The Daily prompt arrives late in the UK on weekends, so this is yesterday’s prompt
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt, “Once upon a Time”
“Tell us about something that happened to you in real life last week — but write it in the style of a fairy tale.”
Once upon a time in a land far away, a handsome and generous King ruled over the village of Bostana by the Forest of Sangoosta.
The people of Bostana loved their King. They had watched him grow since infancy, and many referred to him as their Kingly Prince.
Each morning, the villagers would gather on the central courtyard to greet their leader, who would appear on the castle balcony shortly after 6am. The King would wave and smile at the cheering crowd, before nervously glancing to the edge of the forest to where she always watched with disdain. Throughout the years, her presence would only feed his deepest fears.
The wicked witch of the Sangoosta Forrest would be hopping around the trees with rage, vowing to turn every person against him. After fifty years, the King had managed to keep the people of his Kingdom happy, but the witch would never allow him to become complacent.
Following the morning fanfare, it was customary for villagers to lodge requests for various things they needed. The King was always happy to help and would roll up the sleeves to his expensive robes, and muck in.
Over the years, villager’s requests became trivial and mundane, rather than issues of necessity. Some days the King barely had a minute to write in his secret time travelling blog from the future.
One day, the Kings most loyal servant, Dodger, was furious at the sight of some villagers relaxing as the King humbly carried out their duties.
Later that evening, beads of sweat trickled down Dodger’s back as the King sat motionless, listening, it felt like an eternity. This could lead to public beheading, but the King needed to know the nature of these blood-sucking leeches.
“I do agree,” Said the King, “Many of the requests I grant to my people are for things they could do for themselves, but I am fearful of them turning against me and causing me harm, just as the wicked witch of the forest foretold.”
“But, your Majesty, if I may be permitted to say, not everyone would turn against you, only the ones that mean little to you, anyway. That doesn’t necessarily mean they will wish you harm. Many villagers would rather know who you are rather than what you can do for them. They are the people worthy of your time.”
A number of weeks later, Dodger stood by the balcony door proudly watching his Kingly Prince prepare to meet the people, he noticed a glow of confidence, of self-assurance, and trust
The Royal Court had spent week’s refusing villager’s selfish requests and, undoubtedly, the numbers had slowly dwindled. The ones left standing in the courtyard were special and made up for the loss of those leeches. Stepping onto the balcony, the king smiled and waved at the people bellow, while scanning the edge of the forest.
“Look, Dodger, the wicked witch has vanished, she can no longer taunt my deepest fears.”
“If I may be permitted to say, Your Majesty, the witch of the forest never did exist, she was merely a figment of your imagination.”