SLEEP, BEAUTY, by Jennifer Loring page 4/4
River grabbed the file and walked further into the corridor. In each room he examined the walls, the desks, the closets, hoping to find the girl or at the very least, something she’d left behind. She was so beautiful that she certainly must have vanished with the others.
He entered a room in the middle of the hallway. Passing by the bathroom near the door, River caught sight of his own misshapen face in the cracked mirror. There were often mirrors in the stories, enchanted objects that let you see whatever you wished. But he did not want to see what the mirror offered. His fingertips drifted over the tumor on the left side of his forehead, over his flat nose and the harelip that defined his mouth. He wasn’t like her. He was no prince. She would find him hideous and turn him away.
River backed out of the bathroom, pained by what the glass reflected. He turned his gaze to a photo taped on the wall next to the bed. A man, his arm around what River presumed to be his daughter. It was the girl. She smiled this time, but in this photo too a strange emptiness emanated from her eyes. There must be more of her in this room, somewhere…
Darkness crept into the corners already. River pulled open the closet door, found a few rags that once may have been clothing.
And a small skeleton crouched in a corner, with strands of long brown hair clinging to its skull. A note lay by its side.
“Dear Daddy, I’m sorry for whatever I did to make her hate me. I tried to get along with her, I swear I did. I hope someone finds this and gives it to you. They said the bombs are coming soon and that no one can stop it now. I’m scared and I wish I could be at home with you. They told everyone to get in the basement but I don’t want to die with a bunch of crazy people, so I'm hiding from them. I’d rather be alone in my room where I can think about you. I love you, Daddy. Dawn.”
“You woke up,” River whispered. He sifted the fragile hairs through his fingers. His chest suddenly expelled another clot of blood, larger and darker than before. Outside the light deepened into purple.
“I’ll stay with you.” River pushed the door open wider so he could curl up next to the princess. He remembered another story, of a repulsive prince who locked himself away in a castle in the forest. Yet even then a girl learned to love him, and broke the curse of his ugliness.
River thought of his sister Rainbow, who would believe that the witch had gotten him. Then he thought of bones, which would not betray his deformity to anyone who might stumble upon them. His curse lifted by the princess after all.
River closed his eyes. The pain in his chest didn’t stop this time. Maybe that was why he no longer feared the oily black of night, even if it brought in its shadows the death he had been expecting from his first bloody cough weeks ago. Drowning now, the fluid gurgled in his lungs and choked him. He could no longer breathe. Yet he smiled, for the princess awaited him as soon as he was ready to join her.
Jennifer Loring has published over thirty short stories and poems, and in 2004 received an honorable mention in The Year's Best Fantasy and Horror for her story "The Bombay Trash Service." She lives in Philadelphia, andis currently at work on her first novel.
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