Status: While this story is technically completed, I was hesitant to label it 'finished', so it may be under editing in the future.
Hopeless Romantic
Melancholy
When I arrived at the palace, I could barely contain my excitement, but I knew I must for a little while more. Fortunately, I had a good sort of composure. So when all the palace attendants were gathered together, I didn't make anything of it. I was about to go to my room when I was summoned to the court. Still, I didn't make anything of it. But it's when I saw my father's face drawn and demented looking that I started to worry. He was always composed. Sometimes cold, but never haggard as it looked now. I heard murmurs of, 'there she is', 'poor baby', 'I couldn't imagine', 'melancholy, that's what it was', and now I really started to worry. Had I been found out so close to the end? I was about to panic when my father spoke. "Gwendolyn." His voice was a well of sadness, a well of despair, yet detached from common emotions. He sounded like a reanimated corpse. "Your mother..."
"What happened to her?" I demanded frightfully, almost shouting. "What happened! Is she alright?"
He sighed. " She...she's gone."
"What?" I gaped. No. But what struck such a chord of terror in me is that I had seen it coming. She had never been a mentally stable woman. She had often looked uopn the world with sadness, and had indeed suffered with what the doctors called "Melancholy". Such an awful word, the word I had lost my mother to. She had never been fully there, but she was a good person deep down. She had often looked on me with love, sometimes even devotion, as I was her only child, but no more. She was, indeed, gone.
~~O~~
The funeral was as lavish as you could ask for, and many tears were shed. Several people came to me and said their condolences. I heard them all with all the composure I could muster. Many tears were shed, as she was quietly kind to all the villagers. She hadn't said much to them, but she helped them when they needed it the most. She used to help the poor with donations of food and clothes, and did not shun them like so many people of the palace wanted her to do. But my father, the one it had hit perhaps the hardest, was perfectly composed and silent. When people came to talk to him, he waved them away. And when they laid her in the earth in an ornate coffin, he looked down, but no tears.
He never cried. Not once.
I locked myself in my room for a while, supposedly to mourn, but in reality, I was packing. My father had always been more than a little cold to me, never having wanted a daughter. He had even told several people that I was a mistake, and wanted my mother to give me up as soon as I was born. She fiercely disagreed, and that was one of the few fights they'd ever had. So I would not miss him. My mother and some friends had been the thing keeping me here. But my friends would understand. I would leave a message. Now there was no reason to stay. Yes, it made me unhappy that I was thinking of my life when my mom had none. But I could not stay here with all these memories. I would heal, after a while. I had to think long-term about my life, my new love. My life, renewed.
I wrote a brief message and hid it under my papers. They would find it if they really wanted to. It did not disclose our debated location, merely said that I was running away with my lover, and to not come looking for me. For the first time in my life, I was alive as never before.
"What happened to her?" I demanded frightfully, almost shouting. "What happened! Is she alright?"
He sighed. " She...she's gone."
"What?" I gaped. No. But what struck such a chord of terror in me is that I had seen it coming. She had never been a mentally stable woman. She had often looked uopn the world with sadness, and had indeed suffered with what the doctors called "Melancholy". Such an awful word, the word I had lost my mother to. She had never been fully there, but she was a good person deep down. She had often looked on me with love, sometimes even devotion, as I was her only child, but no more. She was, indeed, gone.
~~O~~
The funeral was as lavish as you could ask for, and many tears were shed. Several people came to me and said their condolences. I heard them all with all the composure I could muster. Many tears were shed, as she was quietly kind to all the villagers. She hadn't said much to them, but she helped them when they needed it the most. She used to help the poor with donations of food and clothes, and did not shun them like so many people of the palace wanted her to do. But my father, the one it had hit perhaps the hardest, was perfectly composed and silent. When people came to talk to him, he waved them away. And when they laid her in the earth in an ornate coffin, he looked down, but no tears.
He never cried. Not once.
I locked myself in my room for a while, supposedly to mourn, but in reality, I was packing. My father had always been more than a little cold to me, never having wanted a daughter. He had even told several people that I was a mistake, and wanted my mother to give me up as soon as I was born. She fiercely disagreed, and that was one of the few fights they'd ever had. So I would not miss him. My mother and some friends had been the thing keeping me here. But my friends would understand. I would leave a message. Now there was no reason to stay. Yes, it made me unhappy that I was thinking of my life when my mom had none. But I could not stay here with all these memories. I would heal, after a while. I had to think long-term about my life, my new love. My life, renewed.
I wrote a brief message and hid it under my papers. They would find it if they really wanted to. It did not disclose our debated location, merely said that I was running away with my lover, and to not come looking for me. For the first time in my life, I was alive as never before.