Sleeping Beauty 2 1

The names, characters, places and events in this story are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. All characters are over the age of 18. Any similarities to real persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

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Once upon a time, long ago, Prince Arthur swung down from his horse and looked up at a towering barrier before him. Fully one hundred feet high stood the hedge, or wall, of briers. The myriad thorns were each a foot long and sharp as razors and the tangled hedgerow was impenetrable. Looking up, above the top of the barrier he could just discern the battlements at the top of a tower. He took his sword and hacked at a branch but it was as if the wood was made of iron and his blade merely nicked it.

He stepped back and watched as a stooped old man in a leather jerkin carrying a bundle of firewood approached. The peasant tugged off his cap and saluted.

"You are here because of the legend, sire?" the old man asked.

"The legend of the beautiful woman held in a magical sleep who can only be awakened by a kiss of a handsome Prince? And then she will marry her rescuer? I know it, that's why I'm here."

But nothing would stop the wizened old man. The Prince sighed and prepared to listen.

"My grandfather's grandfather was alive when this happened. The palace yonder was a place of light and laughter and gaiety. And no expense was spared to celebrate of the birth of the King and Queen's beloved only daughter. For their Naming Ceremony, they invited everyone of renown within a hundred leagues. They even invited twelve good fairies..."

"We call them LGBTQ+ now," Prince Arthur corrected him.

"...But missed out the one bad fairy. At the feast, the fairies gave their gifts.

"'She will be beautiful,' said the first.

"'She will dance like a ballerina,' said the second.

"'She will sing like a lark,' said the third.

"'She will be kind and generous,' said the fourth.

"Eleven of the good fairies had given the gifts when, in a cloud of black smoke, the thirteenth bad fairy appeared.

"'On her eighteenth birthday, she will prick her finger on a spindle and die,' cackled the evil one. Then she vanished back into the reeking fumes."

Prince Arthur glanced at the sun and tried not to yawn.

"Everybody gasped with horror and wept. Then the twelfth fairy stepped forwards. 'Do not weep; I cannot completely cancel that spell but instead of dying, she will sleep deeply for a hundred years until she is awakened by the kiss of a handsome Prince, whom she will marry,' said the last good fairy as she waved her wand.

"The King and Queen thanked the fairy but after the feast, they ordered that every spinning wheel in the Kingdom be destroyed.

"Yet, on the morning of her eighteenth birthday, before the banquet, she went exploring the palace until she came across a dusty, disused attic in an old tower. There was a strange object in the attic and, without thinking, she touched it, pricked her finger and fell asleep."

"The King and Queen never organized a thorough search of their own residence? Very efficient," muttered Prince Arthur.

The old peasant glared at him.

"So they took their daughter's sleeping body and placed it in her bed at the top of the very tallest tower. Then a magical hedge of thorns grew up all around it to protect her until it was time for her to be awakened." With that, the man finished his tale.

"Then I will try to breach the hedgerow and see if I can free her from this curse," declared Prince Arthur.

"Many have tried and all have failed," the old man warned.

With that he walked fearlessly up to the tall hedgerow. This time, as he began to push against the thorns, every thorn turned into a fragrant rose and a narrow gap opened to let him pass through. In this way, he penetrated the thick barrier and saw a tall, white tower ahead. He walked over the lawn before it, pushed open a thick oaken door and climbed a narrow staircase, lit only by arrow slits. Finally, he reached a chamber at the top. As he entered, his skin prickled with the powerful magic protecting the bedroom.

Lying on a divan in the center of the room slept the most beautiful maiden he had ever seen. Her hands lay folded across her chest which rose and fell as she breathed. In them, she held a single red rose. Awed by the sight, he knelt by her side and watched as she breathed in and out in her sleep.

Sleeping Beauty wore a gauzy, white, low-cut nightgown which showed off her flawless alabaster skin. She had lustrous black hair which had been neatly brushed and lay either side of her head on the pillow. Her eyebrows and lashes were also dark while her full ruby lips were just awaiting a prince's kiss. Diamond studs glinted in her ears.

Through the thin nightgown, he could just discern her pink nipples and areolas as her small breasts rose and fell. There was a dimple in the cloth over her belly button and, still lower down; he made out the darker, triangular patch of her pubic hair covering the swell of her mound at the cleft of her long legs. The nightgown ended mid-calf revealing her delicate ankles and feet. He glanced up at the narrow window slit and it seemed as if the world was holding its breath, waiting for him to embrace and kiss the beautiful Princess and release her from the enchantment so she could marry him. No sounds reached him from outside.

He leaned forwards and lowered his head until his lips were barely a half inch from hers. Then he paused for a moment before standing. He shook his head.

"This isn't right. This is hardly informed consent," he said to himself. "It all feels a bit, well... rapey."

With that, Prince Arthur stood and walked back down the tower's stairs, crossed the lawn and, reluctantly, the hedge opened to let him leave. Behind him the roses turned back to cruel thorns. Back on the other side of the hedgerow, he swung up onto his steed.

"Where's Sleeping Beauty? Where's the Princess?" asked the aged peasant.

"Still up in yonder tower. I'm sure some other Prince will be along to release her soon," he said. With that, Prince Arthur flicked the reins and his horse trotted away.

Prince Arthur never married. Instead he bought several fast horses. He bought a boat. He bought a drum kit. He drank pitchers of beer in bars with his buddies on Friday and Saturday nights and flirted with the waitresses. When he needed to, he jerked himself off until he went cross-eyed. He vacationed south of the border or the Islands. He went hunting and fishing and bragged about the one that got away. He lowered his golf handicap. He played late-nite poker. He collected risqué old etchings. He never picked up after himself and never lowered the toilet seat and never got scolded for it neither. He never ever heard of yoga or Pilates. He had no strong opinion on home décor or soft furnishings. He never had to put up with some nagging shrew of a mother-in-law. He scratched and belched and farted. He washed his coloreds with his whites and couldn't care less. He forgot to pay bills. He went to festivals. He ate pizza and cheeseburgers with fries and sausage biscuits but he rarely ate fruit or vegetables. He died aged seventy with his arteries all furred up but he went out with a smile on his face and a whiskey in his hand.

So he lived happily ever after anyway.

The End.