The Enslaved - Comments

@ discoveringclouds
Thanks, glad you found it funny. In your story I liked the idea of a princess who's just like a lot of people today, with a broken up family.

I'm tired of stories that create despair, and stories that try to clench my heart and squeeze it to bits. Of course a story with a moral, or that's true that is sad is fine, but a story just to make me sad is not going with me. But I'm here, and your others were nice so I'll read it!

I also wrote a sad story once, but it was based off of someone else's tale to show them imagery. :)

Why is the princess calling the dragon dear?

Lol, the democratic system! Your story ended up being kind of funny, leading to some truth, that after the feudal system and many aristocrats died the democratic principles began being fostered into governments. haha ;)

Anyways here's my story, tell me what you think.

This tale is laced with venomous tales, deceitful individuals and dreadful heartache. Read on at your own misery.

Had I come upon such a tale, I would throw it in the glass engraved waste bin by my side desk. Where many a sad tale, written by my own pen, have been cast aside.

There are those who long to be a maiden of royalty. A girl of high standard, dignified manners and fine gowns. However, as I warned, there are many horrors to this tale, and the princess I am is core to my hatred at times.

Not every princess lives the life I describe. Not every girl is as spiteful as I. Before my mother died I was a delicate angel of a girl, a shadow of a gem, the petals of a rose. However, her passing brought me to forests thoughts that children should never to along. Her last words tossed me in.

Her scaled ashen face, so golden and soft in life, glared at me on her final day.

"You are no princess. Not a feather as you should be." She had slithered.

My heart brittle as it was, shattered. Now I am a rough devil spirit, the light of a cobra's eyes, the thorns of that very rose.

So, reader, you may reconsider your glorious princess thoughts, for I give you this one chance. Now you shall be wise to recall that being a princess is not what you want.

Still tarrying I see. Sitting on the ledge of hope. Where is your gritting reality? Must I soak you with enough venom and truth to allow you to burn with me?

So be it.

You must be teetering on the thoughts that not every girl has a loving mother and that they could perhaps still grow on to be that prize dessert blossom. What then, silly reader, of the father who meandered out to see a mistress while his love-marriage wife melted into her cancerous bed. What of his indifference to that family he had with her? What of the cruel dry eyes that never blessed the world with even one tear?

And his hidden war, a war that he claims to be fighting.Truly nothing else but an attempt to disappear. Hiding from his wife, hiding from his son's self-death, hiding from me.

Aaa, I see you have begun to back off to the grove of understanding. However, keep your footing light for this is not where my story takes place. Down in the forest of reality is where you must be thrown in as well. Just as my dear Stefan was plunged a year back. Taking all the glues and sticky mixtures that a dear brother can have to mend his crushed and once loving sister's heart.

Now we may begin. Find ease in the shadows for the story now begins.