Random Freestyle Writing

Scotty comes every morning at dawn and every evening at dusk for a fortnight. On the fourteenth dusk, he asks me, "Are you happy here?" I have to think about that question. Though I am in a dungeon--a dirty, dusty, dark dungeon--I never go hungry, and he has supplied me with a straw mattress to sleep on and blankets to cover myself with to keep out some of the cold. Also, over the past fortnight, I have grown to trust him; I have even grown fond of him. "I"m not specifically happy, but I"m not unhappy," I say at last. "I mean, you"ve supplied me with the essential needs for survival, so I can"t be unhappy, but I"m still being held captive in a dungeon. I think it would be inconceivable for me to be happy here." "Do you think that if you weren"t in this dungeon you could be happy?" I have to think about this question as well. Could I be jubilant here if it weren"t for this oubliette? "I may be," I say quietly. Scotty is silent for a little bit. I"m afraid he"s going to leave. I have grown to enjoy his company, and I look forward to it every day. "Princess Nessa, please follow me," he stands up and hold out a hand. I take it warily and follow him out of the dungeon. He pulls me by the arm up a spiral flight of stairs, leading out of the dust and gloom. I stop walking when we reach the top of the stairs. We are in a room far grander than I would have thought possible in this small, rural kingdom. The walls are white with golden markings close to the floor all around the room. The floor is made of wild cherry wood and there is a rug on the wood in front of two thrones. The thrones are made of mahogany and one is taller than the other. This must be the McNeil throne room; there"s nothing else it could be. "My mother and father sat there eight years ago, and I sit there now. Continue walking," Scotty says quickly. He pulls me along again, up another flight of stairs. We reach a hallway lined with about eight doors. Every door has a copper plaque on it, identifying whose room it is. He leads me to the end of the hallway and opens a door. The room is very small compared to the throne room, but I suppose the throne room is the largest room in the entire castle--probably even in the entire kingdom. The walls are a faded pink color, and the wild cherry wood floor is mostly covered in a threadbare rug of light blue. A bed was in the corner of the room; the blankets are light pink and there is a feather pillow the color of ivory with a golden embroidered pattern. There is also a mahogany wardrobe and rocking chair. I can"t help but wonder why so many of the wooden things I"ve seen here are made of either mahogany or wild cherry wood. Scotty steps inside the room and motions with his hand for me to come in, too. I stroll in a bit warily, not quite sure what"s going to happen. "I believe you will find this room satisfactory," he says blandly, still standing in the doorway. With that single statement, I piece it all together, and I"m filled with happiness. "You mean this is mine?" I turn back to him and smile. Scotty nods once, "You told me that you were not happy in the dungeon. I am not a monster; if you are going to be staying a while, I might as well make you comfortable." I hug him and kiss him on the cheek. "Thank you," I say and look up at him. His eyes are wide in shock and he looks taken aback. "Sorry," I mumble, stepping away from him. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but closes it. He tries a few more times, and finally gives up. He turns on his heel and strolls out of the room swiftly, closing the door behind him. I want to go after him, but I fear he"s angry with me. Instead, I sit down on the rocking chair and stare out the window for a bit. Dozens of thoughts rush through my head as I stare out at a view not dissimilar to the one I saw in the dungeon. What if I messed everything up? What if I made him angry? Will he throw me back in the dungeon? No, of course he won"t; it was just a kiss on the cheek! Well, if he"s not angry, then why did he leave so suddenly? Oh, stop worrying, he just doesn"t like me that way. He isn"t fond of me; and why should he be? He is my captor; he is holding me as prisoner in his castle! My thoughts continue like this for a very long time. The next thing I know, I am waking up. I don"t even know when I had fallen asleep! The door opens and I expect Scotty to come in, but a small girl rushes in. She is facing the ground and all I can see is her tangled mess of light brown hair. She is holding in her hands a tray of food. "Princess Nessa O"Shea," she says timidly, looking up at me. She has tanned skin and big brown eyes; she"s no older than maybe ten or eleven. "Scotty has told me to bring this up to you. He sends his apologies that he could not bring it himself, but he is very busy." When I reach for the tray, she cringes away from me, as though afraid I"ll hit her. "What"s wrong?" I ask her gently. "Scotty has told me many things about your family. He has said you are a violent people." The girl can"t quite meet my eyes. "He has told me many times about how Alby O"Shea killed his parents." "You"re frightened of me," I say with realization. I kneel down in front of her and look at her calmly. "What"s your name?" "Rowan Connell, miss," the young girl, Rowan, curtsies nervously, not taking her eyes off me. "Well, Rowan, it is true that my people are violent," if what Scotty has said about my father is true, then my people really are violent, "but I am not like them. I have never hurt anyone and I have no plans to do so. Do you understand?" "You"re not like them?" Rowan repeats. I shake my head. She eyes me skeptically for a moment before nodding slowly. She hands me the tray of food and walks out. After I eat the food--a bowl of potato soup and some bread--I quickly dress in one of the many dresses in the wardrobe. They are all servants" gowns, but I need no help getting them on as I do ball gowns. I throw on a shamrock-green dress that fits tightly around my torso but falls loosely and limply from my hips to my ankles. I quickly tie a green ribbon--also from the wardrobe--around my hair and head out the door. My footsteps are reticent because my shoes had fallen apart in the dungeon, so I am barefooted. The wooden floor is cool under my feet as I walk slowly down the hallway. Each of the doors is open except for one. This door has a plaque that reads: "Nessa Tallula O"Shea." Why is my name on this door? I wonder. Curiosity gets the better of me and I slowly open the door. Before I can even open the door enough to get a good look, Scotty comes up behind me and grabs my arm. He pulls me away from the room and down the stairs. "You shouldn"t have tried that," he says to me as he walks. He seems nervous and angry. "Why does that door have my name on it?" I demand, pulling my arm out of his grasp. "Alby O"Shea really didn"t tell you anything, did he?" "Let"s assume not," I say firmly. "Now, tell me, Scotty; why is my name on that door?" "Before you were born, our two families were friends. They wanted to join the two kingdoms. I was betrothed to you before I was even three years old. You were betrothed before you were even born. Then, when you were born, my father saw that you were not what he wanted me to wed. He came up with many excuses as to why I should not marry you: your skin was too pale for Birr, your eyes were too light for the McNeil family, or you were too small. He told your mother this, and when she tried to reason with him, well... my father had a short temper; he killed your mother, Alannah, and began the long feud between our kingdoms." He pauses a moment before continuing, "Your name is on that plaque because my mother had a servant make that room for you for once we were married. I don"t like people going in there to remind me of what should have been." He sounds wistful, and looks at me a moment before walking off.