I am Briar Rose, officially named Aurora (or Princess Aurora), best known in local folklore as Sleeping Beauty. I was born into a wonderful royal family, doted upon by not only my parents but my guardians, the three good fairies, and an entire kingdom of loyal subjects. I was even betrothed to a prince. I was blessed with supernatural gifts of beauty and song; however, as the stereotypical story unfolds, I am also cursed: upon the eve of my 16th birthday, I shall prick my finger and fall into a deep sleep until true love’s kiss awakens me.
To counter the spell I was sent to the forest to be raised by the fairies (acting mortally) until the threat had passed. I was taught to be quite tame and gentle, traits that come naturally having been by myself for so long; only the three women and the animals keep me company.
But now... now things have changed.
It’s the 14th Century and the evening of my 16th birthday, before the supposéd death sentence comes into effect. They’ve dressed me up in a poufy gown and suddenly they want me to get married! Well, I want to get married too, but not to some stranger in a starched prince costume, but to the man I love, the man I have been dreaming of since the day we danced in the wood. It seems like yesterday, and it was, but the connection we shared was worth this escape I’m planning. Fate has a hold on me no longer. The fairies and the royalty, as dear as they are, have lied to me for 16 years and it’s about time I take fate and life into my own hands.
I’m in the upper room of the castle where my “parents” are keeping me until they march me down the aisle. I’ve finally been left alone to try and process some of this, and I am not going to sit here even a moment longer than I have to. I am running away.
The castle walls are cold stone, bare and cage-like. One heavy and barred door is just behind me to the left, the only way in or out of this room. The fairies are somewhere on the other side but I don’t know where they’ve gone or how long they plan to stay away. The entirety of my life in the homely country cottage has been condensed to three cardboard boxes in the corner. Before me is a large mirror, and all I can see is the stupid dress they have draped me in, and the crown on my head – a symbol of imprisonment and death, as far as I am concerned. They keep talking about a spinning wheel? Who cares? I just want to get back to the forest before he gets there; it is with that boy, that man, that my happily ever after lies.
I am collecting all of the things I need to get back to the cottage – shall, basket with some key food supplies, comfortable shoes (trading my heels in for flats), and a candle, which I can’t find. I know I have to leave ASAP to avoid being recaptured, but I need the light to be able to find my way back, not that I really know the way. As the time moves along, I get more panicked, starting to talk out the rushed packing processes of earlier this morning. It wasn’t logical; I keep finding forks and toothbrushes together, my cloak was wrapping plates, and so on. The frustration is building rapidly.
I’m frustrated by the inefficiency of the clutter in the room (wondering all the time how much of the life I’ve know was false and empty) and I’m scared out of my mind at the life that waits for me if I stay (an arranged marriage to a man I don’t know and probably won’t even like, parents and people who love me but don’t know anything about who I am, aunts who turn out to be fairies with magical powers, a huge castle that feels so foreign and cold and isolating...). But from time to time I get swept away in anticipation of the life I could have with the.... man... well, his name isn’t that important... He loves me and I love him and even with the dangers of the world, even in getting home again, our love will protect me.
I want to get home, to the cottage in the woods, not because it’s my home but because that is the place where I am supposed to be meeting my love right now. I need to find that stupid candle and get out of here, somehow, without being seen – even in this ridiculous ball gown.
There are so many obstacles to face; I’m locked in the tower of a castle (how cliché) with one way out that is probably fortified by a hundred royal guards. I’ve been dressed up in a gown that not only weighs three times what my usual dresses do, but is also nearly florescent and could house a small country of people under its skirt. I can’t find the candle and although the room is lighted well, I think a girl of any stature carrying a full sized torch might be counted as suspicious. Time is also, naturally, ticking against me.
The stakes: if I get free and find my way back to the cottage in time, I will surely live a life full of love and romance and fairytale bliss. If, however, I am captured, I will be forced into a horrifying marriage to the ogre prince and I will be miserable the rest of my life. Or, on a more positive note, I will prick my finger on a spindle and fall into a dream-filled coma for the rest of my life... not a terrible option, when compared to the legal slavery I will be forever trapped in otherwise...
And so, I move to action. I root through my boxes, collecting the things I will need for my journey. Hiding the dress as best I can, I light the candle, grab some matches and quietly slip out the door without being seen.
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