I Am

• Wynter Grainger, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2015

I am the daughter of a king who forgot my name. I am the daughter of a queen who forgot my face. I am.
Here I sit on my throne of elm, unknown and undisturbed. In my castle made of strong wood and weak stone, held together not by mortar but by ivy grips. All around me it lives, it breathes.
I rise, pulling my tattered cloak around my shoulders. My bar feet glide along what was once marble floor. I trail down the banister, my hand running along brass ensnared in branches.
I can hear the sounds of running water. It is not far now. The trees that line the river let speckled sunlight stream through their boughs.
The river is calm and clear. It sparkles in the limited light. I shed my grey cloak, and then my once white dress that is now sullied, stained and torn. The cool air barely has time to hit me before I dive in to the water. It is so refreshing that I could stay here forever-
Snap!
I hear the cracks of branches underfoot and the unmistakable sound of male voices. I know instantly they are soldiers.
I leap out of the water and break into a run, not caring I am only in my undergarments. The twigs scratch my arms and tangle in my soot black hair. None of this matters, as I get further away and leave behind my family and my life.
I am the daughter of a king who forgot my name. I am the daughter of a queen who forgot my face. I am.


I would like to acknowledge LL Tyrrell who wrote the first sentence in my story, which inspired the rest of the story.