I stumbled upon her quite by accident. Unaware of her tragic past history, I was afraid, I’d woken her up. Not for the first time had my blundering threatened to bring about misfortune. Luckily, she didn’t move. She looked so peaceful as she lay there in the hills, her regular breathing conveying a feeling that all was well with the world.
Of course, I was captivated. Who wouldn’t have been after contemplating those wine-red lips, that alabaster face framed by her ebony strands. I knelt down beside her and stared. As long as she didn’t wake up, I was safe. She seemed to beckon to me. Was it an illusion? I leant over and lowering myself inch by inch, barely brushed her lips with mine.
As I did so, she opened her eyes and smiled. I returned the smile. She blinked but the words her lips were beginning to form refused to come out. That she was puzzled, was evident. She blinked again before finally managing:
“But you’re not my prince!”
No, I was no prince. Sure, I may have had his charm, but that was about all. However, we still lived happily ever after, despite my blundering.