No Ordinary Once Upon a Time

Reads: 208  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 2

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a story about a girl who lives sometime in the past in a world of destruction. It's sometime in the early years of no technology. It's a romance, and being the heartless romantic I am, I couldn't help but give it a sad ending. Bring a box of tissues!

Submitted: June 02, 2008

A A A | A A A

Submitted: June 02, 2008

A A A

A A A


Once upon a time, there was a cruel and evil king. With those simple wrds, "Once Upon a Time" I've turned what could have been a thriller, or scifi, or horror into a rather cliché beginning for such a non-cliché story, but it will have to do. Anyway, perhaps the masses reading this must be thinking, if he’s such a bad king, why don’t the villagers revolt and be done with him? Well, if one were to ask them, they will guiltily admit that they chose him. They thought he was a good man. They thought he wouldn’t go insane under power. They thought that he wouldn't have a daughter whom he would teach his evil trade. They also thought he wouldn't die and leave them to suffer under her cruelty because they thought wrong. With a vivid enough imagination, one could just envision the counsel, all ten, not including the king,  irritatingly happy to prove their point because they tried to deny those same commoners power and failed; only to have them elect a tyrant the very next year. But the villagers and people themselves could gather none such looks. There’s no council to give them... They were all dead. As you can see, this is no ordinary once upon a time story, so don't sit patiently, expecting some sort a happily ever after, for you may never get it, and might sit there for eternity.
 ~#~___________~#~ 
I’m Cirqué. I’m not a soldier. I'm not a boy. I’m not of age, only being sixteen. My mother sits in her bed pretending to be sick, when really she’s waiting to die. Because even though she thinks I don’t know it, I do. I know she thinks such wretched thoughts.But we're not going to die. This dreadful war has taken too much from us. A father, many uncles, an older sister and six brothers too many are all either encased in the dirt underground or lain in some forsaken, unreachable field that’s only accessible in my horror-filled dreams.
 
I was not in the village when they came. I was in the field, gathering the food from the Sacred Orchard for my mother’s sickness. When I came home, the only thing left in my village was smoldering flames and smoke enough to choke out the sky, my lungs, and large, dirty streaks of salt-water tears from my eyes. I almost ran to where my mother had been, but I did not, I comforting myself with the hope that the Princess's men wouldn't be so cruel. Searching through the rubble, I came across the one thing that made me feel like none of this was real. My ring. My father had given it to me before he left, and each one of my siblings and relatives kissed it before they joined the troops to never be seen again. It symbolized so much pain. The  sickening stench of burning hair and flesh hit me, and I was brought back to the devastation. I heard a rusty cough from the direction of the bed, my mother's charred hand lying limply beside her. I began to sob aloud. This was cruelty in its prime, and I couldn't dare watch. That rusty cpugh was my mother's.
"Cirqué..." She held out her burned hand, wincing. "Take it..." She pushed aside the now blackened blanket, making me wince as she revealed more charred flesh. I pushed the blanket back over her. I didn't want to see this small, broken form that was now my mother. She moved my hand and pushed the blanket farther. My father's sword gleamed. It had been untouched by the destruction surrounding it. "I love you," she wheezed, and I stood, strapping the sheathed sword to my back. I had to be strong for what was to come. Ihad to be strong for her and what was to come. I love you too, I wanted to say, but I didn't look behind me. She delicately took my hand, and kissed the ring on it, her way of saying that she knew that she was not coming back. I bowed my head and pulled my hand away. "Hold me, Cirqué," she whispered. I couldn't. I walked away.  
~#~__________________~#~
I was walking in the woods, following the group of soldiers that had taken so much from me. I felt an angry sadness creep over me, and I wanted revenge so badly it hurt. I reflected on the burnt sacrifice of a mother that I had not held in my arms during her last moments. I slid the sword out of its sheath slowly, carefully. I had practiced hard, watching the soldiers as they practiced their daily drill routine, almost obsessively stalking them to learn their every move and put my own flair to each one of them. It was finally time. I snuck out in the dead of night with one motive. Revenge. I sat in my hiding spot, twirling the ring absent-mindedly. I finally got enough courage, so by the time the soldiers looked up to see who their noisy intruder was, I had already fought halfway though the campsite. I was not capable of causing death...but there were many bruises, many concussions, and many painful breaks of noses or jaws. It was not until I had successfully fooled the camp into thinking there was some type of ambush, that I realised I had nothing to do afterward. Start a house? A business? A family? Just the thought of starting a family left my cheeks in flames, but I shook the thoughts away, telling myself to stay in the present. But, I had caused a retreat, and hopefully, the beginnings of a revolution.
 ~#~____________________~#~
His name was Marsden Crew. I had met him in one of the last unburnt above-ground villages on her land. Princess Olivia's land. He was passing through, as I was, and he had something I hadn't: a form of transportation, or in other words, a horse. I sneakily imprinted myself with him for two reasons: transportation and protection, for although it wasn't too safe to be a man on the roads, to be a girl on them was just suicide. He was apparently trying to reach the border to escape into the kingdom nearby. We traveled for a few days, getting more comfortable. The third night, it was cold. The night froze me down to the bones. I failed multiple times in trying to make a fire. Marsden laughed.
 
"Maybe I should try," he carefully moved the flint from my hands. For a brief moment, his hand touched mine, and either he had been gathering static electricity for his whole life, or the spark I felt when his hand grazed mine was unbelievably real and wonderful. There was a deep silence and we looked at each other, right in the eyes. I noticed him leaning forward slightly. So I turned away, subtly bringing back the light hearted, jovially friendly mood.
 
"Masochist," I muttered half under my breath, but loud enough for him to hear. He laughed.
 
"I'll teach you so that you can go back to your feminist ways," he got up, leaving me sitting, bewildered and exhilarated, on the ground. We set up our few items on opposite sides of the camp. As I sat down near the roaring fire on my side, he sat on his and we stared at each other over the fire with blazing eyes. His stark blue eyes openly gazing into my plain brown ones, conveyed some hidden emotion over the flames between us. Later, he arrived on my side of the camp site for our "lesson". 
 
"Now," he instructed, "Show me your fire starting pose." With eyebrows raised, I picked up some twigs and pretending one was flint and the other stone, crouched to my knees. He shook his head almost instantly. Bending over me, he carefully placed his warm hands over mine. I was surprised. How could someone have such warm hands on such a cold night? I looked over at him, and he at me, electricity once again traveling in its jagged path up my arms and warming my heart, which had been chilled since my mother's death. That night, I learned how to build a physical flame, and how quickly a heart could soften. We traveled for thirty-two days and the uncomfortableness of sitting upon that horse was getting to concentrated levels of pain. We finally stopped. I had lost much weight and gained much trust since my old village. Living off of the few items that I could gather was not an easy task. Luckily, the night before, I had remembered to fill our canteens, and whether or not we had food to eat was not a matter of life and death. Marsden grabbed the canteens. He put a whitish powder in his. To keep his blood thick, he said. I believed him. Somehow, I trusted him with my life and some pieces of my heart I couldn't get back, for every time I tried to recapture them, it only took a glance and a smile from a certain blue eyed companion of mine to send me spiraling away on a cloud of emotion.
 
"Want some?" I nodded.
 
"Sure," he gave me his. He didn't put anything in the water he was now drinking. I didn't care. I would drink anything if I knew I would end up closer to him. Before I sipped my drink, something came over me as I watched him gulping his water thirstily. Suddenly, I blurted out, "Are you courting anyone?" He spit out his water suddenly.
 
"Um..uh...no. I'm only eighteen." I must have looked surprised because heasked, "Why? Do you?" He cared to know... 
 
"Some one as...I mean, I would have figured...I mean, you're so...No. I'm not being courted." He looked relieved and then shook himself. He turned his attention back to his water and sipped the last few drops up. I was about to drink mine when he grasped my wrist.
 
"Just because you drank all of yours doesn't mean I have to share." I drank some of the water. How could I not notice that he didn't put any powder in his canteen? How could I not notice how remarkably fast I had fallen asleep, or how exhausted I felt after drinking the water? And how could I not notice how remarkably close we were getting to the tyrant and his princess's castle?  
~#~____________________~#~
Perhaps I did not notice before, but I certainly did afterward. I was locked in a chamber, my wrists chained above me. I opened my eyes drowsily, and closed them quickly to escape the sight of the fact that my only inmates were bones of the past. Then, I became frantic. Marsden! Was he behind this, or was he captured too? The door slowly clanked open. Marsden strode in wearing a somewhat self-absorbed look on his face. Well that answers that question, I thought.
 
"Marsden," I said. "Now that's is suitable name for a traitor."
 
"Hello, Cirqué. It seems you've caused a miniature revolution." My heart throbbed happily at my success, and I couldn't help but to give a cheeky grin. "Ah, ah, ah. Don't grin too quickly, for it is a  charge that is the equivalent of government betrayal. Who are you working for?"
 
"I'll never tell," I growled, even though I worked alone. I couldn't believe I was showing these emotions from a person I had felt so much for. I felt betrayed. Hurt. Angry. He shrugged.
 
"Not very smart. I expected more of you, Miss Cirqué. I truly did." Was I imagining it or was there something that betrayed his nonchalance? I bowed my head. How pathetic. I was still infatuated with him. Because that's what it was: infatuation. He walked away. The rusty door squealed open and he paused before leaving. "And my name is James."
 ~#~____________________~#~ 
Days passed and I was questioned everyday with the same ending: Who was I working for? The same response: No one. If I was feeling sassy, I'd say that I'd never tell. Then the torturer came. Finally, that fateful day arrived. James entered with his superior, Princess Olivia herself. She was strikingly beautiful, and I hated her instantly. The Princess spoke in a delicate musical voice. I was jealous.
 
"My idiot captains have told me of a problematic prisoner. They tell me you will not break," she mused conversationally as though we were at a party and she were telling me how nice my gown was. She sent a look of appeal to James, who blushed deeply. My face turned red with fierce anger. She pulled out a small dagger from the folds of her dress and held it to my neck. "I will ask you once and one time only," she said with slit eyes. "Who do you work for?" I answered the same, undaunted.
 
"No one. I work alone." Fury began to creep over the Princess's  pleasant features as I sent a look of disgust to James, who blushed even deeper, this time with shame. "Your 'idiot captain' stayed with me long enough for some sort of knowledge of what I like. He obviously missed the lesson on betrayal." The Princess turned her fury to James.
 
"What is she talking about?" James looked nervous and, not waiting for an answer, Olivia turned on her heels and strode closer to me. "I don't know what your talking about, but James is courting me." She and smiled. "He wouldn't be unfaithful. James never looked so surprised, but I figured he was lying. I sent a look of jealous fury, strong enough to fry a person's soul, to poor James who was being hopelessly abused with our eyes.
 
"Not courting anyone yet, huh," I growled in a low voice packed with fury. He winced.
 
"Unlock her," Olivia ordered. James called the dog with the keys. Rubbing my sore wrists, I did not notice Olivia's furious slaps until they were raining down upon me. Hell hath no fury as a woman scorned, my father used to say. I was tired of being beat upon. I grabbed her wrists and looked up at her stark gray eyes.
 
"Listen to me! I -slap- am -slap- not -slap- working -slap- for -slap- anyone -slapslapslap- !!! GOT IT???" She nodded, whimpering. I was about to walk out of there and escape, when Olivia in all her cowardice, commanded James one last time.
 
"Kill her!" James closed the door and strode toward me. I begged him earnestly with my eyes.
 
"James...Marsden...whoever you are inside...don't do this..." He held out his sword. I closed my eyes. "I understand." I waited for the blow. But, then, I had a wild idea. I ran up to James and touched his hand. That jolt, so familiar was instantaneous, but slight. Our love had almost died. Because that's what it was: Love. "I know you have to do this...so, as my way of saying goodbye..." I reached up and touched his cheek. "I love you." Then, I stood on my toes, and gave him a kiss on the lips. It was filled with sadness and goodbyes, knowing that this would be my only kiss. He hugged me after our lips had parted. His sword had already made its descent to the ground. We made plans to leave. We had banked on hordes of soldiers chasing us. We banked on being exiled from the country for eternity. We even banked on...starting a family together. But we didn't count on on Olivia's dagger being thrown right into my back, near my heart. And we couldn't imagine me dying. I gasped when I felt the sharp point enter me. I was still in James' arms. I breathed a deep breath, looking up at James' bewildered, panic-stricken face. I knew it was happening. That I was dying. James began to cry over me. "I love you, too," he cried. His tears touched me in a deep hearted place. I tried smile, but it was so painful. I winced instead. I felt myself slipping. I had to tell him. I had to tell him that I... I took a deep, difficult breath. "I...I forgive you, James." I smiled up at him. With difficulty, I pulled off my ring and kissed it. Then, I placed it on his ring finger. "My promise." I struggled to form my last lucid thought and failed. I closed my eyes knowing I wouldn't never open them again.
~#~____________________~#~
James lay Cirqué's body on the ground gently and looked at Olivia, who was still on the ground pitifully. She stood. James stared angrily. Why should she live when he had to suffer life without... His eyes were filled with tears and he picked up his sword. Olivia flinched. And opened her eyes to see the blade stopped within an inch of her skin. Tears streaming down James face, he dropped the sword. A sob escaped and he pushed Olivia to the wall and chained her hands up. Olivia laughed. He knew what she was thinking. If she couldn't have him, no one could. "You don't deserve to live," he snarled tearfully. Then, he picked up Cirqué's body without looking behind him at the newly imprisoned princess and the bones of prisoners of the past behind him. He closed the door, and so much more, on them forever. That room was the end of a great love... If the walls could talk, they would cry endlessly. For here in their land of 'once upon a time', there was no happily ever after.


© Copyright 2017 ForgottenKisses. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

Comments

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply