Simina lounged lazily on her bedding with her window open, letting the cool, crisp air float in from the outside as the late afternoon sun leaked through the curtains. She laid on her belly, stretched out across her bed, elbows propped up, holding her face up with her hands. Her legs swung up and down, gently swaying in the air.
Simina hummed to herself as she gazed out the window, watching the bustling village unfold from the confines of her little house. Every now and then, a cool, gentle breeze wafted in, sweeping across Simina's face, and she'd close her eyes each time to relax into it.
Simina enjoyed autumn. She found the crisp, chilly breezes of October and November refreshing. (In the Zormonian language, October and November translate to Zobore and Zovere). Spring and summer were too hot, and winter was too cold, so autumn was the season where the weather was just right. But most of all, she loved to watch the leaves change color. She didn't like all the green shrubbery. Too much green for her taste.
Simina liked more of a variety. She loved the pretty autumn colors of red, orange, purple, and yellow. Seeing the leaves on the trees like that is what she described as perfectly picturesque.
She glanced back down at the page in her book and continued reading her book she'd just received from the library. The pages were yellowed, and the edges of them were slightly frayed from being read by many. Her eyes glued to the words as they scrolled each sentence, reading them:
“The story of the Dark Prince is not an old one. In fact, it's quite new. He's part of Lazerian folklore, recently discovered, which gave me the idea to write this book. Before I continue, I assure you that this is not just some legend. The Dark Prince is very real. He's a master of disguise. His dark powers lead you on the path of temptation. Don't dare to seek him out, for the Dark Prince will know. Never wander too far, for the Dark Prince is always close at hand.
Do not be deceived by his charm and handsomeness. For he only aims to trick you. The Dark Prince possesses such an evil, dark magic, it'll taint your soul just by being in his presence. When he walks, he leaves a trail of dead flowers in his wake. He leaves a trail of dark, shimmering purple smoke billowing behind him. Never look him in the eye. His eyes are such a mystifying, lavish purple that even one look at them will make you entranced. His eyes are terrifyingly beautiful.
The Dark Prince will lure you in to trick you into doing his evil bidding. Don't be fooled, my friends. Don't be fooled. He hones a dark and mystical power in which he uses to bestow curses. He's out there somewhere, my reader. Beware, reader. Beware.”
Below the passage, just under it, was a hand drawn picture of a man. The man drawn was indeed very attractive, with black hair, very tall, and dressed in some sort of black clothing. But the small passage gave Simina the chills. A dark feeling crept in upon her. Simina tore her eyes away from the book, and wrapped her arms around herself, shakily holding herself. This book was unlike any other legend or myth she'd ever read.
Any other story she read assured her that it wasn't real. But this book insisted that the story of the Dark Prince was real. Simina shook her head, and closed the book. That's just silly,she told herself, It can't be real. It's not real.
Simina knew she shouldn't be scared. She told herself it wasn't real, over and over again, but something inside of her kept contradicting that. She hand no idea why, but this “story,” didn't feel like just a story. Deep down inside, she actually believed it might be real.
But curious Simina, just like always, opened the book again. She wanted to know more. So Simina flipped past chapter one, and read on with hunger in her eyes. Simina nervously nibbled on her fingernails, chewing all of them simultaneously. She figured if the Dark Prince truly existed, she ought to know about him, so if she ever crossed paths with the Prince, she'd be prepared for anything. So, she read on.
“The Dark Prince lives in the outskirts of the village Lazera, in the Snowy Hills. His Dark Castle sits upon the largest, tallest snowy hill, towering over everything, casting a shadow over the lands. Inside live gruesome and grotesque beings of his dark creations.
He prefers to live in cold climates, and cloaks himself in all black. This Prince, isn't the type of Prince you read about in fairy tales. The Dark Prince is an evil prince. He leaves a dark path of destruction.
He seems to suddenly appear out of nowhere. The Dark Prince has the ability to appear and disappear anywhere he wants, just like teleportation. He arrives in a swirl of dark purple smoke, and disappears in a puff of more dark purple smoke.
No other man can best him in combat, specifically for this one reason: he wields an enchanted sword, only meant for his use. If ever wielded by another man, the blade will turn on the man wielding it because of its enchantments. Never touch his sword.
The Dark Prince of Lazera is really of royal blood. His title is not false. He comes from a line of rich royals, going back thousands of years. Once his father, the king, dies, the Prince will inherit the throne, as is his right, by being the only and eldest son and child. The Dark Royal Family rules over Lazera. Once the Prince takes the throne, Lazera will be his kingdom to rule over until he dies. There is nothing we can do to stop him. He is too powerful.
There are two parts of Lazera. The right side of Lazera, and the left side. The Dark Castle is right smack in the middle of both parts, but just a tad closer to the right side than the left. Now, the right side of Lazera, acknowledges the existence of the Dark Prince, and his rule. But the left side, does not believe in him at all. His rule is not as prominent here as it is there. No one on the left side has ever seen him, so therefore, do not believe he exists.
But, the people of the left side will, soon enough, soon enough.”
Simina heard her father's tromping footsteps enter the house, but she still continued to read, not paying any attention to his feet. He walked towards her room, and stopped in her doorway. Simina kept reading, not noticing her father's presence.
“Simina!” He raised his voice. Simina jumped, startled by his shout, and flipped her body around, twisting herself to look at him.
“Yes, father?” she answered shakily, her mind slightly fuzzy from reading for a really long time.
“Why aren't you doing your chores?” he asks her sternly. Simina scratched her head quizzically.
“Um...I was um...I was reading,” Simina stuttered, biting her bottom lip. Her father shook his head, but she saw a hint of a smile on his lips.
“Stop filling your mind with that foul mess! It's not going to do you any good,” her father told her. Simina, leaving the book open, climbed off her bed. She stared at her father expectantly.
“Go take care of Winona,” he ordered her. With a sigh, Simina walked past her father, and he stepped aside. Before she went out, she put on her warm, fuzzy brown cloak, with a hood. She clipped it together at her throat, and went out into the chilly air.
She walked gaily over to their stables, around the side of the house. Winona was their horse; or rather, Simina's horse since she rode it sometimes. Yes, that was another thing Simina liked to do when she couldn't read, fantasize, or play with Ernest. She liked to ride her horse through the woods, feel the wind in her hair, the breeze on her face.
Her father bought Winona a few short months after her mother had passed. He did it to cheer her up, and it worked. Simina would ride Winona every day. But, it's been a few years, about five, and Winona was aging. But Winona was still in good health, and fit for many more rides.
Simina opened the stables, where Winona resided, crunching and munching on some hay. Most of the ground was covered in hay. Winona was a smoky gray horse, with fleck of white spotting her skin. She was a pretty horse, and Simina liked her very much. She walked up to Winona, and placed a hand on her mane.
The horse whinnied, and straightened her head, chewing the hay. She picked up her brush from where it hung on the wall, and put it on her hand. She began to gently brush Winona's fur, brushing out all the fleas and mange. Simina cleaned her hooves out, and replaced her horseshoes with new ones. From time to time, her mind tended to wander. She thought about Ernest, and what he would be doing right now. Probably out in the woods, climbing trees.
She yearned to go back inside and read her book. She wanted to dream. She enjoyed sitting isolated in her room, curled up on her bed, reading a good book. Life just seemed like one big dream to Simina, just a really long dream that she didn't want to wake up from.
After brushing through Winona's fur, she stroked through her long, silky mane. It was soft. Simina petted her, and laid her head against the horse, hugging her around the neck. Winona huffed, and nuzzled Simina lovingly. With a giggle, Simina pulled away, and scratched Winona behind the ears.
Before she left, she fed her some hay, gave her fresh water, and threw a warm blanket over her to keep her warm for the night. She scratched Winona under her chin, and then left the stables. Simina returned to her house, where her father waited for her. Her dad was in the washroom, which was right across from her bedroom.
He stood at the pump sink, pumping water out, washing the dirt and grime from his hands. Simina watched as her father splashed water on his face, and started sputtering. Simina started laughing, trying to hold it back, but not succeeding. When he heard her laughing, he looked up at her, and narrowed his eyes. Simina covered her mouth, stifling her laughter.
He grunted at her, and wiped his face off with a clean rag. He tromped towards her. Simina stared up at him.
“We need groceries from the market,” he grumbled at her. Simina doddled into her room, twiddling her fingers.
“Mmm. Okay.” She sat on her bed. Her dad, stood in her doorway. Simina's hand inched towards her open book.
“Can you go get them?” He handed her a list. Simina quickly snatched it out of his hand and stuffed it in her coat pocket without looking at it.
“Yeah. Can I read for a little while?” she asked him, eyeing her book, eyeing the black inked words. Simina wanted to glue her eyes to the words and never take them away from the page. Her dad lumbered back into the washroom.
“Uh huh,” he mumbled. Simina turned eagerly to her book and began to read. She'd read at least only a paragraph, when her dad asked her,
“What is it that you're reading anyways?” Simina looked up from the words, surprised that her dad would even ask. She noticed that he was standing next to her, trying to make out the words on the spine. Simina shrugged.
“Nothing. Just a book.” He never paid any attention to anything she read. Simina went back to her reading, and casually turned a page, one hand holding her chin up.
“What's it called?” Her father lifted up the cover, trying to read what it said, but Simina gently pushed it back down. He'd disturbed the pages, and therefore, disturbed Simina's place on the sentence she was currently reading. It took her a while to finally respond, but when she did, Simina said, in a dream like state,
“The Dark Prince.” She flipped a page. Her father's face went dead white. Simina, however, paid no mind. Her father, whose name was Gregory, by the way, had heard of the legend. He did not approve of his daughter reading about this sort of thing.
Without a second thought, he snatched the book from right under her nose, and slammed it shut. Simina, startled, stood up in protest. She lunged for the book, but her father held it out of her arm's reach.
“Hey! Give that back!” Simina shrieked. Gregory gave her a look of disapproval.
“Why are you reading such a foul book?” Gregory spat. Simina's lips tightened.
“It's not foul! Now give it back!” She reached for it again, but he would not let her have it.
“You should not taint your soul with such darkness.” He gave the book a look of revulsion. Simina frowned. Why does her father care all of a sudden what she reads? He never cared before, why does he care now?
“Father, please! It's just a book!” Simina protested. Gregory held it out in front of her, but still out of reach.
“I forbid you to read this book!” he told Simina. Rage boiled within Simina.
“What's it to you? It's just a stupid book! It isn't even real!” Simina shouted, stomping her foot. Even though Simina said that, she didn't know if she really believed that or not.
Angry and frustrated, Simina took off without another word to her dad, sick of his judgment. It's just a book! she thought. What harm can come out of reading a book? Shaking her head, she grabbed her grocery basket that she always left sitting by the front door, and stormed out of her house.
Huffing, she pulled up the hood of her cloak, and stomped through town towards the market place. The cool wind blew at her face, whipping through her clothes, chilling her skin. Shivering, Simina pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, snuggling herself up. What felt earlier like a cool, refreshing breeze, now felt like a bitter cold chill. Rubbing her hands together, she blew out a breath, teeth chattering.
Simina's breath vaporized into the air like a puff of white cloud. Hugging herself, she walked into town.