Sleeping Beauty

It is late afternoon as a horse picks it's way through the overgrown
tangle of forest leading to a grey, stone castle. The last white knight
is arriving on the back of his horse. The last hope for the town, the
last hope for the ruling family. He stops and takes a map from the
inside pocket of his golden jacket. It is dark beneath the trees and he
squints, peering blearily at the names in red on the tattered piece of
paper. He has forgotten his glasses. In truth, it was vanity that
prevented him from packing them, which, as he thinks about it now, was
rather foolish. His marriage to the princess has been prearranged so
there should be no need for looking attractive. However, if the
princess turns out to be as ugly as a troll, the lack of spectacles
could be helpful. The map is awful, his mother has drawn it and her
memory is crumbling away much like the front wall of their palace. He
puts it back in his pocket and scans the forest for clues as to which
direction will lead him to the castle, or at the very least stop him
from being eaten by bears or wolves. A high-pitched chirruping
interrupts his thoughts as yet another hyperactive bluebird settles on
his shoulder. Where are they coming from? Shrugging his shoulder
grumpily, the knight unbalances the bluebird and it flies upwards,
spiralling towards the tops of the trees. As he watches it he catches
sight in the distance, above the treetops, of the roof of a grey, stone
tower. He nods to himself, gives his horse a gentle kick and it
continues to carefully pick its way through the forest.

In the grey stone tower, Helen sits waiting for the white knight to
arrive. She is so lazy that today is the first day she has gotten out
of bed for several years. She cannot see the point of doing anything
for herself when there are so many people in the castle, all paid by
her father to do everything for her, so she stays in bed, getting up
only to use the toilet or to look out of the window. She gets up and
wobbles her way towards the window in her new pink glass stilettos.
Helen has never worn a pair of shoes before, but she wanted to impress
her white knight, so today she is wearing shoes.
'He won't even notice your feet!' snapped her mother, the queen, as her
lady in waiting had put them on her that morning. He had bloody better
notice them she thinks to herself as she stands by the window feeling
indescribable amounts of pain coming from the balls and heels of her
feet. This shoe wearing business is not for the weak or feeble.
Steadying herself by leaning on the cool stone of the window ledge she
looks out across the acres of forest below. Where is he?

The doorbell rings. It is an enormous sound, filling the castle with
echoes of the metal chimes in the darkened hallway. Helen jumps up with
a start from her window ledge. He has arrived at last. She turns around
to go back and sit in her chair but unused to her shoes, her ankles
wobble violently and she falls clumsily to the floor hitting her head
on the stone slabs. She lays unmoving, blood trickling from her
skull.

Several servants greet the white knight at the door. The stable hand
takes his horse to the yard and gives it hay and water. Two others go
in search of the king and queen and Helen's lady in waiting curtseys
and leads the knight along a corridor towards the tower. She tells him
how Helen has been looking for him every day from her window. He asks
what the princess looks like and is relieved to hear that she is far
from the troll beast he was expecting and even has blonde hair, a
particular favourite of his on a woman.
'Is it true that she never gets out of bed?' he asks.
'Indeed, it is' replies the lady in waiting. 'My job is so boring. She
won't go anywhere. She hasn't left her room for sixteen years. That's
why her parents had to advertise her in the end.' They are climbing a
steep spiral staircase and as they near the top, he adjusts his jacket
and smoothes his hair. He had not expected to be nervous. They knock on
the large oak door at the top of the stairs, but there is no answer.
The lady in waiting pushes it open and goes inside. The white knight
waits on the landing shifting his feet and chewing the insides of his
cheeks. Maybe she has changed her mind. But the lady in waiting is
screaming and she appears at the door in tears.
'She's unconscious! She must have tripped in her new shoes' sobs the
poor young lady and she rushes back down the stairs to fetch the castle
doctor. The knight has had an abundance of first aid training and
rushes into the princess's room to see what he can do. She is still
lying on the floor and by now very cold. He covers her with a blanket
from her bed and stems the bleeding from her head using his own scarf.
She is beautiful, but obviously not graceful. Gently he pushes her hair
back off of her face and strokes her hand.
'You're going to be alright.' He soothes and is fighting the urge to
bend down and kiss her when the doctor arrives with her parents and
takes charge.

Helen wakes up in her bed. It is light outside and her head is aching
terribly. She touches the bandage and winces with pain.
'How are you feeling?' asks the knight from the chair at her
bedside.
'Sick' she moans and promptly is, all over the blankets. Her lady in
waiting cleans up, fussing and bustling around the bed.
'You've got concussion' she tells the princess, feeling her forehead
with one hand and tucking in a corner of sheet with the other. 'Don't
try to move, you have to rest for a while until you feel better.' And
then she gathers the bundle of soiled blankets and heads off down the
stairs to the laundry. The princess opens one eye and sees the knight.
She opens the other eye and frowns at him.
'Who are you and what are you doing in my bedroom?' she asks
croakily.
'I'm the last white knight, Steve. I arrived yesterday evening.' He
explains, slightly embarrassed by being in her bedroom alone with her
and uninvited.
'It was my new shoes' she says, 'I don't wear shoes usually because I
don't get out of bed.'
'They might have given you a nasty wound to the head but they're very
nice shoes' he reaches for her hand and strokes her fingers with his
thumb.
'Thanks' she looks down at their hands.
'Helen,' he starts nervously, 'would it be alright if I kissed you?'
she smiles, suddenly shy and blushes prettily.
'I'd like that' she says and he leans towards her pressing his lips to
her cheek.
'Maybe when we're married and you don't smell of vomit, I could kiss
you properly?' he asks.
'That would be very nice' she replies and closing her eyes, she passes
out.