Fingertips: Who Is That Standing At My Window?

Fingertips: A Flash Experiment, is a project where I’m writing a different flash story for each bit of the They Might Be Giants’ “Fingertips” songs from Apollo 18. See info here.

Who Is That Standing At My Window?

Princess Penelope Peppermint was the softest, prettiest, most delicate princess in the land. Knights flocked to the land to prove themselves with dragon slaying. Dragons flocked to the land to snack on all the knights who sought to slay them. Fairies blessed and cursed her daily.

Her delicate sensibilities were tested frequently. Grocers sent vegetables to hide under her mattress to see how fragile she was, and she would frequently wake up with bruises from the peas, nuts, orange seeds, and strawberry seeds left in her bed.

Her hair was long and raven, he eyes were sapphire, her skin alabaster. Her feet were dainty and her fingers long. She was a perfect princess.

“We have to do something about her,” said the queen to the king one day. She came from a barbarian land; the only thing the king had had to do to win her was defeat her in combat. And he would never know this, but she had let him win.

She had tried to encourage their daughter to pick up a knife or bow, to run through the countryside with the other children of the castle, or for the sake of all the gods just to get dirty. But her perfect princess would have none of it.

“I know it pains you to see a daughter so unlike yourself, my dearest,” said the king, spreading salve on a bruise left from their last enthusiastic lovemaking session. “But she has to be her own person.”

The queen nodded and gazed out the window. Her eyes caught on the shadow that slipped over the castle wall; it would have gone unnoticed except she knew what to look for. The figure was enshrouded in black and seemed to muscle light out of the way. It was a good spell- one of the more subtle ones her people had mastered.

The princess’ window was two down from where the queen sat. She saw the figure pause as if counting, then continue. A grappling hook shot out of the darkness and landed with a chunk at her daughter’s window. She coughed to hide the sound from her husband, who droned on.

It went quickly from there. A climb up the wall. A muffled scream. The figure reappeared at the foot of the wall, holding a bundle, and stole back from where they had come. The queen smiled.

“I’m sorry, darling, can you repeat that?” she asked.

“I said,” answered the king, “not everyone can be as strong, brave, and passionate as my beloved.”

“I wasn’t always like that, my dear. My people have a ritual to kidnap children in the night and take them to an island off the southern coast. The children are left there with minimal supplies and forced to survive. They are hunted by men, chased by wolves, and must survive for three days straight. There we learned the benefit of a good knife over beautiful hair, clean water over chilled wine, and a safe sleeping place over a soft one. It was life-changing, and it is why my people are so strong.”

He came over and kissed her on the lips. “I’m glad our daughter doesn’t have to go through that.”

She smiled back at him. “Mm. So am I.”

#

Princess Penelope Peppermint had never felt so dirty in all her life. Her face was streaked with tears and snot from where the bag on her head had smeared them. Her dress had been ripped and sweat stung her armpits and under her breasts. She had been in the back of a wagon and felt road dust stick to her skin, abrading it. She felt disgusting.

The disgust was so paramount that the fear of being kidnapped, raped, murdered, or worse was a distant second. But she was not abused, beyond the rope that dug into her delicate wrists and ankles, so she waited, weeping at her sorry state, waiting to see what would happen to her.

Her captor did not speak. Not during the wagon ride, or during the small boat ride. He helped her out of the boat to step into ankle deep water, soaking and ruining her delicate leather boots. She gasped at the horrible squelchy feeling as she stumbled onto the sand.

Her captor spoke, pushing her by the shoulders onto her knees in the sand. “Now, you will be here for three days. You must survive. People will try to hurt you, and there are wolves on this island. Find safety. Defend yourself. Make your mother proud.”

The accent was that of her mother’s. She sat in shock as the captor put a knife in bound hands and ran off. She heard him get back into the boat and paddle away.

She wept a little more, thinking of the lessons her mother had taught her. After much fumbling and two nicks, she freed herself from her ropes and pulled the bag off her head. Her hair was a tangled mess.

She looked around. She was on one of the southern islands. Her home was far, if traveling by foot, to the north. Night was falling the wolves began howling. She’d need shelter soon.

“Mother, how could you?” she wept. After allowing herself to feel the grief and betrayal a moment longer, she reached up with the knife and sawed off her hair, leaving a jagged bob. She then used the knife to cut most of her dress away, then cut the fabric into long strands for rope. She slung it around her shoulder and arm and slipped the knife between her teeth.

As she dove into the surf to leave the island, she smiled. Her mother had only thought she hadn’t been listening during those lessons. Perfect Princess Penelope Peppermint had banked her whole life on being underestimated. She just hadn’t guessed the first person to surprise with her skills would be her beloved mother.

Get ready, Mother. I’m coming home.

This is released under a Creative Commons Attribution-Non-Commercial-Share Alike license.

Fingertips 5 – Who’s That Standing (LP Version)

Fingertips: A Flash Experiment by Mur Lafferty is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.