Short Stories

Once upon a time, there lived a beautiful princess called Vanya, whose heart was full of love, warmth, and mirth. She saw beauty in everything, she found laughter in the most unlikely places, and she loved with all that was in her.

This made the Sorceress hate her, so she disguised herself as a humble serving woman and came to Vanya as her nurse. While the princess danced and sang, the Sorceress began to whisper lies in her ear… Pouring them like honey-drops, one by one until she had convinced the princess that she was not beautiful, but ugly; that she was not full of love, but hateful; and that there was no joy to be found in life. And the princess grew cold and hard as ice.

And as each lie took root in Vanya's mind, the Sorceress transformed her from a princess, to a Rose: the fairest rose that had ever grown under the sun, with the sweetest scent that had ever been carried by the breeze. However, beautiful as the Rose was, she was covered with thorns so that no one could touch her without being pricked.

As time went by, many Gardeners watered the Rose and tended the earth around her to keep her as healthy as possible, but, while they lavished in her beauty and its sweet smell, they could not pick it from her stem.

From time, the Sorceress would return and she would tell the Rose that the Gardeners did not love her and would hate her if they knew what she really was. The Sorceress also told her, that if anyone plucked her from the stem, she would die; so the Rose grew even more thorns to keep herself safe.

Eventually, she was so overgrown with thorns, that they began to choke the blossom so that she was dying.

It happened, that a Prince came from far off on matters of state, and as he walked through the gardens of the palace, he saw the beautiful Rose, strangled by the thorns.

He said to the Gardeners: "Why is this Rose in such a state? Why have you let so many thorns choke it?"

The Gardeners replied: "Sir, we love that Rose as much as any plant in this garden and we have tended to the very best of our ability. But, though we have tried every way imaginable, we cannot reach it through the thorns."

The Prince was so captivated by the beauty of the Rose that he could not bear to watch her suffer so. Without word or thought, he reached out and closed his right hand over her stem, the thorns ripping through his flesh, and he pulled her away from her thorny cage.

He held the blossom beneath his nostrils, to drink the sweet fragrance, with his lips pressed against the silky petals, and his bleeding hand holding the stem tenderly. Even as he did, the petals became the soft, supple lips of a maid, and the stem, her neck As he felt the warmth of her breath, and her heart against his chest like a wild bird flapping its wings, he knew that she was worth a thousand right hands...Even his last breath.


Now, when the Sorceress looked into her magic mirror and saw Vanya in the arms of the Prince, fully restored and completely loved, she was filled with such a passionate rage that her blood-curdling howls caused the foundations of her tower to quake and her mirror to shatter into a thousand pieces. She paced her halls like a like a stalking tiger, searching for prey, until, at last, she contrived a plot to destroy the princess forever.

As the Prince and his princess sat in their garden, playing games and laughing together, the Sorceress sent a dark wind from a cloud that chilled the very blood withing Vanya's veins and, no matter how tightly he held her, the Prince could not warm her. When he looked into her eyes, he saw that the light had been stolen from them, that her heart was as it had been when she was a Rose.

"Sorceress!" he cried, drawing his sword and brandishing it toward the ever darkening sky. "I know you are there --show yourself and fight me!"

A sickening mist filled the garden, causing every flower to wilt. It swept over the grassy floor, leaving death upon everything it touched as it began to spiral upwards. It kept spiraling until, at last, the cold eyes of the Sorceress were now piercing him, and the mist dispersed, revealing her before him: tall and ominous.

"To what end would you fight me, O Prince?" she spat the words. "Your foul Vanya, your loathsome harlot, will certainly die unless she can destroy me."

"I can destroy you now." he declared hotly, holding his sword perpendicular to his breast-bone, preparing to run her through.

He charged at full strength, but, long after he expected to feel his blade sheath itself in her foul carcass, he felt himself jolted against the garden wall with such force it sent him falling upon his back. When he turned to look for her, he saw nothing: only his cold Vanya, kneeling by his side.

"There is only one place where such a thing can be done." said the voice of the Sorceress. "You must come to my tower...And it must be the princess who faces me."

So the Prince and Vanya crossed countless streams, rivers, and vast oceans. They climbed a thousands mountains and crossed as many lowlands. They traveled over deserts so hot, so dry that there seemed to be no end to them. Then, at last, on the darkest night, in the thickest wood, in the lowest valley, of the coldest land in all the world, they found the Sorceress' Evil Tower.

When they had come to the door of the tower, the Prince sighed, for his heart was heavy, and he took his sword from its sheath and placed it in Vanya's icy hands.

"Go." he said softly, "I will follow close behind. No doubt, the Sorceress will have many goblins for her guard."

"But how will you fight them with no sword?" Vanya asked.

He touched the drawstring of his bow, strapped across his back.

She nodded and turned to enter the tower, but he caught her arm and caused her to look at him once more.

"Come back to me." he entreated.

Vanya reached out her hand and touched his face, with eyes so soft and sad they could have broken hearts, but she said nothing. She turned and entered the tower, leaving the Prince at the entrance as the goblins emerged from the woods.



The goblins began to growl like dogs, grabbing at the earth with their taloned hands and feet as the slinked into the clearing. The air became foul (fouler, that is) with their stench, like rotting flesh, but the Prince stood firm and unwavering before them.

Almost without blinking, he took his bow from his back and pulled two arrows from the quiver. An instant later, there were two less beasts to be troubled with.

...

Vanya found no difficulty in rooting out the Sorceress; indeed, she stood proudly in the Great Hall of her tower, waiting coolly with an grimace, that was almost a smirk, playing at the corners of her mouth.

No words were spoken: no preamble to what was to come. The princess merely held the Prince's sword tightly in her trembling hands, steeling herself for this moment. Without flinching, or quaking, she lifted the hilt so the blade was perpendicular to her, ready to be strike.

The Sorceress laughed throatily, a laugh that would freeze the blood in your veins, and drew a black broadsword from within the folds of her robes. She descended upon Vanya so swiftly, with such strength that the girl barely had time or wit to retaliate.

Their skirmish was brief, consisting of only a few pointed blows on the princess' part, for the Sorceress' power was great and the princess' depleted by years of lies and heartache. At last, without any form of ceremony or acts of melodramatics, the Sorceress seized Vanya's sword by the blade, tearing it from her hands, and threw it across the hall, taking the princess by the throat with her free hand.

"Vanya, Vanya..." chuckled the Sorceress, "What did I tell you? Didn't I warn you it would come to this? --Did you really think you could be saved? Did you really think you could be loved?"

"Let her go!" shouted the Prince, bursting into the hall.

"It's over, Prince." the Sorceress taunted. "She has failed yet again." Even as she spoke, she released her hold on Vanya's throat and the princess fell into a heap on the floor: as still and as pale as death.

"NO!!!" screamed the Prince, running to his beloved and falling to his knees by her side. "No..." he wailed, scooping her limp form into his arms. "There must be some other way."

"There is," said the Sorceress, "but not even you would dare try it."

In a flash, the Prince was on his feet, staring cold and hard into the Sorceress' face.

"She is mine," he said thickly, "and I will claim my own."

"Then you must die in her stead." the Sorceress told him, her sneer undisguised upon her face.

"So be it." he answered evenly.

"Are you so sure?" she questioned. "Is the Princess really worth your life?"

"A thousand painful deaths would not be too much." he replied.

"As you wish!" roared the Sorceress and, all at once, she was transformed into a great dragon, with wings so broad that, if they were stretched, the would break through the walls of the tower and span across the entire perimeter of the clearing.

In an instant, she fell upon the Prince and devoured him.

The princess awoke, almost at that very moment, as one coming from a deep sleep, and lost to her were all memories of death. She called for the Prince, but heard no answer, only the deep pant of the dragon by her side.

When she turned her head and saw the monster before her, she scrambled across the room, grabbing for her sword, still, even as she stood with it in her hands, she saw a rippling in the dragon's belly. She knew instantly that it was her Prince and her heart despaired, but then, the movement became more pronounced and the dragon let out a terrible cry as something penetrated its scaly flesh from within.

The object continued moving down the torso as the screams increased and the beast fell to its side in agony. At last, the dragon lay dead and, from within the carcass, emerged Vanya's Prince with a dirk clasped in his hand.

Panting, he smiled and said, "I will be with you until the end of the age, my beloved."

And a smile, the first true smile Vanya had ever known, spread across her face as the light of old rekindled in her eyes, only this time her joy was renewed tenfold and her love deeper than it had ever been or ever would be.

Half-laughing, half-weeping with happiness, she ran into her Prince's arms.

Even as they stood there together, the darkness the Sorceress held over the land began to disperse and sun began to rise upon a world that had only known night for centuries. And, in the pure light of the rising sun, the Prince kissed Vanya before all the world and claimed her forever as his bride.

They returned together, to the Prince's land, and there they lived in peace, and love, and joy for all their days. The princess grew a garden of roses, without thorns to hurt and cut, and her heart was never again filled with sorrow or fear. The Prince gave her more than she could ever begin to repay, and he loved her more deeply than she could ever begin to understand, asking only for her heart in return.

The End