Join in my daily writing prompt! I don’t promise to respond to them all myself, but will try my best! Here is my response to this prompt.
‘The whole family had been cursed ever since …’
She sat on the cold, filthy slabs of the prison floor, sulking her heart out.
None of it was her fault! It was all the wickedness of that woman. That woman who had stolen any sense from her grandfather and now look where that left them!
The woman stood tall, beautiful, shining dark hair, and skin the colour and smoothness of cream. Said to have been born of the ancients and steeped in their magic ways, she had decided in long days past that she knew it all, better than any of them, and therefore should be their queen. The actual queen, a powerful sorceress had, not unexpectedly, thought differently. Maleficent was cast out, beyond time, to a place and era where magic was unknown.
The maid knew from her history lessons, that the people Maleficent found herself among were strong, resilient, and did not take to being queened over by this tall stranger with her golden rod and flashing eyes.
That was, until the maid’s grandfather fell desperately in love with this striking woman, so different from the plump, rosy-cheeked girls of his village. Maleficent had encouraged his devotion. Over the years she coached him in what arts and knowledge he could store in his addled brain and, when she deemed him ready, sent him to the palace. Here he posed as a tutor to the young prince, a friend, a guide, a wise one … until the prince came of age and Maleficent’s stooge whispered words of rebellion and takeover in his willing, muddled ear.
But the wise king foiled their little plot and decreed the grandfather’s whole family to be cursed ever since that day.
The kitchen maid wept, loud and long, for her losses. Grandfather had promised her the prince as husband, post the revolution. Instead, she had been sent to kitchen duties where, in fits of outrage and frustration, she had attempted to poison said prince – and ended up, cursed indeed, awaiting execution – in a dungeon with mice-infested straw for her bed rather than the silk-draped, mahogany four-poster of her erstwhile dreams.
Find Cheryl’s flash fiction and short stories here!