Hey everyone! I haven’t posted for a few days (?), so I decided to write an instant story!!! I sometimes just write a completely out of the blue story for my other blog because I feel like writing. I call them instant stories! So here is one, completely inspired by a random, made up title. Enjoy! (notice: Youtube and Pinterest stops may be made in the midst of writing this)
She was feared, hated, unloved lonely. For nothing. The Queen, they called her, The Queen of nothing but emptiness. This queen, though, was so much more special then they could ever imagine. And she had yet to prove that.The Queen, you see, was no evil woman. She was a girl. A poor, starved, homeless girl.
Mac sat on the side of the road. Her long, dark hair was pulled up in a poofy, tangled bun. Her big green eyes were wide with what seemed like constant shock, though that was how they always were. Her copper skin was dirty, and the same with her tattered burlap dress. She wasn’t incredibly gorgeous, but she was a fairly pretty girl.
She traced words into the sand she sat open, It was the same phrase over and over again. I am a queen, I am a queen, I am a queen. Her thoughts echoed the words, as well. It had become a silent song to herself. She began to hum a little tune to herself, and she soon began to whisper the lyrics.
Her mouth shut closed, blocking off the melody that was coming out, and her head rose to see a small group of three boys above her. She said nothing to them, but instead went back to writing her chant on the ground. This time she began to quietly mutter the words so the boys could hear her.
The boys laughed. “Still believe your a queen, huh, your majesty?” One taunted. the boys laughed again.
Mac’s chant changed. She then began to write “they are stupid”. Another boy crouched down and read it silently to himself. It took a surprisingly long time, despite the shortness of it. Either he didn’t know how to read, or he was thinking about how true it was. He straightened up and chortled, “I know who the stupid one is here, and it’s not us.” The boys thought this hysterical, and they burst into more fits of laughter.
Mac stood. The boys’ giggles and snorts slowly dissipated. “I am a queen,” said Mac, “and one day you’ll regret every word you ever said to me.” She then turned and walked down the road, her feet kicking up the words she wrote into small clouds of dust. The boys laughter haunted her behind her back, but all she noticed was how immature and annoying they were. She took a deep breath in, and anyone who saw her walk down that road would have to admit she walked like a real queen would.
“Mama, can I count the stars?” A younger Mac asked her mother.
Her mother smiled. “Darling, you can do anything if you put your mind to it.”
Mac’s brow furrowed and she formed another comment, “But there are so many!”
“Sweat pea,” Her mother replied, “They stop somewhere. Nothing lasts forever.”
That was one phrase Mac wished was wrong.
Mac gazed at the sky. She glared at them as if they had done something unforgivable to her. “Stupid stars,” she muttered, “No, no one can count them. Especially not me.”
She stood up and brush any sand off of herself. Her eyes started to the small castle on the horizon. The small kingdom of Hindmith had stood for years. The peasants no longer seemed poor, and the aristocrats no longer seemed rich.
Mac sighed and pulled her knees to her chest. A single tear leaked down her cheek as she pulled a small piece of tattered paper from her pocket. It was a drawing, a child’s drawing, of the stars. Mac screamed and threw the drawing as far as it would go.(I got a bit distracted by Pinterest at this point) She stood up jerkily and stomped on the paper until it was torn and dirtier than anything else near Mac.
“I was a queen!” She shouted into the open to no one in particular. “I AM a queen! And you are all to foolish to realize it!”
Mac’s mother died the next night. Mac laid in her bed all night sobbing ’till her eyes were red and puffy. Her mother, the queen, was dead, and nothing could be done about it. Which put one large responsibility on Mac’s shoulders. Mac was now queen, and she would rule the strongest kingdom in the world.
A crow to kill
A boy to love
A broken will
A dove high above
A person here
A world that matters
A king to bear
A queen that shatters.
The verse ended, and Mac sighed. She then repeated it, and again, and again. Finally she stopped. Her path she was walking on led to the castle. She walked up to the doors and motioned to the guards to open it.
“I’m sorry, girl,” One of the guards said,” It’s not open to peasants.” He smirked.
Mac scowled and retorted, “I am not a peasant, and you know that perfectly well, Clavier.“
The guard’s eyes widened in surprise. He then turned and motioned to the tower near the gate to open up the metal bars. The gate creaked painfully as it slowly opened. “Oil those hinges,” Mac ordered as she walked through the opening. As she went she could feel the guards eyes bore into the back of her head.
She threw wide open the front hall doors and walked in like she owned the place, which she did. Eyes followed her as she walked right into the throne room and sat on the ruler’s throne. She turned and said to man dressed in fancy, expensive, and very lavish clothes and threw the tattered drawing she had stomped upon so vigorously. “I’m back,” she said, “Now get out.”
The man studied the drawing skeptically, though as he studied it more his eyebrows sluggishly creeped higher. His head jerked up and faced Mac. He asked, “Where’d you get this?”
Mac narrowed her eyes at him, “I made it, fool. Now get out of my palace.”
She then pulled out her bun and let her heavy hair hang loosely. She brushed her fingers through it.
The regent’s face seemed to grow paler as every moment passed. He then bowed and said, “Forgive me, Queen Melec. I did not recognize you for the moment.”
Mac’s feature’s softened, though one eyebrow raised, “I can tell, Regent Squettle. Don’t call me that and go back to your mansion. I will send you a message if I ever need you, though I doubt I will.”
The regent nodded, and hurriedly scurried out of the throne room as fast as his legs could take him.
Mac smiled regally. It was nice to be in her palace, her throne, her home.
“Marissa!” She called.
An old lady scurried to the throne. “Your majesty, you’re back! Where have you been all this time! Oh! What would you like- er forgive my manners, my queen!” The maid huffed out,
“Call a kingdom gathering,” Mac said, “I would like to speak to my people, for my mind has healed much over time.”
I hope y’all enjoyed! It wasn’t very good, as it wasn’t planned at all. Bye!
P.S. Ignore any grammatical errors int he post. I was typing faster than usual.