In which we meet a sad princess

Jezebel was unhappy today. Her father had taken great pains to find her appropriate suitors, and they were lined up outside, waiting for her to arrive. Her maids had fussed over every aspect of her being. They had braided her hair elegantly. They had lined her eyes with kohl, supposedly a new fashion that made women irresistible. They had dressed her up in a dress so layered that she could hardly waddle, let alone walk. But it was no use. Jezebel was not going out to her line of suitors, and that was final. She sat by the window and pouted.

“Jezebel! What do you think you are doing, child?” An impatient, masculine voice carried from the door. “You are needed, and needed now!”

“I’m not coming, father, and that is that. I’m just going to sit here at my window all day, and there is nothing you or anyone else can say or do to get me to leave.”

“Would you care to make a bet out of it?” The voice responded, this time full of anger and frustration. Jezebel didn’t really like to make her dad mad. After all, he was probably the only man who would ever love her, but she just couldn’t find the courage to leave, and see all those handsome young men gape and gag at her.

“I’m not coming!” she said one more time.

September 11th, 2008

In which we meet a sad princess

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