Welcome to this week’s installment of many micro stories, ranging in length from 100 words to 500 words.
With each story we hope to deliver a little whimsy into the lives of our readers.
A THRONE UNGLUED
The Fairy Queen pursed her lips and from habit raised her hand to right her crown, only to remember it wasn’t there.
Her aide-de-caterpillar crawled toward her at speed, rose on his back seven pairs of legs and waved four pairs at her.
“Your Majesty, bad news, I’m afraid.”
Would the bad news ever end? Her hand lifted to her head and returned to her lap.
“Tell me, Cedric. I’m prepared for the worst.” Her temple throbbed.
“Your crown cannot be mended. The castle’s workshop is out of glue. We are unable to get a Unicorn horn to make more. Cattle horns, as you are aware, are not of sufficient quality to render down, and glue a royal crown.”
“Are no Unicorns willing to sacrifice their horns? Am I not their beloved Queen?”
“You are indeed, but with respect, your Majesty, have you seen any Unicorns lately?”
He had a point. Since her mother stole the last of the royal herd from the stables, and rode into the dusk, she hadn’t seen another one.
The pain in her chest indicated another bout of indigestion, or a heart attack. Cedric’s many feet shuffled, and her stomach churned. More bad news looming. She could tell from his waltzing feet. Her stomach twisted, and the knot in her throat threatened to choke her.
“I’m about to spin a chrysalis.” He bowed his head. “I’m sorry, I have no control…”
Good staff were so hard to keep. She raised her hand to stall his protestations. “Don’t Cedric. I envy you your chance to become something beautiful. Have you found a replacement?”
“No,” he muttered.
Her wings spasmed. Rage rose in her throat, and heat raced up her neck. Her scalp seemed to be on fire.
“I ABDICATE,” she screamed, standing to her feet. “Find someone else to wear the wonky crown. Search the Kingdom for a distant relation. I’m leaving.”
When her vision cleared, guilt swamped her. Poor Cedris clung to the wall, almost disappeared into a crack between the stone blocks.
“I’m sorry, Cedric. It’s not your fault. I apologise for frightening you.” She realised her pains had disappeared and a weird feeling of happiness infused her. She gently lifted her Aide-de-caterpillar and carried him out into the garden. “It’s a lovely day to spin a cocoon,” she murmured and left him on a low branch, dropping a royal kiss on his bobbing head. She slipped out through a side gate, knowing eventually the staff would miss her. Someone would come forward thinking they would have power and glory. They were welcome to the cold castle, the draughty halls and the poor lighting. The horizon beckoned. She always had magic to fall back on, and at last, she understood her mother’s departure. She might even bump into her somewhere in the future—or in the past.
Deryn Pittar is an award-winning author, who writes Sci.Fi., fantasy, Young Adult, futuristic and contemporary fiction, plus a dash of horror. She enjoys the challenge of short and flash fiction and dabbles in poetry. She is published in the above genre, including poetry.
Her monthly newsletter: https://iwriteuread.substack.com- will drop short fiction in your inbox.
See her books at: https://www.amazon.com/author/deryn-pittar-books.com
If you enjoyed this story you can find it and more in the Hawthorn & Ash anthology.
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