Silver Horned Imagination

Apr 21, 2008 - 20:23 PM PST
The assignment for my creative writing class was to write a fairy tale- so here et us

Silver Horned Imagination
By Dan Segura


Once upon a time in the kingdom of colorful dreams and smiles there lived a princess who loved to paint. Her exceptional grace and beauty were outmatched by her skill and aptitude with a brush. She would spend her days by the lakes, in the forest, or in the meadow. Whenever she would finish one of her paintings she would proclaim to the creatures around her, “If only if only my painting would come to life.” Then one day while she sat under a willow in the meadow she could not think of what to paint. She pondered and pondered, but try as she might her imagination was dry as an Egyptian well. Then, before her face a silver horned caterpillar repelled from the nearest branch. He told her that he would grant her a wish if she would but paint him. Overcome with joy and excitement she agreed. She wished her wish once more, “If only if only my paintings would come to life.” He granted her wish under two conditions. One, she must never paint herself; two, she must paint him. He then broke off one of his silver horns and gave it to her. “In order for your paintings to come to life you must prick your finger with this horn, and dab your blood onto the canvas, but be wary that no one gains access to your blood the consequences may be costly.” She agreed to all, declaring, “I will not let you down thy noble little master,” and it was done. Upon her return to the castle she went wild with her new found authority. All her fantasies became reality: blueberries, raspberries, pineapples, crystals, gems, clothing, everything and anything she could imagine or replicate became real. The first day passed, she was exhausted and her fingers sore. The princess not taking heed to the caterpillars warning decided to fill a vile with her blood so that she would not need to prick her finger so many times. She then promptly fell into a deep sleep and dreamt of what she would she would devise and birth the next day. However, that night the vile of blood fell into the wrong hands. The princess woke to the smell of burning tapestry, the resonance of metal on stone, screams of chambermaids, and the roar of many beasts. Moments after she had woken the king ran into her room, “ There are dragons, wild beast, and Frenchmen loose in the castle, you must save us from this wrath!” Determined to fix the plague she had unleashed upon the castle she got her canvas and paint and got to work. Unleashing an ocean scene upon the castle, she putting out the fires and washed away the devilish paintings. She was treated as a hero and king that night, because no one knew that she was responsible for the disaster. The princess was soon boiling with vanity over her swift and clever action. She sat in her chamber so pleased with herself that she decided to paint a portrait of herself, but she would not bring it to life. Suddenly the silver horned caterpillar appeared at her windowsill, and reminded her, “Please princess all the land knows of your fair beauty, there is no need to paint yourself. You have yet to paint me, and bring my portrait to life.” “What a wise creature you are caterpillar,” the princess returned, “I will paint you at once.” The princess then painted the most vibrant and strikingly realistic caterpillar the land had ever seen, but she forgot to bring it to life in her haste to paint herself. After placing this painting to dry in the window she began her own portrait. Hours flew off the sundial and she had still not finished. The moon was now full and still she scrutinized over every last detail by candlelight. Midnight rang out and she added the last drop of detail and like a swift wind it hit her. The princess asked out in vain, “Have I been hit over the head or am I drugged?” The room spun as she stumbled left and right trying to get up. She knocked her portrait on the ground, and then the vial of blood that shattered and began to run towards her portrait. Frantically she floundered to the floor and tried to soak up the blood with the hem of her dress. Try as she might she only made the matters worse, dizzily she fell onto her painting smearing wet paint and blood across the canvas. In her hallucinogenic state she watched as her dark alter ego rose from the canvas on the floor. With a shriek the princess tried to escape, but stood up only to staggered to the window and catch herself. The dark princess closed in with a malicious smile and pushed the princess out of the window with the caterpillar painting in hand. Landing many stories below she died instantly, but one single drop of blood seeped out of her mouth onto the canvas. The clouds separated and the moon shone bright. The painting came to life, but it was not a silver horned caterpillar. The great wizard from the north had been released from a five hundred year curse. He quickly reclaimed the powers the princess possessed and because she was a pure kind-hearted girl resurrected her from the dead.

Silver Horned Imagination

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