Bolts of Red, Stitches of Gold
by Julia C.
Many years ago there lived a young princess, who wore garments of red silk and gold thread, and despised every gown that her servants forced her to wear. The walls that fortified the great palace held no love or respect for its land, and there was no doubt as to who brought this treacherous coming of hate. All who lived in the boundaries of the Emperor new that it was the Emperor and his wife that brought it. The young princess's parents neither loved or cared about the plain looking girl, the girl did not care, for she hated the palace, hated her royal garments, hated the life that she was forced to live.
By the age of sixteen, her parents decided that she was old enough to wed and they sent messages to all of the emperors in China, announcing their daughters need for a husband. Of course many young suitors came, but she neither loved nor wanted any of them as a husband.
The princesses parents became angered by her lack of enthusiasm, and for many weeks ignored her completely. The princess decided that her mother and father were not like her, and she then made an important decision.
That night she wrote a short letter which read:
Dear Mother, Father, and friends,
I have decided that my life here has no purpose, no meaning, and I might as well not be here. And so I have decided to leave this horrible palace and venture into small villages, and large cities, until I find the life that I have always wanted. Do not come looking for me. You will not find me anywhere that you look. But, when the lichees come into harvest, and the bamboo shoots are ready for eating, I will write again. Never will I return to this palace, for it does not hold the life that I want. Please forgive me.
Princess Ank Pa
And so she left, sneakily making her get away through the window that overlooks the palace gardens filled with water lilies and zig-zag bridges wearing a plain cotton dress, and a rough brown cloak.
She ran freely out of the palace walls, glad to be free, scared to be on her own. Just as she was about to burst out of the palace gates she ran into a gardener that worked there.
"Old one, why do you garden at such a late hour?"
"The moon shines softer than the sun." He replied slowly. "Besides I should be asking why a child of your age should be fleeing at such a late hour?"
"You dare call me a child? I am almost seventeen, and no commoner like yourself should talk to a royal like that!"
"What do you mean? You never wanted to be part of the royal family, and now you aren't." The Princess looked guiltily down at the plants that the old man was planting, she then looked up at the moon, and realized what the old man meant. The moons soft glow seemed to pulsate around the delicate flowers, and saw that the glaring sun was not what made the flowers grow, but the moon nurturing light nursed them and let them grow tall and strong, reaching for her and the stars.
"I'm sorry my elder. I am confused about life. I have lived in these walls of hatred for to long. And as you can see it has effected the way I speak and act no matter how hard I try."
"Beware my child, when your horse is on the brink of a cliff it is to late to pull in the reins." And with that the old man walked away, and disappeared into the darkness.
"But wait, I don't understand!" She called, but the old man was long gone. She stood there for a minute pondering about what the wise man had said, and she realized that she had never told him anything about her not wanting to be a royal, but she soon realized that every second that she stood there was another second that her parents would have to catch her in the morning. She then pushed open the palace gates, and ran quickly into the night. And as she took one final look at the palace before she disappeared into the forest, she felt a twinge of pain, for although it was not a special place, she still new that it was her home, and she suddenly felt that she should go back, take the letter before anyone would see it, and keep on living at the palace, and she then realized what the old man had meant. But it was too late now, and as she forced herself into the woods, running quickly, she knew that she was finally free. Free of her old surroundings of hatred, free of the ugly suitors that came to dinner every night and stared at her like she was some kind of silk gown that had too many defects, like the silk was not red enough. Like the waist was not small enough, like the golden stitches were crooked and breakable. And she finally felt that the golden stitches that bound her to royalty, and confinement had been broken. And she had done it, all by herself.