The sleeping prince

Thea walked through the cold and empty hallways on her way to her charge, her

unsteady walk and glazed eyes revealing a certain enduring ache she had started

to become familiar with.

She carried a vase of wildflowers, a dustpan, and a weathered book to the only

place she felt safe. There, amongst the sleeping dead. As she arrived at a heavy

wooden door on the third floor, she lifted the door slightly as she opened it so as

not to allow the door to make the growling screech it had started to make in the

past few months and entered.

She walked to the dresser and replaced the long-wilted flowers on top, glancing

with disappointment at her reflection in the oval burnished mirror. She looked at

the young girl that stared back at her, her pale skin and heavy shadows under her

eyes contrasting her delicate straight nose and small lips, making her look tired

and haggard.

She scrunched up her face and closed her eyes to listen to the aged silence she

had grown so fond of. Feeling the slow, even breathing coming from the bed

behind her, calming her down. Here, only here, could she stop thinking about the

pain, the humiliation, and that man.

She didn't know how long had gone by before she felt her heartbeat slow down

and a small part of the crushing tension leave her body. She slowly opened her

eyes as she loosened the grip on the only book she owned, and as she relaxed her

eyesight, she saw something that tightened her entire body all over again;

Movement.

For the first time in all the years she had been in this house and the hundreds of

times she had been in this room, something other than her moved. She looked at

the corner of the reflection and saw that sleeping figure move behind her. It was

impossible, something everyone knew would never happen, and yet, the sleeping

prince, the soulless dreamer that had not moved for over nine years, started to

rise. Slowly, eerily, the youth started to rise on the bed.

Thea started to turn, terrified, horrified, and amazed, staring as the thin, frail

creature rose ever so slowly to a sitting position, his white hair cascading to reveal

small, pointed ears and the ethereal features of the face behind the hair.

Slowly, against the backdrop of the soft afternoon light that filtered through the

large window, the elfin youth straightened and opened his eyes, revealing bright

orange irises with unfocused pupils.

The sleeping prince that had slumbered for nearly a decade tilted his head and

looked upwards, breathed in deeply, and as a tear slid down his almost

transparent cheek, opened his mouth, and screamed.