A Castle in the Clouds
She used to have the
most exquisite dreams.
There was always a
castle, and then something strange would happen, like a fairy appearing in a
shower of magic dust, or one of the garden pumpkins turning into a shining
carriage or the mice standing up on two feet and talking to her; and then after
a lot of dancing, the dream would have a happy ending and she would wake up
with the most beautiful feeling in the world. That she was beautifully loved.
But nowadays it was only
a dream.
Now she woke up
feeling tired and sore, every muscle in her body aching from the work her so
called sisters put her through each and every day.
“At least they didn’t make me snake the drain yesterday.” She
thought dimly as she lay there in bed a moment.
Then she sighed. “And that’s my very first thought of the
day. Brilliant.”
She dressed without
sound, since of course there were no talking mice, much less anyone else she
could talk to this early in the morning up in the attic. She stamped her feet
to shake off the cold and promptly tripped over the broom she had dropped on
the floor last night. She stumbled against the rickety bed frame, one hand
clapping automatically over her mouth so she wouldn’t shriek and wake the house.
But luck was with her
today. She fell over onto what passed for her mattress without anything more
than a muffled squeak. She lay there stiffly for a moment, waiting to see if
her hawk of a step-mother had heard anything.
But the house remained
asleep.
The girl relaxed
against her bed, hand finally leaving her mouth as she took a deep breath. She
shivered into the thin blankets, but as much as she just wanted to lay there
and go back to sleep, she knew she couldn’t. She didn’t want to risk attracting
her step-mother’s attention today of all days.
So after a moment she
pushed herself off the bed. It squeaked and creaked even from her thin weight
and when she had found her feet again, there were imprints left in her cracked
skin from the sharp bedsprings.
Feeling weary and
sore, she went over and opened the shutters, despite the chill outside, and
leaned against the windowsill. For a long moment she looked out at the sleeping
winter town spread out below her.
Everything was white
and silver. Snow rested on the rooftops. Doves rested under the eaves and
gables of the little town’s houses. And off in the distance, sparkling as
cleanly as the fresh fallen snow, stood the palace from her dreams.
It rose, tall and
inspiring, against the bright blue of the sky, stretching for what seemed like
miles in silver grandeur. It was the most beautiful place in the capital city
of Tremaine
“At least the palace is real.” She thought from where she leaned
against the windowsill.
Early morning mist
blew off of the large fresh water lake that rested behind the palace, unseen.
The mist swirled in front of the palace, obscuring it’s foundations and
grounds, making it look like it was floating on top of a sea of clouds with
nothing but sky underneath it.
“Because that’s all it
really is,” the girl whispered to the doves nesting under her own house’s
eaves, “a castle in the clouds.”
She knew she was
mixing metaphors, but to her mind that didn’t really matter.
Because all that
mattered in the end was the broom lying at her feet.
She sighed dejectedly.
Her breath created a little puff of white in the chill morning air. Winter was
coming to a close, but spring was slow in coming this year and it was still
cold outside this early in the morning. With a little shiver, she turned away
from the window. Resigned, she picked up the broom still on the floor and
headed downstairs to start on her never ending chores.
Behind her the window
remained open, the palace resting in the far off clouds, coated in the silver
mist of the morning.
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