Like A Princess

The Sock.

“Violet, breakfast is ready. Don’t forget to make your bed,” a voice called up from below. A girl was standing at her windowsill, leaning against the cold stone. A sigh emitted from her lips as she heard her mother’s voice.

“Yes, Mother.”

She crossed over to her bed, carefully tucking in her sheets, fluffing her pillow and turning down the covers. She moved quickly around the room, picking up various things around her room and putting them in their respective places. Violet was already dressed, a simple skirt and blouse adorned her small frame. Her hair was neat, combed and freshly braided. She grabbed a pair of pantyhose and quickly slipped into them; she reached into a drawer and pulled out a pair of socks, rushing to go.

In her rush she did not notice that she had pulled out an extra sock, which had fallen to her clean floor. Grabbing her shoes, she rushed out of her room, descending into the kitchen. A tall, stark woman stood at the sink, scrubbing the stains away with steel wool. The woman glanced up as Violet crossed over to her and kissed her on the cheek. Her name was Marigold, but she was only addressed as ‘Mother’ by Violet, and Ms. Saunpite by everyone else.

“Good morning, Mother,” Violet said quietly.

“Good morning, Violet. Sit down and eat your breakfast before it gets cold,” she instructed, scrubbing away. Violet nodded and sat down, neatly folding a napkin in her lap and picking up her utensils. She cut and ate her food, with an air of grace and dignity. Her mother used to scold her about her table manners, ‘poor girls do not eat like they are royalty,’ she used to say to her, shaking her head.

Violet always hung her head in shame, but her manners stayed the same; it was a routine she could not suppress. Her mother had stopped nagging her about it, provided that she keep to herself and do her chores as instructed. Violet always complied, for she knew what would happen if she dared put a toe out of line.

“Is you room clean? Did you make your bed?” She asked sternly.

“Yes, Mother.”

“I surely hope so.”

Violet finished up her breakfast and placed the dish in the sink. “Would you like me to finish up the dishes, Mother? I have a few minutes before I’m to leave.”

“No, no, today is your birthday, you do not have to do the washing today,” Mother gave her a hard smile, one that did not reach her eyes.

“I must be off, Ms. Morgan is expecting me.” Violet put her shoes on and stood up.

“Yes, dear, go on, have a good day at school.”

Violet walked out the door and walked ten minutes to Amy Morgan’s house, the self-appointed school teacher for teen-aged girls. She taught literature, history, and anything else she could to broaden the minds of her students. Amy Morgan was brought up learning things other girls did not know and did not have the privilege of knowing. Her father was a wealthy man and wanted his daughter to know everything not only a lady should know, but any gentleman. Her school was more or less, a secret. Only the girls and their mothers knew what was going on under Ms. Morgan’s idyllic roof. Violet knocked three times on Ms. Morgan’s door which was quickly opened. She walked into the warm living room and sat down at her favourite spot and thus her day began.


Marigold walked up the stairs, into Violet’s room. She scanned it and noticed the sock on the floor. She slowly walked over to it, picked it up and left. She walked downstairs, out of the kitchen and onto the street, the sock clutched in her hand. Soon, she arrived at Amy Morgan’s door, throwing it open and walking in. She walked straight over to Violet.

“What is the meaning of this?” Mother shouted.

“I’m not sure, Mother. A sock?” Violet asked, picking it up.

“A sock? You stupid girl, it was on your floor! What did I tell you about leaving a mess in your room? Do you think that just because today is your birthday that you can dare leave a mess in my house?” Her voice rang, loud and clear. Violet was speechless.

“I’m, I’m sorry, Moth—,” Violet was interrupted by her mothers’ hand swiftly slapping her face. A loud smack echoed in the room. Violet sobbed, clutching her face.

“Shut up. We are going home. You are never to return here again,” she glared at Amy Morgan, as if it was her fault. The girls in the room stood in their places shocked. Ms. Morgan began to move but was stopped by Marigold’s glare. Mother grabbed Violet by her hair and dragged her out of her, Violet sobbing in her wake.
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