A Princess Quest

Disclaimer: I do not own the Disney Princess or any of the characters mentioned in this story. They all belong to the Disney company.

“Don’t tell me you actually believe that!”

Ella stopped in her tracks in the middle of the church hallway where she had been walking with Philip and stared at him in disbelief.

“But, those were just stories! Stories he told us for entertainment… to inspire our imagination… whatever it was dad had said.”

“Ella, I know you don’t believe… but it’s true! I didn’t really believe either until I found this hiding in some thorn bushes in the Black Forest.” Philip shook an ancient-looking key in front of her face.

“You could have bought that key anywhere.”

“No, Ella. It’s true. If you will just let me show you….” He pulled out his tablet and started flashing through pictures of the princesses. A six year old girl couldn’t be more obsessed with Disney royalty than Ella’s family was.

“Snow White, Cinderella (He nudged Ella as she scrolled past her namesake), Aurora, Ariel, Belle, Jasmine, Pocahontas, Mulan, Tiana, Rapunzel, Merida. The official Disney princess lineup. But, if you recall, there are way more princesses featured in Disney movies; and not all the ‘princesses’ could even claim that title. So why these characters? Why not others? They’re clues, Ella.”

Ella started to walk away, so Philip grabbed her hand.

“Ella, wait! Just look at their crowns.” He pulled up a picture of the mermaid with a tiara on. Now that Ella looked at it…. It was still just a stupid cartoon crown. She was getting tired of humoring Philip. She looked at him and he looked back like a child on Christmas morning.

“You see? The gemstone in her crown! Purple and shaped like a seashell! It’s part of the clue! The poem that dad found!”

“Dad wrote that poem, Philip. If you’ll excuse me, I have to find a bathroom now.”

Ella marched away to find a bathroom, but Philip stayed and pulled out of his wallet the poem… or the riddle… the verse… their dad had found when they were young.

Many years hence, the princesses will unite

When they number eleven, the time will be right

Their style will change, their dresses will glow,

So heed these words and you shall know.

The first, the bow worn in her hair

The second, her shoes, put on with care

The third, her tall and golden crown

The fourth, a gemstone, but not round

The fifth, a rose found in full bloom

The sixth, a crown to match her groom

The seventh, the necklace she often wears

The eighth, a sword she bravely bears

The ninth, her green and leafy gown

The tenth, a hidden princess found

The eleventh, the tip of her fair bow

Collect these things, and you shall know

Philip read over it a few times and took notes of his recent find in the margin. His father never told the origins of the poem, but claimed it came from someone within the Disney company. The riddle was a quest, and the prize was Disney’s vast fortune hidden somewhere. According to the poem, the company had planned to change the looks of each princess once they numbered eleven; this took place in 2013, meaning the time was now to solve the quest and earn the fortune.

Ella finally returned, complaining about getting lost along the way, and Philip read the poem through to her before she could stop him from doing so.

“You see, I know the poem is real, and I’ve already figured out which piece it describes from each. Ariel’s is her seashell gemstone, Cinderella’s is her glass slipper, Tiana’s is her dress… you get the idea”

“Well, what about this one… ‘A lost princess found’?”

“That’s Rapunzel. You know that part in Tangled when they go to the kingdom and…”

“I haven’t seen it” Ella snapped proudly. She thought Philip would get upset and try to force her to watch it, but he just sadly looked away and whispered “I thought not.”

They sat in silence a moment, then Philip held up the key again.

“I found this in the Black Forest… where Sleeping Beauty is set. If you look closely, you can see a hidden Mickey here, which proves it’s Disney-made. The only problem is that, obviously, this isn’t a crown, so I don’t know exactly what it means. I found it inside a chest with the inscription “To my castle.” But in all the castles around the area, I couldn’t find anywhere the key would fit.”

“Well obviously not. Sleeping Beauty’s castle isn’t in Germany; it’s in Disneyland.”

Ella spoke so matter-of-factly that Philip simply stared.

“That’s common knowledge.”

“Ella… let’s go to Disneyland.” Philip pleaded.

Ella thought a moment, and then agreed. “I’ve always wanted to go anyway. Honestly, I don’t know why dad never took us there, being so consumed by Disney himself.”

Round Up: Week Five

Prompt: I am super excited and slightly terrified for this prompt. It's a little complex to get started, but I know some great stories will come out of it.

STEP ONE: Grab your ipod or any song playing device and make sure it is set on shuffle

STEP TWO: Find a song whose title is also a person's name and use that as your story's main character. You can listen to the song if you like, but make sure to click on it.

STEP THREE: From that song, skip forward five times. The song name that comes up is the title of your story. Make sure you are writing this all down somewhere.

STEP FOUR: Skip forward three times and use ANY LYRIC from that song in your story. A lyric has to be at least five words long, but you can change the wording a little if you need.

STEP FIVE: Continue skipping in sets of three until you have five songs to choose lyrics from (seven songs in all with the name and title). If you can't use them all, at least work in four of the five songs. Note: If you stop on a song without words, skip to the next song and use that. If it's a foreign language, you can either translate the lyrics or skip forward.

STEP SIX: Write an amazing story and be sure to credit all the songs at the end.

NOTE: You can repeat the process up to three times if you wish, but always start from a name. Don't pick and choose songs to use. Don't be a cheater cheater pumpkin eater.

Amanda

I was really happy with the songs that came up for  my story. I noticed most of them were by the High Kings, which was odd, but their songs are so poetic and wonderful that I didn’t even care. Peggy’s character comes from a life I sometimes wish I could live- wandering carefree through Europe just having experiences and meeting cool people. Even though she was living a charmed life, Peggy is still down to earth and in touch with the important things in life.

Epilogue: She decided to wait three days to go meet Alan, but she caved and went to find him that afternoon. She gets a job at the woman’s flower shop and stays a few months in Munich, and starts dating Alan. She finally finds her way back home when her mom falls ill and nobody else bothers to take care of her. When she realizes she won’t be able to go back to live with Alan, he moves to Washington, and there, they start their greatest adventure… trying to figure out how to pay for tuition and a wedding.

MY VOTE: Korrin

Korrin

My first two options for this story was Name: Sirius Title: The Sorcerer’s Apprentice and Name: Gilderoy Title: You’re So True.  It was super hard to decide between the two as you can see.  I decided to go with the Gilderoy character from Starkid’s A Very Potter Senior Year because Starkid is one of the greatest things on this planet.  I continued his story of finally joining the world of the mice.  I was super excited about it but unfortunately I do not think I was hyper enough when I wrote this story so Gilderoy probably doesn’t sounds as pompous as I wanted him to. I also didn’t want to write a novel so I rushed it a bit but other than that it’s pretty great. I was so happy when one of the lyrics that I could use was “And even after all this time” because it’s a fan-fic of a Harry Potter spin off and any respectable Potterhead could not pass that up. This is just supposed to be a fun story.

MY VOTE: Kylie

Kylie

Things came up in my personal life this week which contributed to my story being (technically) an hour late. This was another hard prompt for me. Specifics aren’t good with me, apparently.

This story was originally supposed to be a love story. I wanted my protagonist to fall madly, deeply in love with this boy. I was going to make them have an on-again off-again relationship and use all this great dramatic language to tell the story. Instead, I got a first person story starring an angry potty mouth and a gay boy.

I love it.

I imagine that these two have a great friendship that continues for the rest of their lives. Maybe she introduces him to his next boyfriend. Maybe he pulls some strings and gets her a fantastic job where she’s always wanted to work No matter what happens, I can tell you that I see these two watching movies and throwing popcorn at each other from across the room. Crazy kids. Their friendship is adorable.

MY VOTE: Korrin

NEXT WEEKS PROMPT:

Write a story using the most vivid dream you can remember. You can change the characters in it if you wish, but the plot should stay the same.

Make a Move

                I hate crowds. There are always so many people, and none of them ever move the way you want them to. I guess it’s a side effect of living in the Big Apple, though—people gotta move and streets have to be narrow and overpopulated. That’s the way they make it happen and that’s the way it has to be. One day, someone will make hover cars or teleportation devices or something—anything—to make these streets less crowed, and I may have to kiss that person full on the mouth in gratitude.

                Today, the streets are more crowded than usual. I don’t know why, other than it’s starting to hit summer and tourist season might have already started up. Tourists are the worst kind of people. After a few years, you adapt to this madhouse way of life. There’s no time for tourists to adapt to the city. They get confused, they wander aimlessly, they ask you for directions, they stop walking in front of you… Tourists shouldn’t be allowed out on the streets, if you ask me. Either that, or at least give them some sort of orientation pamphlet for God’s sake. Don’t make the rest of us suffer for their ignorance.

                I push through the crowd of people and take the stairs two at a time to my apartment door. All I want right now is a cup of tea and a book. And maybe the internet. Okay, probably the internet. Whatever, I don’t care what I do, so long as I’m away from people. I swing open the door, and almost hit some random dude standing squarely in front of the inside staircase.

                He has those stupid hipster glasses and one of those stupid hipster haircuts, and he’s wearing a button up shirt with khaki skinny jeans. Hipsters already make my life miserable, and I’m not in the right mood to be dealing with one. My stomach tightens. I have never been more irritated in my entire life that there is no elevator in my building, even when I first moved in to my fifth floor apartment.

                I walk up behind him and just stand. Maybe he’ll notice that I’m waiting for him to move. I rock on my heels and even bounce up and down, but he doesn’t notice. I clear my throat, and he’s still staring up the staircase.

                I’d like to make you move, I think as I stare at the back of his terrible haircut.

                It’s when he jumps and turns around that I realize I spoke out loud.

                “Because… you know… You’re standing still,” I hopefully don’t stammer. Oh God. I’m sweating.

                He smiles nervously and laughs. “Sorry. Were you trying to get up here?”

                Yes, numbskull. “Um, yeah, my apartment is upstairs.”

                He grins wider and still doesn’t budge. “Yeah? Mine too. What floor are you on?”

                My parents taught me to be pleasant, but New York has taught me to be cautious. “I’m on one up the stairs. So if you could just… You know…” I wave my fingers at him.

                “Oh, right, right, sorry.” He stands aside. “See you later then, neighbor!”

                I don’t respond. I’m too busy taking the stairs two at a time.

                Today, he’s trying to pull a futon up the stairs. I haven’t seen him for three days, and now he’s stuck between the third and fourth floors by himself trying to pull a futon up the stairs. I’m starting to wonder if he has a brain rattling around in there or if it’s just dust.

                He sees me, and he smiles from ear to ear.

                Shit.

                “Hey, neighbor! You wouldn’t mind helping me get this up here, would you? ”

                I paste a stiff smile on. No, I don’t want to help him, but he’s blocking the entire staircase. “Sure,” I lie as I halfheartedly grab the bottom of the futon with my empty left hand. “I can’t help that much, though. I’ve got books.”

                He lifts it up a few steps and then looks at me in surprise. “Books? You writing something, neighbor?”

                “No, I go to school. You know. College. University. I study.”

                “English major?”

                I’m tempted to drop the futon and let him deal with it on his own. I’m a history major, damn it. Why does everyone just assume I’m an English major? “No. English majors aren’t the only ones who use books, you know.”

                “Ah, I see.”

                Fortunately, he’s stopped moving now. He pulls level onto the floor and I start sweating. This has got to be a joke, right? “Well, this is it! The fifth floor, finally,” he pants. “Thanks for the help, neighbor.”

                We both stand there, him panting, me shifting my books from one arm to the other. When he keeps standing there, I awkwardly turn to the stairs, and without saying anything I begin to climb. I can chill on the roof for a while. He doesn’t need to know that he was blocking the door to my apartment.

                I swear the man is stalking me. Today, I had to help him carry up a hanging parrot cage.

                “Well, you'll have something for your memoirs now, won't you?” he laughs. I decide not to point out that I don’t have a memoir, or that if I did, it wouldn’t be about him. Instead, I stay quiet. I don’t even give him the luxury of asking what the hell the parrot cage is for, since he clearly doesn’t have a parrot and this building doesn’t allow pets.

                I don’t know what to think about this dude. I’ve lived long enough to know that when a guy makes this much effort to be around you, he definitely likes you. And living in New York, there’s no shortage of guys that want to get in your pants. So the fact that he really isn’t making any moves is confusing. I’m not interested in him by any means, but I would’ve thought that he would have at least put some sort of plan in motion. I mean, he’s strategically forcing me to help him move, but other than that, he isn’t trying to pull anything. It’s weird how one second, it seems like he’s crushing on me, and the next, it seems like he could care less. And I don’t care if he’s leaning one way or the other—okay, that’s a lie, I actually do care—but I’d really like him to make up his mind.

                “Oh good! You’re just in time to help me with some of these boxes!” He smiles that bright smile, the one that gets me to help him carry his items of the day up the stairs to his room, the room that’s across the hall from mine. Not today.

                “Okay, man, time to cut the shit.” I throw my arm over the nearest box, like I’m holding it hostage. He gulps. “You wait for me here every day at 3 o’clock. True or false?”

                “Uh,” he stammers. “It-it’s true.”

                “Next question: you don’t actually ask anyone else for help. True or false?”

                “True.” He’s bright red.

                “You like me. True or false?”

                “I thought we had a good thing going,” he says, looking down and to the left as he shifts his weight from foot to foot.

                “Bullshit. I move your things upstairs and you say ‘thanks, neighbor,’ and we part ways. If you like me, then you’re doing a really shitty job of showing it.”

                I can see something click in his brain, as if everything suddenly makes sense. “Oh my God,” he says. “Oh my God. I thought—Oh God, I thought everyone knew. I’m just so used to everyone knowing, I guess I didn’t think to—“ He stops and takes a deep breath. He’s thinking too fast to speak. “You’re very pretty and everything, but… I’m gay.”

                Oh.

That explains a lot.

                “I am so, so sorry,” he says, the words spilling out of his mouth. “I didn’t mean to lead you on. Did I lead you on? Oh God, I totally did. I promise I didn’t mean any harm, I just wanted a friend. I’m moving to New York alone and I met you and you seemed so nice. I thought we could maybe be friends, but of course you thought I was hitting on you. I was doing all that flirty boyfriend stuff and—“

                I throw up my hand. “Literally stop talking now or I will pick up this box that is clearly labeled ‘fragile’ and I will chuck it as hard as I can at your head.”

                He stops talking and stares at me. I pick up the ‘fragile’ box. “By the way, neighbor, I’m totally not interested in you. And stop calling me ‘neighbor,’ okay? My name is Belle. And if you make fun of my name, I swear to God I will push you down the stairs.”

                He grins. “Fair enough. I’ll do the same if you make fun of ‘Winston.’”

                “How about I just call you ‘Dubs’ and you can come up with some cutesy nickname for me?”

                “Deal,” he says, then picks up another box and skips up the stairs two at a time.

Song List

Belle, from Beauty and the Beast

Make a Move, from Shrek the Musical

Paralyzer, by Finger Eleven (“I want to make you move/Because you’re standing still”)

Finale, from A Gentleman’s Guide to Love and Murder (“You'll have something for your memoirs now, won't you?”)

Good Thing Going, from the album Opposite You by Marin Mazzie and Jason Danieley (“We had a good thing going”)

You're So True

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the character of Gilderoy Lockhart, he belongs to Queen Rowling and Warner Bros. I also do not own the idea of Gilderoy the Mouse Prince. We have Starkid and their wonderful genius to thank for that. This is simply what one would probably call a fan fic off of AVPSY.

It has been three years since I have infiltrated this wonderful world.  I finally found a way to shrink myself permanently and join the world of mice.  The populace that I found my way to accepted me as their better immediately.  With my magical charm and impossibly good looks no other outcome could have happened.  Since I have been working my way up to the top.  I am completely confident that I will achieve my life-long dream of becoming Gilderoy the Mouse Prince!

Just like in the Wizarding World I have caught the hearts of everyone around me.  Nothing stands in my way, except the one thing I never saw coming. They were not the uncultured swine I thought they were.

Sure I have brought technology and my magical abilities have wooed many a mouse woman, not to mention how my art collection has swept this tiny nation, but they were already organized.  Much like the world up top, this world is ruled by a queen. It has taken me years to work my way up to her courts, mostly using my award winning smile on the courtiers.  Now all I have to do is win the queens heart and officially become her prince.  The first of my three wives.

The first time I saw her was at an assembly.  She was going to make an announcement about something or other that may have been important, but I didn’t really care.  All I could think about was how good I would look talking from that balcony.  Her people were cheering and screaming waiting for her to come out.  All of her subjects adore her. When she walked out the door, I knew that winning her would be one of my greater accomplishments.

That is what leads us to today. 

I found out that the queen loves stories, but she can’t read.  She has storytellers that tell her what stories they have heard in the world of the humans, but she has grown tired of those old men and their boring, repetitive tales.  Step one to wooing a queen, give her something she wants.

I have snuck into her personal antechamber to surprise her with my witty prose that produces magnificent chortles like nobody’s business.  Except she is taking way too long, matters of state or what-not.   

“What are you doing here?!” a squeaky voice shouts at me.

“Ah, your majesty, how good of you to join me.” The queen is standing behind me in a gown made from hummingbird wings her people scavenged.   

“I will not ask you again Lord Lockhart. I demand to know what you are doing in my personal quarters.”

“Why, I’ve come to tell you a story.” I sat down with a flourish, just to make sure her eyes stayed on me.  It had the effect I was looking for, since she was looking at me I could see her eyes light up at the mention of a new story.

“A new story? Why do you think you could do better than my court appointed storytellers?”

“Your wise men don’t know how it feels to be thick as a brick.” I say, “So what will it be? Are you going to give me a chance?”

She stares at me for a long time.  Eventually she moves toward the seat just opposite of me. We sit in silence for what feels like a life time.  I notice the slight scent of Gouda cheese coming off of her.  Only the best for the royals, eh?   It’s not my favorite cheese.  It turns me off of her for a second.  Oh, well. It could be worse. I’m going to catch her anyways.

“Well, get on with it then.” She squeaks, avoiding my gaze.

I smile and start to tell her my greatest creation.  The better version of those stupid Harry Potter essays that Granger wrote all those years ago.  I maintain her attention through my tale of Potter’s first year of Hogwarts.  She laughs, gasps, and cries at all of the right times.  I finish my story and silence once again permeates the room.

“Is that it?” She squeaks. She is staring at me expectantly. “What happens to Lord Voldemort? What about the rest of his schooling?” Once again I am astonished by how intelligent this queen really is.  We will do great things for this nation.

Over the next few weeks I capture the queen’s attention the same way I captured the Muggle world, with tales of Harry Potter that never actually happened.  No one needs to know that.  In all that time, something even more magical happened, we became close. 

We are walking through the queen’s favorite gallery that was a gift from the kings of the snails. Lovely couple.  The gallery held rare works of art from the snail people, not really my thing but they did command the color green very well. She interrupts me in the middle of my telling about Sirius Blacks home Grimmauld Place. Not the most exciting bit, I admit but it does the job of making the reader feel more for Black when I kill him at the end, but she didn’t know that.

“I do enjoy our time together Lord Lockhart,” She sighs, “It has become a real comfort to me these past weeks and I have come to cherish every minute.”

This was my moment, I finally had her in my grasp. 

“I enjoy it too your majesty.  No one has ever enjoyed my stories as much as you have.” It was an easy lie, harmless enough, “And your laugh has become very endearing to me.”

She giggled, just like I knew she would.  The plan was working perfectly.  Gilderoy the Mouse Prince was within my reach. 

She stopped suddenly and turned towards me.  There was a fierce look in her eyes. “I think I have loved you from the first moment you were in my personal chambers.”

I pretend to be surprised, but this is exactly what I was expecting.  No woman can resist the charm of Gilderoy. 

“Your Majesty, I am beyond flattered.  I am also very happy, for I have loved you a great deal longer than this.”

“Even after all this time?” She moves closer to me, a smile breaking across her whiskered face.

“Always.” Oh, that’s good. I should work that into my Harry Potter tales somehow.  I still haven’t sent the seventh book to the publisher yet.

“You have made me so happy dear Gilderoy!” She grasps my hands and I can see her yellowed teeth in sharp detail.  “Our love will last forever.”

“It has been woven in the stories I have told and will be within all the ones to come.” I shout.  I hug the queen tightly.

My dream has been realized.  I will be Gilderoy, Mouse Prince!