She sat by the large windows, gazing out at rows of wheat that glowed in the warm rays of the March sun, squinting as the afternoon sun’s bokeh trickled in through her half closed lids. She opened and closed her eyes, playing up the rainbows that formed from the light trickling in. “My very own kaleidoscope”, she thought, smiling to herself.
The handmaiden’s tight yanking of the corset laces snapped her out of the moment. She wanted nothing more than to jump out of the window, wind down the dense sinewy shrubbery and make her way far beyond the old crumbly palace walls.
Then all at once, she was running: like a gazelle freed from the clutches of its prey. She trailed her way through the prickly warm husks that caught the delicate fabric of her dress. Halting for a moment to untangle a golden kernel, she looked up: The sun smiling down at her, making her cheeks tingle with warmth, causing a soft blush to splay on her face.
For a moment she paused, spun around towards the aged gothic castle. Deep brown eyes stared back through the windows, where she sat motionless while the handmaiden turned her tresses to royal plaits. It should have felt odd, watching herself, frozen in a fragment of time. But the prospect of a free life bubbled up in her heart. A respite from the tight grip of expectations.
As she looked up, a splattering of fluffy white clouds began to part lazily, as if being signalled to begin the “act”. A soft white vortex began to appear against the plain blue sky with swirling bolts of lightening, lowering down the most exquisite seat. The body made of the fabled Icelandic Spar, reflecting & refracting rainbows much beyond our realm of existence. She looked up in awe, transfixed by the interplay of colour and light. She seated herself, unable to break her trance. Watching as the swing lifted her, she saw her face yet again in the window, her hand raised in a final goodbye, a cool zephyr brushing away the golden brown tresses from her face.
Free at last.