The Prince in the Tower: A Short Story
I have lived in the tower since the age of three; the memories of the castle are vague, offering flashes of clattering hooves, cobbled streets, and silk banners.
I remember a woman with auburn hair and a green gown: she can only be my mother, though we haven't spoken since I've been taken.
It started with a witch. Doesn't it always? I don't know what she was after - if it was eternal youth, money, or even just loneliness.
She captured me for a period of two days and, though my father retrieved me, it was too late.
I was cursed.
Every night, I become a ravenous beast. My ginger hair grows out, curling into coarse fur along my ridged back. My mouth becomes a snout, my nails claws; only my eyes, a smooth blue, remain unchanged.
Lycanthropy is a rare disease, occurring every full moon...but I make the change each night.
I was sent away following the injury of a servant; I was told, through a missive when I grew older, that she had been taken by the curse. The knights had been tasked with killing her.
At the time, I'd still been hoping the extent of my damage had ended with the hand I'd taken from her.
What made my case stranger was the witch's choice in target. I remember my older sister, a girl with hair like molten gold and eyes as clear as the sky.
Witches always take the princess...but my witch was unusual. She wanted a prince, and so she took me. They still won't tell me why.
You don't hear of many princes locked in towers...but there's an exception to every rule. Pigeons deliver my meals, and enchanted thorns keep the world from intruding...and me from leaving.
I try not to think about what would happen if our castle fell. I guess I would die; nobody knows I'm here. A lump forms in my throat.
The missives are rare. Mother never writes to me. Father sends me occasional news of my sister: she's getting married now. I don't know if she's happy, or scared, or even if she wishes I could attend the wedding.
It's been months. If not for the delivery of clothes and food, I'd think everyone was dead.
Two days pass, and the usual pigeon doesn't arrive. I have three apples and a package of nuts set aside in case of bad weather, but they won't last long.
On the fifth day, my stores are gone. On the eighth day, I know I have no choice: I have to escape this tower...or wait to die.
