Yes, father.
Exeunt.
Enter The LADY, EULEN, and COMMONER.
Lady. What noisome beast! What foul-bred, ill-mannered, tempestuous succubus would do such a thing? Were my status higher, I would call for her hanging!
Eulen. What sayeth thou? Who deserves to have such names hurled at them, and for what reason?
Lady. I dare not say, and yet -- oh, my blood, it boils! To know that she had led him to his demise...
Eulen. Surely you could not mean this morning's arena event! The man was guilty, my lady. Even thou knewest it.
Lady. And it was that guilt that led him to the wrong door! Hear me, Eulen, for wrongdoing hath been done, and I shall not rest until her father has her put to a likewise test.
Commoner. Trust in the fairest lady of the city to be the most ebullient.
Eulen. Give the lady her chance to speak, or I shall rip the tongue from your head. If she speaks, it is the truth. All that is left to wonder is whether or not we can do anything about it.
Lady. Whether or not we can, indeed! I shall see to it that she pays, be it by judge or by my own hands.
Commoner 'Zounds! Calm your self, lady, or the earth itself will quake in fear, and we'll all be lost to the pits. The woman you called witch is the princess, correct? Surely, she must have done some wrong. But for all your heart's baying, you were as trapped as the tiger; there is no way to know for certain such events occurred as your mind imagines them. Perhaps a soft down bed shall see your senses restored.
Eulen. He is right. I would not go after a Princess, particularly one as strong-headed as ours, without the time to consider alternatives.
Lady. Perhaps... keep thine ears against the walls this night. I would like to hear what the little birds have to say about our Princess. She must have done some wrong; although he was guilty of being seduced by that demon, he was an innocent at heart, and fate left alone would have shown him the way to my arms. I am certain of it. And when the instrument of the Gods is played with, some one hears it some where.
Eulen. I shall do my best. Be certain of it.
Commoner. For what little worth my word has in this town, I will give you it. Mostly, I am curious as to the veracity of your claims. Perhaps the times are not as boring as they appear!
Lady, angrily. My love was murdered by a monster from the orient, and thou carest only for excitement! Begone from my sight; I'll speak to thee no more.
the Commoner leaves.
Eulen. Was that necessary, my lady?
Lady. Yes.
Eulen. Your bed calls out to thee; why not heed it? My ears will remain open until such a time as the information you seek finds his way in.
Lady. When that time occurs, could thou wakest me?
Eulen. If that is thy wish. My apprentice is fine enough to handle the early business him self, if but for today. And today, it is worth it.
Lady. Thanks to thee.
Exeunt.
ACT 1, SCENE 2
The Princess's bedchambers.
The Princess lays in bed.
Princess. O, dost the wind blow heartily tonight! It beats upon my brow, upon my breast, and even in this room the chill dost cut through the bone. these fineries are no match for the sinister imprecations of that wind. O, ye Gods, cease this infernal wailing!
The MAN enters.
Man. It is not the Gods that are wailing, my love.
Princess. How... what manner of devil are you, that seeks to bewitch me by assuming my lover's form?
Man. It is I that am wailing.
Beat.
Man. I will not question thy intentions. I simply wished to see thee before the Eternal called me back.
Princess. I've found myself trapped in a nightmare, then! For no ghost would deign to visit a foolish woman such as I. O, how I regret that final moment!
Man, moving closer. I know not regret, my love, nor anger at thy betrayal. All I know is longing for the passion that lies hidden within thineself. Has that spark already faded?
Princess. It has. With thy death, all reasoning hath ceased. Perhaps it is my heart that hath ceased, that thou comest upon me now, to carry me into the Heavens. I would like that dearly. Not one day has yet passed, and already I feel the weight of eternity bearing down upon me. I do not know which is the more worrisome; that I killed thee, or that I did not intend to kill thee.
Man, now upon her. Come with me into the cold, my love; I care not for intentions anymore. Thine choice has been made; now come with me!
The Princess screams. Exit Man. Enter Eulen.
Eulen. Princess, what nightmare's got you so bespotted?
Princess. Who are you?
Eulen. A humble blacksmith, my lady, entertaining the desire to explore the palace. I was a friend of... I am sorry. Perhaps now is not the time for such talk. Hark, the wind blows cruelly tonight! The palace walls can barely contain it. Ghosts walk the halls on nights like these, they say.
Princess. Then you saw him? You saw my dear one's spirit as well?
Eulen. I have seen no such thing! It's all children's tales, regardless of how well they frighten. Worry not, my Princess, it was assuredly a nightmare. The dead do not walk any more than the mannequin by the front of my store.
Princess. Were I you, I would be more careful of my tongue; I do not doubt my experience, and you should not doubt me. I do not hold the same disdain for your class as my father does, but that does not mean I suffer fools and disbelievers lightly. I tell you, he came.
Eulen. I am certain that he did. May I ask what he said?
Princess. You may not. Nor may you speak of this to any one; I will not have it known that spirits prowl the palace, particularly this one.
Eulen. Very well. If he was indeed here, then have I not saved your life? For that, I ask one favor.
Princess. You are quite presumptuous, to ask favors of a princess after sneaking into her bedchambers! I could have you put to the arena.
Eulen. Ah, but I am not guilty of anything but chance, and if chance shall lead me here, then it shall follow me into the arms of my lady, the fairest and most beautiful woman in the land. Is that thou, or is that thy lover's concubine, I wonder? Regardless, my favor is this: confess thy sin to thy father, and no one else. If my lady hears of it, she will surely come to murder you. If any in the city hear of it, then she shall hear of it too, for there are many little birds that like to flit about and gossip. To let such a thing pass, though; even one so strong as thou darest not shoulder this burden alone!
Princess. I will see thee hanged for this.
Eulen. Worry not for nightmares, princess. If thou art guilty, they will most certainly come. If thou art innocent, the Heavens will leave thee be.
Exit Eulen.
Princess. That man! He knows; shall I put him to the death as well? Is such a thing wise? I'd rather that no one have to face that tiger again; ever if at all possible! And yet, if word gets out, I'll have nowhere to turn. Think! Ignore this howling wind and think! I cannot simply say nothing; there was menace in his voice, of that there is no doubt. I cannot tell my father, for he shall disown me, or put me to my death. It is not my fault! Gods, I beseech you, understand this: that I had planned for days to give him up to her, that foolish commoner girl! I was going to be the noble my father had raised, but my blood -- curse this barbarian blood of mine, I couldn't see her take him! It was not my intention, but he is dead none the less, and now I am the less for it! This situation is without solution; so thinking, I must cut the tangled mess as best I can and pray. That blacksmith must be put to death. My father must not know, and that man would clearly rattle like a snake as soon as he learned I have no plans to confess. He was wrong; I am strong enough to face these ghosts and nightmares. I dare the devil himself to come and prove me wrong. This I swear: that to night, I shall sleep like a babe, and wake up just as new.
Sunday, October 7, 2007
Hemp - Phut's Ombudsman (The Doors)
Steph: I would like you to write a short continuation of Stockton's story, not necessarily in Stockton's style, feel free to make it your own, of course. Perhaps reveal what happened when he opened the door, and where you think the story would go from there."
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Stockton wrote a story that can be unjustly summarized as: A king punishes his daughter's lover. The lover will be forced to pick between two doors. Behind the first will be a ferocious man-eating tiger; behind the second will be a beautiful woman ordered to marry the lover. The princess knows which door contains which and as the lover is about to choose, she points to the door on the right.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Stockton wrote a story that can be unjustly summarized as: A king punishes his daughter's lover. The lover will be forced to pick between two doors. Behind the first will be a ferocious man-eating tiger; behind the second will be a beautiful woman ordered to marry the lover. The princess knows which door contains which and as the lover is about to choose, she points to the door on the right.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
"Phut's Ombudsman"
Phut stared at the tiger’s orange eyes and the orange met his gaze. Phut could feel the urine trickling down his thigh, but he remained motionless in front of the open door. After a moment, the tiger arched its back with its hind high in the air and he knew his time had come. But just as he thought the beast would pounce, the tiger lowered itself to the ground and laid down on its stomach.
Phut slowly moved his hand towards the edge of the door; he wanted to slide the door closed without alarming the tiger. As luck would have it, his fear-induced paralysis kept him within close range. The crowd in the small arena gasped as Phut closed the door and he carefully stepped away from it.
Phut went to one knee as he attempted to calm himself down. He could barely hear the murmurs of the audience over his own heavy breathing. After a brief pause, he rose and walked across the sandy floor of the arena to the other door. He opened it and saw the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He had met her before and she smiled as she saw him. Perhaps she was relieved by the fact that this game was over, Phut thought. Or maybe, she was simply wanted to spite Li. As Phut stared at the ruby encrusted hair of his newly found fiancée, he had one thought: She picked the tiger.
Phut looked up to the royal box to see his lover, Li, sitting next to her father, the king’s first minister, and the king’s ombudsman While Phut couldn’t tell what their expressions were, he could tell that Li was upset, the king looked animated, and the first minister and ombudsman were both trying to maintain order. Then he heard the stomping: at first, only a few audience members were stomping. Before long, the entire crowd was stomping in unison. Phut looked to his prospective bride and shared in her surprise; this kind of outpouring from the crowd has never occurred. Although, the fact that Phut had picked both doors meant that, today, all the rules were to be broken.
“Seize him,” the first minister bellowed. Moment later, Phut was surrounded by the king’s guardsmen. As he was being shuffled along by the guards, Phut looked to the princess who met his gaze. Around her, Phut could see the king conferencing with his advisors and the advisors attempting to calm the ruler down.
Hours later, Phut still remained in the dungeon of the arena. He had not seen Li, his betrothed or any other person beyond the guards. In the darkness, he focused on a single thought: She picked the tiger.
When what seemed like days had passed, an older man walked through the archway into the room that contained Phut’s cell. Phut knew the king’s first minister from their chance encounters during his many rendezvous with Li. While he smelled of flowery perfumes and while jewels adorned his neck, one would still notice the contrast between his bushy grey mustache and bald head. The first minister quickly waved off the room’s only guard and stood a few feet away from the cell.
“Young man, you caused quite the stir today. I haven’t seen our king doubt the Gods this much since our queen died. He doesn’t understand what happened and he wants an answer,” the minister said.
“If you came for answer, you are wasting your time. I don’t know what happened. The tiger should have killed me,” Phut replied.
“Yes, it should have. But you see, it appears that we have been…overusing our tiger. Too many of our accused have picked the wrong door lately,” the first minister said with a feint touch of satisfaction. “I have come for two tasks. First, the princes would like to know you need anything."
“I don’t want anything from her. Tell her…tell her that I would rather die of thirst than drink a glass of water poured by her hand.”
“She will not be happy to hear that, but I will tell her.”
“So what will happen now?” Phut asked.
“That is an interesting question, my young friend. You see, the king’s priests are unsure about which door the Gods would consider to be your true choice. Some of them believe that the Gods intervened to save your life by pacifying that tiger. They wish to see you blessed and married,” the first minister said before pausing to take a breath and then sitting down on a bench attached to the wall. “The rest of them think that the Gods view a man’s first choice as his most divine. Consequently, they wish to see you executed and do not seem to care whether your death comes by the tiger’s claw or one of their own.”
“Great. I am back to the beginning; a death I don’t deserve or a love I don’t want,” Phut said.
“Not necessarily,” the first minister said as he stood up, walked to the bars, and leaned in towards Phut. “I believe I have found a solution that satisfies the Gods and more importantly, the king. You will be brought back into the arena and placed before both doors once more. Behind one door will be the king’s personal ombudsman. Behind the other will be the king’s fool. The one you pick shall present your case before the king and his council. If the argument is persuasive, your second choice will be honored and you will be free. If the argument fails, the first choice shall be honored and you will die along with your advocate.”
“This is crazy. Why can’t I just be exiled? I’ll leave. I’ll never talk to Li a…”
“Princess Li,”
“I will never talk to her again. I don’t even want to any more. I will apologize to the king and then go," Phut said. "Just let me leave."
“The king demands an answer and you will be the one to provide it,” the minister said. “Justice cannot be found until you have made a decision of your free will. The king will not allow you, or me, to offend the Gods this way.”
“I am not going to choose,” he said as he stared at the minister and thought about how his eyes didn’t seem all that different from the tiger's. “This is insane. I played this game last time. I won’t do it again.”
“You-will-do-it,” the minister said enunciating every word. The diplomacy from his voice had disappeared. “If you do not, we will find a new tiger that is not too fat to eat a criminal.”
“I don’t care. Kill me. At least, it will be over.”
“Perhaps you misunderstand. This trial helps us to understand the Gods’ justice. A crime occurred and the offender must be judged. But, unlike, say a murder, inter-class socializing requires two offenders,” the minister said. “If you will not open a door, the other sinner will.” The minister stepped away from the bars and started to walk towards the exit.
“The king wouldn’t do that to his own daughter,” Phut yelled to the minister’s back. The minister stopped and turned his head.
“You do not know the king,” said the minister before turning around and exiting through the door.
Two days later, Phut found himself in the arena in front of the doors once more. He looked up at Li and saw the king and his advisers sitting next to her. She picked the tiger, Phut thought to himself as he looked at the doors. He had no idea which door contained the ombudsman and which contained the fool. Like last time, he could not make out any distinguishing mark.
Phut picked the door on the left this time. He had trusted the door on the right last time and that choice had brought him back into the arena. As he pulled the door open, Phut felt the tiger’s claws slash through his throat. As his blood soaked into the sand, the dying man looked up and saw the first minister smiling as he shook hands with the king's ombudsman. She picked the tiger...
Saturday, October 6, 2007
Pete - The Doors
Steph: "I would like you to write a short continuation of Stockton's story, not necessarily in Stockton's style, feel free to make it your own, of course. Perhaps reveal what happened when he opened the door, and where you think the story would go from there."
...
As is often the case with love, the heart can crowd the lines and tables of order that the mind places on the real affairs of life. Young lovers, caught up in the fire of their mutual passion often cast aside reason and pursue the flames of their desire, even though it may be obvious that this path leads to burning, and pain.
The Princess was in every way her father's daughter; equal measures of his barbaric charisma and also the semified expression of this, as well. As with all younger generations, she took more to the nature of the place, being born here, than her parents did.
So in her we have both powerful whim, and reason. Her passion in many ways unbounded, tempered by forethought. Shrewd enough to discover the answer to the doors' riddle, sly enough to gesture a choice.
As the depth of their love grew, she without question saw pain on the distant horizon. Being her father's daughter, she knew well that their love would never be allowed to bear fruit beyond the moment. Each interval of time they spent together was a gift, and with the passing days that gift grew more expensive; not a shade of doubt in her mind that at some point, the price would have to be paid.
Part of her would rage against this inevitability she saw; her father's fiery and barbaric nature broiling inside of her. Fury adding to the passion already stoked by forbiddance and taboo. No love burns as hotly as that which, by circumstance, clearly cannot survive. Reason may not be sufficient enough a mentor to dictate a lesson in avoidance.
But it can provide a plan for what part of the drama they could control; how it would end.
They could not help their love, though they knew it was destined to end in pain. They could not turn off the road once they'd started upon it. They knew every rendezvous was a gift from fate, and that in time fate would come calling. They could however control what would happen after that fateful moment.
The deliberately passionate people of the this kingdom knew risk and danger intimately; they understood from a very early age the definition of consequence. Today in softer times we rationalize our actions and seek to avoid the results, surprising or not. We turn blind eyes to our choices, and the pain they often lead to.
But the princess and her lover were not of this time. They entertained no illusions of living happily ever after.
...
She gestured to the right.
He looked to her and stepped right, according to their pact.
The most powerful calm he'd ever felt washed over him when he realized the fierce sound of the tiger was silence, next to the roar of his passion for her.
The crowd on their feet and agape as the man walked into the onslaught of sinew and fury, hands up and out as his sides as if to proclaim he had power over this choice, that it had been his to make, on purpose.
The splash of blood, the swiftness of the tiger's strike surprised no one but perhaps the king himself, as he watched.
The princess watched, too. She owed that and more to the lover she would see again, in time. She owned the pain.
...
This is the only possible outcome. She could not deceive him, her love. He could not love another after having known the heart of a princess.
Destiny had a place for lovers such as these; the price paid here and now solidifying that futurity. She would take a lover and continue the line of her father, her torment over time at least equal to his last moments.
True love is about rising beyond the boundaries of circumstance; about knowing the terrible price, and paying it, gladly. It
...
As is often the case with love, the heart can crowd the lines and tables of order that the mind places on the real affairs of life. Young lovers, caught up in the fire of their mutual passion often cast aside reason and pursue the flames of their desire, even though it may be obvious that this path leads to burning, and pain.
The Princess was in every way her father's daughter; equal measures of his barbaric charisma and also the semified expression of this, as well. As with all younger generations, she took more to the nature of the place, being born here, than her parents did.
So in her we have both powerful whim, and reason. Her passion in many ways unbounded, tempered by forethought. Shrewd enough to discover the answer to the doors' riddle, sly enough to gesture a choice.
As the depth of their love grew, she without question saw pain on the distant horizon. Being her father's daughter, she knew well that their love would never be allowed to bear fruit beyond the moment. Each interval of time they spent together was a gift, and with the passing days that gift grew more expensive; not a shade of doubt in her mind that at some point, the price would have to be paid.
Part of her would rage against this inevitability she saw; her father's fiery and barbaric nature broiling inside of her. Fury adding to the passion already stoked by forbiddance and taboo. No love burns as hotly as that which, by circumstance, clearly cannot survive. Reason may not be sufficient enough a mentor to dictate a lesson in avoidance.
But it can provide a plan for what part of the drama they could control; how it would end.
They could not help their love, though they knew it was destined to end in pain. They could not turn off the road once they'd started upon it. They knew every rendezvous was a gift from fate, and that in time fate would come calling. They could however control what would happen after that fateful moment.
The deliberately passionate people of the this kingdom knew risk and danger intimately; they understood from a very early age the definition of consequence. Today in softer times we rationalize our actions and seek to avoid the results, surprising or not. We turn blind eyes to our choices, and the pain they often lead to.
But the princess and her lover were not of this time. They entertained no illusions of living happily ever after.
...
She gestured to the right.
He looked to her and stepped right, according to their pact.
The most powerful calm he'd ever felt washed over him when he realized the fierce sound of the tiger was silence, next to the roar of his passion for her.
The crowd on their feet and agape as the man walked into the onslaught of sinew and fury, hands up and out as his sides as if to proclaim he had power over this choice, that it had been his to make, on purpose.
The splash of blood, the swiftness of the tiger's strike surprised no one but perhaps the king himself, as he watched.
The princess watched, too. She owed that and more to the lover she would see again, in time. She owned the pain.
...
This is the only possible outcome. She could not deceive him, her love. He could not love another after having known the heart of a princess.
Destiny had a place for lovers such as these; the price paid here and now solidifying that futurity. She would take a lover and continue the line of her father, her torment over time at least equal to his last moments.
True love is about rising beyond the boundaries of circumstance; about knowing the terrible price, and paying it, gladly. It
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)