Wednesday, July 24, 2024

The Humble Queen - A Short, Creative Narrative. The Moral Of This Story Is - Despite Our Individual Upbringings and Financial Status, We Are ALL The Same.

Tired of the Royal life, she snuck out of the Palace gates, kicked off her high heeled shoes and fled bare footed into the bushy overgrowth in the night so no one would notice her sudden disappearance.

Until she made it to the Kingdom's
far off village.

There, she rebelliously stripped out off her tailormade regal dress and removed her crown. Folding and tucking the dress under her arm, as she held in her hand the crown.

 
She walked up with purpose in nothing but her under garments, to the first run down and rickety house she did see.

She began to knock on its door repeatedly.
Soon, her efforts did pay off, as she was greeted with a kind, friendly, warm smile of a poor elderly cobbler.

He welcomed her inside and gave her a
Nice, hot cup of tea. Then lit a fire in the fireplace, so she could warm her feet. 


He called out to his daughter, who came

running into the room excitedly. She couldn't believe the fact, that in her father's living quarters, sat their Queen.


The Queen presented the young girl, with her dress and crown for her to keep, in exchange for something simple to wear and anything they could spare for her to eat. She then plucked out the jewelled pins that held her long, styled hair in place.


Gifting them to the girl and smiled, to see the surprised and delighted expression appear on her face. 


The Queen was grateful when the girl showed her to a basic room that had a bed made from only hay bales, spread with a hand woven mat where a blanket would normally be. 


A welcoming change from knowing only the sensation of lying asleep alone on a bed big enough for both her and a non-existing King that comes with being born into a lavish life.


In one corner of the room, sat a wooden spinning wheel. Thinking of all the thread she could make and sell, to the village people in order to help out around the house.


The energy that she had lost from running frantically through the night, finally caught up with the Queen. The result was her falling into a deep sleep.


The Queen slept so deeply, that she didn't dream. Waking up refreshed the next morning, she went over to a hand carved wooden basin that was filled with water that the cobbler's daughter had bought in for her. With a sigh of contentment, she washed her face.

Before walking over to the spinning wheel. The wooden stool on which she sat, a long forgotten familiar homey comfort compared to the velvet cushioned seat of her Throne.


In the small dimly sunlit room, she had found what it meant to truly be happy. A different kind of safe and secure place, compared to the heavily guarded Palace. Of the only life she'd ever known. At last she was finally able to feel at Home.

All morning, the Queen worked spinning by hand the thread. Stopping only in the afternoon to briefly wander the village, speak, get to know her people and sell the yarn she made in exchange for homemade loaves of bread. Which, with the cobbler and his daughter she did share.

She enjoys it here among the gold deprived yet grateful for everything they have, dwellers. In community spirit and care for one another, the peasants are richer than she had ever been. Such kinship to her eyes, was such a moving scene.

Here in this lonely and forgotten place, she felt like she belonged. At long last for her to finally be rid of the everyday rat race.


She came to the realisation that there was more meaning to life, than simply just being alive.

In this small town village and in her basic peasant gown she for once after what felt like the longest time, felt comfortable not having to worry about any Royal duties, regulations and expectations weighing her down.


She loved living incognito among her subjects, where she was unrecognised yet appreciated and loved for who she is to those who passed her by. In this place, she was neither lesser or greater than your or I.

She was merely, an equal.

She relished every moment of not having false friendships or having to worry where loyalties lie that come with court just because her title was, "Her Majesty, the Queen." Here, in this little forgotten town she could finally let her guard down.

To finally just be herself. A fellow fair sweet maiden, to be free. Known only to others by her birth name, 
Irene . A name that by definition and Greek origin, means, Peace.

- Alexandra Pierotti.


   







   

 
 

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