Writing Challenge

Time to write!
Cute friends! Look at me writing again like a beautiful writer person! I am starting the new thirty day writing challenge! BUT GUESS WHAT?!? I'm going to finish it by the end of Christmas Break! So we're doing more than a day. BAHAHAHA. I've been at work too long. I'm a little crazy. Ready? Here we go. Enjoy.

Day 1: Rewrite a classic fairytale
How funny is this? My actual first submission was a twist on Cinderella. Oh good times. Here we go.

My life was never all that interesting. Being prince of a large, prosperous city wasn't good for much when there were no dragons to slay and no fair princesses to court. The only real joy I found in life (much like Princess Buttercup) was going for long rides on my horse. I often rode through the woods, not so much because I enjoyed the trees, but more because I knew my mother wouldn't follow me in there.

Now don't go jumping to conclusions. It isn't that I don't love my mother. I do. I do. She can just be a bit overbearing at times. She is always reminding me of my princely duties. This is fair enough, she's trying to be a good queen. This is more than can be said of the Queen of our neighboring kingdom. The woman is completely self-obsessed, to the point of sacrificing all her kingdom's resources to her vanity. To tell you the truth, I think war may be imminent. This is another reason I so enjoy riding in the forest. It takes my mind off the war counsels and strategy meetings which are constantly taking place in the castle.

So, I suppose my assertion that life wasn't interesting isn't completely fair. Someone else might find it entirely engaging, but I for one was disenchanted with the idea of going to war with our only neighbor. When things truly became worthy of note was the day that I stumbled upon the cabin in the woods. It was a strange little hut, but what was truly odd about it was the music coming from within. The sound was captivating, intoxicating, mind-boggling. It was a girl singing, but the sound was almost unearthly, like the songs of the fairies.

Jumping off my horse, I crept to the window. Through the pane I saw a beautiful girl. She had dark hair and extremely pale skin. I realized I'd seen that raven hair and that milky complexion before. We'd met at a ball hosted by her father three years previous, before he had suffered a rather untimely heart attack and passed away. This was the missing princess.

There was trouble afoot and I was going to put an end to it!

Running back to my horse, I jumped on and rode hard towards home.

"Father!" I cried, running into the throne room, where my father, King Alboo, sat at counsel with Sir Trickle and Sir Fickle, twins and brilliant strategists.

"Is this important, son?" my father's eyes were tired and wary.

"Yes!" I exclaimed. "I've found Snow White!"

My father harrumphed. "Harrumph? Snow White is dead."

"That's what we thought, yes! But I just returned from my daily horse ride, and she was there! She's in this cottage in the woods, very much alive!"

I'd like to say my father believed me. I'd also like to say that I gained the ability to fly. That's always something I've wanted to do. Of course, I couldn't suddenly fly, nor did my father believe my tale. But I knew what I'd seen. Snow White was alive and she was in that house.

Now I could take the time to tell you all the plans I made. The maps I drew. The buttons I lost. But let's make a long story short by concluding that...I was too late.

The next week I rode into the forest, gallant and shining as any knight in armor could be, arriving at the cottage where I'd heard Snow White sing. The cottage was just as I remembered it, but this time there was no music. I jumped off my horse and ran to the window. The house was empty. What had transpired?!
I was about to leave in despair when the sound of moaning caught my attention. I followed the sound to the back of the house where seven dwarves sat around a glass coffin, weeping, moaning, and wailing.

"Excuse me," I said in as princely a manner I could muster. "What causes you such mourning good dwarves?"

"Look in the coffin you dummy!" grumbled one rather grumpily.

As my eyes fell upon the unfortunate casket  I beheld her. Snow White. Dead, after all.

"MURDERERS!" I shouted, my voice ringing with bravado to match the shine on my sword which I of course drew flamboyantly from the scabbard.

A nearby dwarf sneezed in fright.

"No!" stammered another shyly. "We didn't kill her. It was...the queen."

"I knew it," I hissed, sheathing my sword and glaring at the ground in disgust.

The dwarves begged me to fix it, to somehow reverse time, or undo the spell that had done Snow White in. But it was to no avail. The one called Doc insisted there was a remedy.

"Kiss her," he said. "True love will awaken her."

"Unfortunately," I said, trying to remain charming. "I have a policy against kissing dead people. I find it unhygienic and frankly the smell is a little hard to get past. And besides. I'm not her true love. I met her once, three years ago. There were possibilities, but, you know, nothing's sealed the deal just as yet."

With that I bowed, informed the dwarves that I would love to be of service but really, this wasn't my area of expertise, and returned to my horse.

Like I said. My life's never been too exciting. Maybe it would be if I took some risks. But once more, like I said. If the risk involves a smell, then it's just not worth it.