The castle had been her home ever since she could recollect. She had never set her eyes on the world outside. The only birds she had heard and seen were the large vultures that cried morning, noon and night at the top of the highest towers. The only plants she had touched was the ivy that grew all over the walls of the castle, spilling into every nook and corner. The only other person she had seen was the wicked witch who kept her prisoner in the castle.
She longed to see the world outside. The world she had read about when she spent hours in the castle library. The books told her stories about princesses like her, trapped by evil monsters or wicked witches or scared parents, in towers and castles. Every princess was, in the end, rescued by a handsome prince.
Yesterday, she turned 15. She wondered if this would be the year she would meet her prince. After all, if the books were true, he would be here to rescue her very soon.
She sat on the window sill of her room and counted the sights she would like to see when she left the castle – the mighty mountains covered with snow, the gushing rivers, flocks of birds flying in the sky, valleys of flowers, and the ocean. All the places which she had never experienced, because of the witch.
She had always been scared of the witch. The witch was strong and the princess had seen the fate of those who stood up against her.
She wondered – why wait for a prince?
Why not be as strong and take matters into her own hands – like the witch? After all, if the witch was so strong, so could be the princess.
That night, as the the wicked witch slept, the princess collected all the ropes she could lay her hands on – from the curtains and the bedposts, and rolled up all the sheets she could find. She tied them together to make a long rope. Then she climbed down the tower using the rope. Making sure no one saw her, she made her way out of the castle gates.
The prince had arrived. He was in her heart, a personification of the longing in her heart for freedom and her will to follow her dreams. The source of her misery had become the source of her inspiration. The fairy tales had transformed.
The fairy tale world she had read about, was now real!