Friday, May 24, 2013

Wrath Of The Deeps

Photo courtesy of  John Nyberg

She sat atop her stony plinth, every bit as immobile and imprisoned as the day the guards had placed her there. Her gaze was turned perpetually to the west, toward the open sea and freedom. It had been so very, very long now and she had all but abandoned hope she would ever see the wondrous beauty of her undersea home again. 

Her father was a stern and unforgiving monarch when challenged and quite unwilling to forgive trespasses lightly. She was forced to concede her punishment was, indeed, of her own making. She had been warned by her governess, by her tutors and, of course, by nearly every one of her peers that her overweening fascination with the Dirtsiders would prove to be her undoing.

Though she could appreciate their warnings were well-intentioned, it had not dissuaded her in the least. She had far more experience of these peculiar two-legged beings than any other resident of The Kingdom Below. Certainly, they could be an ugly and brutish folk but they were not all such flawed creatures. They had music and books and such delightful foods. They laughed and they danced and engaged in so many other activities thoroughly unknown to her people.

When, at length, her father grew tired of her insolence, he’d forbidden her to have any contact whatsoever with The World Above ever again. Though he’d not specified what the consequences of disobeying him might be, the severity of such was implied. Sadly, she had chosen to defy him just one last time and for that defiance she was still paying dearly.

As the sun sank beyond the horizon, a tear trickled down the princess’ basalt cheek. On this, her 317th birthday, she’d hoped her banishment to be at an end. Sadly, that single salty tear was all she would taste of the sea for yet another year.


This story was written for the Flash Friday Fiction flash fiction challenge photo prompt.

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