The Blocked Way at the end of the Day

As I stood, before the door, I debated how I was to open it. I'd have to have a ladder to reach the locks. Then it struck me. I asked for water. I got water. I was tired I was given a bedroom. I want this door to open. I took a deep breath. I stood tall, and in my most commanding voice I said. "Open." No one appeared before me, but slowly the locks began to move out of place. With each opening snap, I felt relief sweep over me. I wasn't a prisoner. This was my Castle and it heeded my words. The wood in the doors groaned as it opened outwardly. The floor in front of me was now splashed with the orange light of sunset. Outside, I saw a wide stone terrace, and farther beyond, I saw the end of a wide street lined with regal houses. I swallowed. The street was as empty as the castle, but I had to try to find someone. I took a step toward the door. Then the gray man snapped into my view. I was terribly startled. Not only by his sudden appearance, but by the look of him. He was not just gray, but he was slightly translucent in the light of the setting sun. I didn't get to ask him questions. He instead started dictating to me my trespasses.
"Your majesty, you have neglected your duties. You have not overseen the diplomatic chart. Nor have you set rules for the prison. Now you have broken security protocol by ordering the opening of the doors! I must say for your first day, you aren't doing very well."
Frustration is a very honest f word. How was I suppose to know any of this? No one has told me anything! I don't even know if I'm on planet Earth anymore! This gray old man had no business yelling at me, and I told him so. If he wanted me to know these things then he should have said. Popping a crown on a person, does not mean they know what they are doing. To which he replied, "Obviously."
The man in gray requested me to close the doors, and if I complied he would inform me at least of my duties. I told him the first thing I wanted to know was who he was and why was he see through. The man blushed gray at this. I felt bad. I know better than to remark about others looks. The man moved away from the sunlight, and to the side of the doors. I commanded their closing, and like before, they listened, and readily guided shut.

Wandering Day

After the coronation everyone left. No gray old man. No children. No young people. I was left all alone. I had no idea what to do. So did what I wanted. I explored! I figured the place must have been a castle. I found armories, and galleries. I found columned halls, and sitting rooms. I discovered secret passage ways, and crooked staircases, grand ballrooms, towers, tunnels, and one great Library. However, I did not find one single person. This was very bizarre to me, because everywhere I went was perfectly clean. It had no sign of dust or disrepair. Somebody had to keep this place sparkling.  After hours of searching, I grew thirsty and tired. I said to the castle, "Do you have any drinking fountains?" Lo and behold, a beautiful blond woman appeared. She offered me a crystal chalice filled with water. Her lips were as red as her deep red dress. Instead of taking the water, I bombarded her with questions. Surely she knew something about the place, or why I was there. She shook her flat curls, and said, " I  came to give you a drink you majesty."
I continued to question her, but all I learned that she and her two sisters lived to serve me. I asked her to bring me to her sisters. I thought they might know more. The woman took my hand gently, but swiftly guided me back the way I came. She lead to a room not far behind the balcony. It was a bedroom suite. The room was large, and that's an understatement. The ceiling was 18 feet high up at least. The four poster canopy bed was much larger than a King size, and yet despite its size it did not crowd the room. There was plenty of space between it es on and the dining table that seated six, the wardrobe, and the bookcase that went half way up to the ceiling. The book case was a sad sight. It had no books. I found that more disturbing then the framthe walls that held no images. I asked the woman where her sisters were, and they appeared, standing in the archway to the adjoining suite room. They were beautiful and blond like their sister. Also like their sister they knew nothing about anything. Not even where they were born or their own names. They offered me food, and the use of the suite. They told me it was mine, and no they didn't know how they knew. I felt so sleepy, I had no trouble falling asleep in that enormous bed. When I awoke, hours later, the women were gone. I called out for them and again in an instant they appeared. This time their hair was honey colored and their dresses peach. I asked them if they could find me some walking clothes. They nodded and pulled clothes from the wardrobe. I took off the torn white gown and dressed into the green blouse and brown trousers they offered me. They gave me exactly the sort of clothes I wanted. They really were good at taking care of me, but they had no answers for me. I knew what I had to do. I had to leave the way I saw the people leave earlier that day. The sun was setting outside, but I didn't care. I went down the steps by the balcony, and across that colossal room to the enormous wood and iron doors. Not only were they too large for me to open alone, but I saw that they were locked a hundred times over. A Queen locked in her own castle I whispered to myself.

An Unordinary Day

There I was standing on a balcony, overlooking a massive sea of people in the room below. I turned to flee the scene, because obviously I had nothing to say to them. I didn't even know who they were. Goodness, I didn't even know why I was there! Then I saw the man in black block my path. He asked me, "Don't you want to greet your people?" My stomach turned. "You know this place. It's the place you used to dream about. It is the place you used to believe was real."
I looked at him, and tried to wish him away, but he was just as solid as he was at School. I faced the people again, and placed my hands on the banister. My eyes scanned over dozens of faces. They were such young faces. Their eyes were so full of hope. They waited for me to speak. It was at this moment I realized my clothes had been changed. Instead of my school-day clothes, I was wearing a white gown. Who was I to these people? I look back again to the man. He frowns and pushes me aside. He shouted out to the people.
"It seems the lady is having difficulty recognizing her place with us. Shall I help her remember?"
"Yes!" Cheered the crowd.
At that word, he snatched me up, and held me over his head, before hurtling me at the crowd below. I had no time to think. In seconds, I would have been smashed upon impact on the floor below, but that didn't happen. An instinct took over, and instead of crashing, I flew. The whole back of my gown had ripped out to make way for white feathery wings. The people oohed as I swooped around the room. I couldn't help, but laugh. I had never felt so happy. I felt like flying forever, but fatigue took hold, and I made my way back to the balcony. I landed atop the banister. I was fully confident that even if I fell off of it my wings would save me. I smiled and waved at the people. I was happy that I made them happy. My wings had folded up and evaporated into my back. I hopped back onto the balcony floor. The man was still there. He was now furious and bleeding from his right hand. Concerned, I asked him if I had done anything wrong? He replied, "You did what had to be done, but don't think I am grateful."
Six foggy figures appeared and wrapped themselves around the man in black. In moments, he vanished into the mist. The crowd erupted in cheers. It was overwhelming, before I knew it an old gray man was placing a diadem on my head. He declared, "All hail the Princess of souls, the grand duchess of the seas, the Queen of the children, and the Empress of the lands."
I swore no oath that day. I gave no promise. I didn't even claim to desire those heavy titles. However, some gifts cannot be refused.

Not an Average School Day

It was just another day at college. The student body had assembled together to learn about new student fees. It was an easy place to drift off into a daydream. Ever since I was a child, I've been afraid of a cloaked figure in black. I used to believe he wanted to snatch me out of my room at night. As I sat among my peers, I saw that man again. He wasn't in a cloak, but I knew it was him. He walked among the students to the front of the room. Obviously, I was day dreaming. None of the students acted like they saw this stranger all in black, but why did it feel so real? Mentally, I tried to erase him, but he did not leave my sight. He walked up on the platform where the academic dean stood commenting on the stragglers coming in. The man eyed the dean and then me. Fear swept over me. I gasped so loud I was afraid the whole student body heard, but they didn't. Everyone around me has gasped too. They could see him! He had appeared to them out of thin air! There was some confusion followed by thunderous applause, as the man in black theatrically bowed. I felt my face grow white hot. He was just a magician. I must have seen through his trick. He wasn't a dream at all. The Dean of Students attempted to shoo the man off the platform when the unthinkable happened. Leather clad, machete wielding, men marched in through all the doors to the aid of the man in black. No one was going to take him from that stage. He owned it. It was his. He took the microphone and started moving back and forth across the platform. He came to us for a purpose. We had something he wanted. Well not something...someone. His voice. I had heard it so many times before.
"Don't be coy." He uttered. "I know you know who you are. Come down here and face me."
I sunk down in my seat.
"Fine. I'll call to you. Annabelle."
That moment I severely regretted not going to a larger school. I couldn't hide from him. I never could hide from him, but before that day I always got away. I'd wake up or fall asleep. Depending on if it was a nightmare or a waking terror. This time he was real, and yet as I met him in the flesh I felt no fear. He noticed too.
"You're too much awake. Better change that."
Then something covered my whole frame. I couldn't breathe or see. I thought I was going to die, and maybe I did for a moment. When I came to gasping for breath, my classmates were no longer around me. Instead, I was in front of a much larger crowd, in a much more beautiful place. I went from an ugly ordinary room, in front of 3 hundred, to a gorgeous, enormous place in front of about 3 million. What was I to do?

The Living Dead

When we first roll out of the earth, as newborns, some believe we are alive. That we have beating hearts. Others believe, we are born dead, and need a jump start even in our infancy. I don't really care to debate that nonsense anymore. I exist now only by what can be observed, and when I was young I observed that I had a beating heart. I don't know when it first stopped beating. I don't know if it was something that I did or something someone did to me, but one day, in my youth, it stopped. Once it stopped beating, I became a good deal smellier, and my skin began to peel. I felt so grotesque. It was during this time that I met the Crew.

The Crew are clean cut Zombies. They believe in a man that was born alive and stayed alive until he was murdered, out of vain jealousy, and turned to dust, but it doesn't end there. This man was more than a man, and he proved it by coming back from dust. When he came back from dust; it was more true life than even babies are said to have. Then he left this world telling others how they too can obtain true life. So they can avoid turning into dust that does not rise.

I was very curious about this crew. I wanted to know how they stayed so clean. I learned that they believed that it was important to live as though you are alive. Just as alive as their leader was. I decided to join them. I took off my old clothes and was given new, but before I wore them I was to wash. This wash was suppose to be the entry way to life. There are so many stories about what the wash actually does or doesn't do for you. In fact, there are some members of the crew that do not wash at all. I wasn't apart of that crowd. I washed, and I felt new. Now I didn't actually become new, but my figurative heart felt like it did when I was as a happy child. Every week I'd rejoin with the crew. Together we'd patch up our broken flesh, and renew are blood. I often felt like a weekly patch up was unnecessary. Especially, since we didn't even use real flesh and blood to fix ourselves. It was just symbolic. We'd actually use substitutes. (Although, there are some members of the Crew that believe differently.)

Oh the different beliefs! There are so many! So much arguing and bickering! All the while if you don't believe or practice the right thing you won't receive true life! I confess, I took quite heatedly to the heart of this debate. Could I become undead again? Or once I accepted the promise of life would I keep it no matter what I did? Oh how this used to trouble me! Had I lost my ticket to true life by eating that squirrel brain? Could I never be free of the shackles of life, even if I wanted to be? Does my choice mean nothing? Was I destined to join the Crew? Honestly, sometimes I just wanted to eat a squirrel brain and not worry about losing my life. Not only that, but I began to resent the Crew members. So many of them would close their eyes to others sufferings. Or to the natural order of this world. After all, it is only natural for zombies to eat brains! It was at that thought that it struck me; I was never brought to life. Everything had been symbolism. The washing didn't make my heart beat again. It just made me imagine it. The patch-ups, while they do help to keep my rotting body together. It does not prevent the rot. While I do feel less like a zombie when I abstain from brains. I still want them. My desire has not been taken away. This troubled me greatly.

One day, while stomping through my graveyard, I spotted a tombstone I'd never seen before. It was a stone skeleton with wings like an angel. I presumed it was meant to be the angel of death. In its boney hand it held a knife. It was a real knife made of metal and not stone like that statue. I suppose some teenage zombies put it there for a laugh. It took time, but I managed to pry it from the statues grasp. I asked myself if I was ever alive? When I turn to dust, as all zombies do, will I rise into a living body? No one has ever seen that happen save once, and he is no longer here. Was he ever here to start? Or was he just a myth to comfort us poor walking dead? I took the knife in my hands and cut off all of my patches. The blood was quite messy. I had spoiled my Crew clothes, but I didn't care. If I had ever been alive, then I could die, but I discovered that I was just the same as I ever was. I am and always was a zombie. I felt a mixture of grief and relief. Sad because I spent so many years as a trusting idiot. Relieved because now I don't have to live as something I naturally am not. I'm not alive. I am undead.

Years went by and I spent less time eating brains and more time just lying in my grave. Dust was going to come to everyone. I might as well be ready for it. It was then I heard a knock at my coffin door. It was a member of the Crew. When she saw me she gasped.

“I didn't know. I didn't know you gave up on true life. I am sorry for sounding rude. I was just surprised to see you without your patches.”

“Yeah, look at me without my patches and I've never been better!”

She had real tears in her eyes. This is something not easily done. I had ran into other Crew members before this, but few had shown the level of grief of this girl. They were too busy being angry or indifferent. This Crew member ardently tried to persuade me to return. It was sweet. Pointless, but sweet. I had studied far more thoroughly than her about Zombie anatomy, about history, and the natural order of things. She could only offer me what was in her undead heart. I was kind to her, after all I'm not a monster. The conversation drew to a close when she offered me one last thing.

“I'd like to offer you a patch. I know you don't believe that it'll do you any good, but since you don't believe it won't do you any harm either.”

I felt very agitated at this request. A prerequisite for using a patch is believing in it! I was repelled by the notion of it. I argued with her how it was fundamentally impossible for me to take a patch! Not only that, but she only had a patch and not the fake blood that goes with it. She countered the patch doesn't do anyone any harm, and if I truly didn't believe in the symbol of it. I wouldn't be afraid of it. I scoffed. This was a stupid dare, but I had grown tired of her, and I wanted her to leave. I reached out for the patch only to have her keep it from me.

“I'd like to be the one that patches you, please.”

I rolled my eyes and consented. Moments later, I felt soft little hands on my neck. I once had a large patch there. When I removed it, all those years ago, it gushed quite profusely. The patch latched onto my rotted flesh. I admit that I was moved, but it was a feeling nothing more. At last the Crew member was ready to leave me, but I had one last question for her.

“Why did you pick my neck to patch?”

“Wasn't it obvious?”

I shake my head.

“You were bleeding.”

Dead people don't bleed.

More Princess Adelide

Being a Princess had its days of dull freedom. Days where there were no obligations but also nothing to do. Today was such a day for Adelide. She was free to wander the castle grounds. Halfway down the eastern stair Adelide stopped to listen to the chatter of the gentle ladies. They all wore lurid colors and a large feather in their hair.
"If only I could be a Princess again!" To be provided and cared for, with no work on my part. All play. Sleeping all day..."
"My nanny never let me sleep in late. But is was still nice."
"There are those that stay forever Princesses."
"There are those that become Queen. That would've been nice wouldn't it?"
"Oh it depends on the King."
"What if there is no King?"
"What about your own personal Prince?"
"Oh my. Ha ha"
"Or a stable boy?"
At that thought the whole flock of them burst into riotous laughter and giggles. Adelide lost all interest in them. The ladies of the court always spouted nonsense. Instead Adelide drifted down the great stone corridor. She watched the dance of light and shadow as she passed the empty windows that looked out to the glass roofed hall. Soon the light became more appealing then the shadows, and she made her way into the brightly lit hall.
There she found Patrick playing the onyx baby grand piano. He played a soft gentle tune, accompanied nicely by the sound of the hall's center water fountain. Adeide smiled. Patrick picked up the pace of his song at the sight of it. He thought she was a sweet child, and every musician likes an appriciative audience.
"Won't the water from the fountain hurt the piano?" Asked Adelide.
"I don't think so. I hope not. It was the King's idea that it be placed here." Commented Patrick.
"Yes, this whole hall is new. It used to be an open courtyard." She added.
"Well, new to here. This little baby grand has been in the castle for ages." Patrick said with a glint in his eye.
"Where has it been all of this time? Surely, I never saw her in the concert hall or music room." She wondered.
"Oh, there was a special place for her up in the north tower." Patrick explained.
These words stung at Adelide. Everyone knows that proper castles have towers. And everyone knows that this Castle was not a proper one.
"This castle has no tower." She snapped.
"Oh, are you sure about that?" Asked Patrick with a wry smile.
"It is perfectly obvious this Castle has no tower. I would have found it by now." She asserted.
Patrick moved to the higher keys and attempted to hide his growing delight at Adelide's irritation.
"I am certain of it Patrick! There is no place it could possibly be." She said with obvious strain in her voice.
Patrick moved on to play te lower keys, and had finally managed to suppress his smile and said,
"I don't know, little highness. I was told the tower existed, but I have never been there myself, but I still believe in it."
Adelide was made silent by this. Patrick wasn't and augmentative fellow, nor had she known him to be a liar. She supposed he was trying to tell her some kind of joke. A joke she did not like. Her castle was a low class castle, and no amount of money King Zigfried poured into it would make in a highbrow one. A castle is either built with a tower or not. No amount of wishing can make one appear. Maybe Patrick was trying to teach me a lesson on appreciation. After all the glass hall was beautiful, and Patrick was ever kind. Whatever his reason, the soothing music made Adelide content. She laid her arm down as a pillow for her head and listened until she fell asleep.

Bedtime Story

Since my son was 15 months old I have had a routine for him. It has always helped him get to sleep. I have updated a few times over the years. just recently I let go of the Tickle Story. It used to work like a charm to get him to sleep. but now he is bored of it. So for the parents of the world who have kids that liked to be tickled. Here is a story to help those kids go to sleep at night.

Once upon a time...

there was as a GREAT BIG Castle.

It had turrets and towers, and little flags that would go swoosh in the wind.

Inside the Castle was a teeny weeny Prince and an itty bitty Princess.

The Prince and the Princess loved to be tickled!

So one day the Tickler came, and tickled the Prince and Princess so much that they said "No more tickles! W want to go to bed!

So the teeny weeny Prince and the itty bitty Princess went to their beds and fell fast asleep.

Goodnight.

In case you didn't know. I tickle my kids or kid, depending on who is present, during the story. Oh how they would laugh. My son loved it so much. It was his favorite part of the routine. There was also a story about a not-so-scary monster that accompanied it. Now he likes to talk before bed. It is so amazing to see one's child grow up.