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Faerie Tale

There once was a king. An ageless king, as all should be. His kingdom vast, his people happy, he was a good ruler. He'd learned how to rule from his father, who had learned it from his father, who had learned it from his. His mother taught him his principals, good values. Just as his father had learned from his mother. He had the bluest eyes in the region, and just by looking into them, you knew he was someone you could trust. His hair was a fair brown corn silk, skin fair, with light freckles that dotted the bridge of his nose. He was a very noble and valiant ruler. But one day, out king met a girl. If you could call her even that. Some say she was a witch, some say she was a faerie. She was a woman; a gypsy from a traveling group. And this girl, woman, gypsy, she bewitched our fair king. She spun him tales from silk, and kept his lips bound with the thread. The kingdom didn’t change much during this time. The people stayed happy, the land didn’t change. But one day, she left, and the kingdom did change then. Out to sea was where she went, promising her king her return. So the king waited. And all he did was wait. The flesh of his people slowly turned to bone. The castles fell to oceans, mountains, and winds. His crown atop his head, and the sword at his waist turned to rust. Soon, it was just him left, waiting atop his throne. Vines grew, snow fell. He waited. He waited, and waited until he didn’t even know what he was waiting for anymore. His mind became blank, his body numb. Years passed. It was a wonder that he didn’t pass too. He woke up one day. From his trench. He went to the beach, looking. Several days down the coast, he found her body. His enchantress had returned.


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