In case you missed last week’s post, this is part two of my re-imagining of The Princess and the Pea. You can find part one here. If you like it, let me know! I’m still not sure if I should post more of them here… 

art by One Color Rainbow

Princess Mirabelle stopped yawning abruptly as she rounded the corner to the guest suite behind the Queen. Apparently, Queen Isabella had emptied her kingdom of mattresses and featherbeds and deposited them all on top of the bed in this particular room. Either that or she was a big time home décor hoarder with a soft spot for bedding. She really is absurd, the Princess thought as she smiled sweetly at her host. “You didn’t have to go to all of this trouble,” she said.

“Oh, no trouble at all,” said the suddenly amiable Queen. “We wouldn’t want our guest to be uncomfortable!” she added with a little too much enthusiasm. Mmmmmhmmm, thought the well-read Princess.

The moment goodnights were wished and the Queen’s footsteps (was she skipping?) faded down the hall, Mirabelle lifted the bottom mattress, slowly slid her hand (the same hand that Prince Oliver had kissed before disappearing to bed) underneath and removed one fat, green pea.

I’m trying something new today. It’s different and a little bit weird, but so am I so I decided it’s ok. 😉

I used to write short stories regularly, but life happened and I stopped. Lately I’ve been reading more and missing creating my own little worlds, so I decided to do something about it.

This little story (a reimagined version of The Princess and the Pea) is my first stab at short story writing since college. I’m rusty, but it feels good…

illustration by Michele Frechette

Once upon a time there was a prince who was handsome in the quirky sort of way that all the ladies love. Slightly goofy, he had a knowing smile and eyes that twinkled brightly with mischief.

Tired of dating princesses with a portfolio full of duck-lipped selfies, he decided to try to find the lady of his dreams on a new dating site called R Date (“Where royals meet, mingle and marry!”). Much to the disappointment of his parents—who were eager to get him out of the castle basement and have a grandchild or two to brag to their friends about—the prince was still unattached.

In fact, his mother was currently harping on it rather relentlessly over the royal dinner table. The sound of rain pelting against the castle windows at a regular beat only served to enforce her drill sergeant-like demeanor. There was a lot of pacing and stern facial expressions accompanied with emphatic arm movements as she went on about royal bloodlines and “the way things were done.” He wondered if an eye roll would end the conversation more quickly or result in a prolonged discussion with a lecture on proper princely etiquette tacked on.