Okay, I surprised even myself with the story that I am currently writing. The hardest part is continuing once you stop, and keeping a consistent vibe. I had a much more basic idea when I started writing, but I really got into it last night. I feel a little daunted by what I've started. I thought it was gonna be a dumb one page story, but this is really coming to life. I wrote all of that, and revised it within two hours. Am I bragging? Maybe a little, but this is the truth and I take pride in my work. So, here's my attempt to continue where I left off:
We weren't always princesses. My mother was never a princess, and my father was never a prince. In fact, we have no royal bloodlines whatsoever. We were the lowest of the low. Miserable peasants wallowing in our own self-pity. We weren't even good enough to shovel manure. We were the ones that were dumped on. Literally! The manure is shoveled onto large wagons, and carried out of town. Then they dump it where they please. Our backyard was a heaping, smelly pile of manure. It was especially bad in the summertime. Such is the life of the peasants, though! My mother and father don't treat them any better. They seem to have forgotten that they were once peasants too. Really, I think they refuse to acknowledge it. That isn't to say that it isn't possible for a peasant to ascend to the ranks of royalty, but it rarely happens. It's political, as it always is. A peasant has to convince someone of noble birth that they are valuable to them in some fashion. That is a very difficult task to achieve.
The monarchy is, as a whole, against it. Kings and queens, princes and princesses, knights, lords, dukes, even bards, friars, jesters and stable hands, all generally feel like peasants are unfit to rule. They weren't born into it. They are not of noble blood. They do not have the innate sense to rule. Really, nobody wants a peasant to rule, not even another peasant. Actually, I would say that they abhor the idea almost more than anyone of noble birth. Nobility will mock you. They will scoff at your foolish notion that you could even become a stable hand. They will make a public example of your idiocy, spitting on you, smiting you across the face, and throwing you into the mud. Peasants do not have that kind of power, but they are much worse because they actually hate you. Peasants despise anybody that has a higher standing than that of their own, and especially anyone that manages to rise from their equal standing to a higher standing. Peasants will kill to keep another peasant from rising above them. Rising to the ranks of nobility won't stop them either. They have nothing to lose. They don't have a throne for their son or daughter to assume. They are not leaving a kingdom behind. If they are killed first, that's it. They die. But if they kill you, your queen, your prince, your princess becomes their next target, until at last, they have assumed your throne. Wretched peasants!
© 2013 Ihaveadryfish.blogspot.com
----------------------------- Stay tuned for Part III -------------------------------------------------------------------
Coming next week
I love you dear!
No comments:
Post a Comment