I am the mist

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Fantasy / Romance
Work in progress
3.0 1 review
Age Rating:

About Princesses

Dear journal,

Oh, infrean that sounds cheesy, but it is what it is. For the record, I enjoy reading books more than writing them. And this is a book, it is a book about my life. I will, or more like I must start at the beginning otherwise, dear future reader, you will get lost. Not that that is a problem, seeing how you should not be reading my personal thoughts. In fact get the infrean out of my book and go live your own life. Sighs, that was not nice. Very well, let’s get it over with, to start I am a princess (surprise!), and when thinking about princesses you usually think of three types; ugly, normal, or extraordinarily beautiful. From there you might think good, bad, smart, or so extremely stupid you want to burn the book. Burning books or journals is sacrileges, and I will seek you out, and kill you personally if you do. The only exception is if it is a truly evil book, in which case I will give you the matches. A lot of evil happens in my story, but overall I am not evil…. Who I am is simple, I am Nelvia of Crail. In books or journals, honesty is the best policy. So honestly, I fall between normal and extraordinary beautiful. Rest assured I am most certainly good, well most of the time. Pranks don’t count as bad... I am moderately smart. When it comes to family I am middling, being the seventh of fourteen. I am the oldest girl, though. There are six older boys, whom I call the elders, and then there was me, four more girls, and a boy. You know those dad quirks that every dad has? Well my dad’s is, that he will look around our dinner table with a face of absolute disbelief, and then he will look at his wife Galena, and ask:

“Are you sure these are all ours?!”

This is our que to tackle him off of his chair and sit on him until he yields, and promises a treat later.

Honestly, there could be no doubt as to who we belonged to. Our hair varies from strawberry blond, with more strawberry than blonde, to a rich glossy auburn. After that, one look at a freckled nose and that would be the end of the discussion. The red hair and freckles came from papa, and the auburn came from mama. I look like my mother, medium hight and strong. Auburn hair and freckled nose. 17 years old and never been kissed. My dad is large in everything, body beard, and voice. There is a nursery rhyme about the man whose beard was so big that birds built a nest in it… Yes, well a fairlin family moved into my father’s, it took the promise of a round of cheese to get them to move out. The round was so big compared to them, that it smooshed the mother fairlin flat. Mama had to blow it up again. They have kept clear of father since then, much to his sorrow. Father is a softy, and the little people were a great favorite to him.

“Of course they have to go!” Mother, said when he tried to let them stay “They clash with your red beard!”

The little purple people would protest in their tinkling voices. They are a vain folk. But I agree with mom, purple and red together are hideous.

Court life in our land is different in the fact that there is no court life, not in the way there is in the other lands. The castle is open to most everyone, so often the laughter of the village children echo throughout the halls. We don’t think castles should be set aside for a bunch of stuffy aristocrats, who don’t even see the magic of a castle! I don’t envy any of the other princesses with their rules on posture, and marriage, and good etiquette, and so on. My sisters and I were taught to be graceful and charming, but we were also allowed to learn how to swim and climb trees by the boys. As for marriage, it is our choice. If we want to marry for love, we can. And if we choose to marry into another kingdom we can. I plan to marry out of the kingdom, I am not a believer of love. How is that for an introduction? Bored? Good. That will make what happens next more interesting. Honestly from zero to 16 life was good. They say ignorance is bliss, and it is true. I lived in blissful ignorance until life took a turn towards the unexpected. Rather rude of it, but life is fickle, or is that luck? Either way, this story really began when the peddlers returned.

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