Lullaby of the swing

🐻☕🧸📋🧋🍪

✩♬ ₊˚.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ 

*****

ᴀ ʏᴏᴜɴɢ ᴡᴏᴍᴀɴ ʀᴇᴏᴘᴇɴꜱ ʜᴇʀ ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ʙᴏᴏᴋ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ, ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛᴏ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴀ ɴᴇᴡꜰᴏᴜɴᴅ ꜱʏᴍᴘᴀᴛʜʏ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ'ꜱ ᴍɪꜱᴜɴᴅᴇʀꜱᴛᴏᴏᴅ ᴠɪʟʟᴀɪɴ. ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴠᴇʀʏ ɴɪɢʜᴛ, ꜱʜᴇ ꜰɪɴᴅꜱ ʜᴇʀꜱᴇʟꜰ ɪɴᴇxᴘʟɪᴄᴀʙʟʏ ᴛʀᴀɴꜱᴘᴏʀᴛᴇᴅ ɪɴᴛᴏ ɪᴛꜱ ᴘᴀɢᴇꜱ, ꜰᴜᴇʟᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴀ ꜱɪɴɢᴜʟᴀʀ ᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ: ᴛᴏ ʀᴇꜱʜᴀᴘᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴀʀʀᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇɴꜱᴜʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠɪʟʟᴀɪɴ'ꜱ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ.  ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠɪʟʟᴀɪɴ, ᴀ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍᴇʀ ᴡʜᴏ'ꜱ ꜰᴏʀᴇᴠᴇʀ ʏᴇᴀʀɴᴇᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ'ꜱ ᴀꜰꜰᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ. ᴅᴇꜱᴛɪɴʏ ɢʀᴀɴᴛꜱ ʜᴇʀ ᴡɪꜱʜ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴀ ᴅᴏᴜʙʟᴇ-ᴇᴅɢᴇᴅ ꜱᴡᴏʀᴅ. ꜱʜᴇ ʙᴇᴄᴏᴍᴇꜱ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ'ꜱ ᴄᴏɴᴄᴜʙɪɴᴇꜱ, ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴛʟʏ ɴᴜʀᴛᴜʀɪɴɢ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴡɪɴɴɪɴɢ ʜɪꜱ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ.  ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʟᴏᴛ ᴛᴡɪꜱᴛꜱ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ ᴜɴᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ᴡᴀʏꜱ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜɴɴɪɴɢ ꜰᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ʟᴇᴀᴅ ꜱᴛᴀʙꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠɪʟʟᴀɪɴ, ᴛʀɪɢɢᴇʀɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ᴇꜱᴄᴀᴘᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀʟᴀᴄᴇ. ʏᴇᴛ, ʜᴇʀ ꜰʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴄᴀʀʀɪᴇꜱ ᴀ ʜᴀʀʀᴏᴡɪɴɢ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴇQᴜᴇɴᴄᴇ - ᴛʜᴇ ᴇxᴇᴄᴜᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ʜᴇʀ ᴇɴᴛɪʀᴇ ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ.  ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ, ᴘᴇɴɴɪʟᴇꜱꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ɢʀᴀᴘᴘʟɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴀʀꜱʜɴᴇꜱꜱ ᴏꜰ ʟɪꜰᴇ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴠɪʟʟᴀɪɴ'ꜱ ᴛᴀʟᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ ᴀ ᴍᴇʟᴀɴᴄʜᴏʟɪᴄ ᴛᴜʀɴ, ʟᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇʀ ᴜɴᴛɪᴍᴇʟʏ ᴇɴᴅ.

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𝐼𝑟𝑖𝑠 𝐶𝑟𝑦𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑙

𝐿𝑢𝑐𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑅𝑜𝑦𝑎𝑙𝑒

𝐼𝑠𝑎𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑎 𝐼𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑔𝑜

𝑀𝑎𝑔𝑛𝑢𝑠 𝑆𝑖𝑙𝑎𝑠

𝐶𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛!

𝑇𝒉𝑖𝑠 𝑏𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑑𝑒𝑙𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒 𝑡𝒉𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑠, 𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑙𝑢𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑏𝑢𝑠𝑒, 𝑣𝑖𝑜𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑡 𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑢𝑎𝑔𝑒, 𝑏𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑐𝑒𝑑 𝑘𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑠, 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑏𝑜𝑡𝒉 𝑝𝒉𝑦𝑠𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑎𝑔𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑑𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑠, 𝑔𝑜𝑟𝑒,  𝑎 𝑠𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑏𝑢𝑟𝑛 𝑛𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒, 𝑠𝑒𝑥𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑝𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑. 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑑𝑣𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑑.

𝑇𝒉𝑖𝑠 𝑏𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑖𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑜𝑟 𝑜𝑛 𝑝𝑎𝑝𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝒉𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑚𝑦 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑡 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛. 𝑃𝑙𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑚 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠 𝑡𝒉𝑒 𝒉𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑑𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑢𝑡𝒉𝑜𝑟 𝑖𝑛𝑣𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝒉𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛. 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑐𝒉𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟, 𝑝𝑙𝑜𝑡 𝑝𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑡, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝒉𝑖𝑠 𝑏𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑖𝑠 𝑎 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛. 𝐶𝑢𝑟𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑦, 𝑡𝒉𝑒 𝑏𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑖𝑠 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑔𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑟𝑒𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛 𝑐𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑠𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠. 𝐼𝑓 𝑡𝒉𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝒉 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝐼 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑡 𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑡𝒉𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠. 𝑇𝒉𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑡 𝑎 𝑠𝒉𝑜𝑡. 𝑀𝑢𝑐𝒉 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 ❤️

𝐸𝑛𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝒉 𝑖𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑢𝑎𝑔𝑒, 𝑠𝑜 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝒉 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑎𝑦 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑐𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑠-𝑤𝒉𝑒𝑡𝒉𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝒉𝑒𝑦'𝑟𝑒 𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑟𝑠, 𝑡𝑦𝑝𝑜𝑠, 𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝒉𝑒 𝑜𝑐𝑐𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑠𝑙𝑖𝑝 𝑖𝑛 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝒉𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒.

*****

🐻☕🧸📋🧋🍪

✩♬ ₊˚.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ 

*****

The wind whispered through the towering trees, their branches swaying in a nocturnal dance within the royal palace grounds. The moon, a silent observer, cast its ethereal glow upon the sleeping world, leaving only shadows to traverse the quiet expanse.

In this serene stillness, a lone swing creaked gently in the breeze. The garden, nestled behind the regal structure, lay shrouded in darkness, devoid of any signs of life. The flickering lanterns had long been extinguished, and the grandeur of the palace appeared to slumber beneath the night's embrace.

Breaking the silence, a small figure emerged from the shadows. A little girl, no older than seven, took delicate steps, her tiny hand holding onto her mother's. They moved with a quiet purpose, venturing toward the secluded garden bathed in moonlight.

The little girl's eyes sparkled with a mixture of wonder and anticipation once they reached the forgotten swing and as she stepped forward, a shiver of uncertainty gripped the atmosphere. The mother, caught in the delicate tension between skepticism and maternal concern, took a step back, her expression etched with fear.

"Are you sure?" she asked, her voice a tremor that mirrored the rustling leaves around them. The night held its breath, waiting for the affirmation or denial that would shape the course of their nocturnal exploration.

The little girl, undeterred by the solemnity of the moment, nodded with determination. Just as the little girl began to cross the threshold, her mother's hand gently arrested her progress. The child turned back, eyes filled with confusion, unaware of the invisible currents of fear and emotion swirling within her mother.

A tear, unbidden, escaped the mother's eye, glistening like a dewdrop in the moonlight. She hastily brushed it away, a silent plea to conceal the vulnerability that had momentarily surfaced. With a quick motion, she drew her daughter closer, enveloping her in the safety of her arms.

"Mom, I really lost there! Without it, they won't let me take the test!" The urgency in the little girl's voice echoed in the quiet night, a plea tinged with worry and desperation. Her mother, sensing the gravity of the situation, shook her head with a stern seriousness.

"You're forbidden from approaching that swing again! Missing a test isn't the end of the world. Come with me now!" The mother's words cut through the night air, decisive and firm. She wasted no time, her protective instincts taking charge as she briskly moved to pull her daughter away.

Unbeknownst to them, the king, hidden in the shadows of his bedroom, observed their departure from the window with a watchful gaze. As the duo disappeared from view, the king's attention shifted back to the swing as its enchanting dance abruptly ceased with the wind.

Suddenly, the swing began its spectral dance anew, defying the constraints of the physical world with an eerie persistence. The rusty chains whispered tales of forgotten laughter with a grating sound that echoed through the silent night.

A puzzled furrow creased his regal brow, and in a deliberate motion, he reached for the heavy curtain and pulled it closed angrily.

_____

The little girl asked, her innocent voice cutting through the air. "Mom, why does everyone despise the swing? Is there a ghost or something haunting it?"

The mother, caught off guard by the unexpected question, halted in her tracks. She turned to look at her daughter, her expression a complex blend of surprise and unease. The little girl, oblivious to the weight of her inquiry, gazed at her mother with wide, curious eyes, seeking an explanation to unravel the mystery that shrouded the swing.

"Mom?"

A pregnant pause hung in the air, laden with unspoken secrets and the weight of shared apprehension. The mother, grappling with how to respond, finally spoke, her voice carrying a subtle tremor that betrayed a deeper unease. "Don't go near that swing ever again," the mother commanded, her tone carrying an unspoken urgency that added weight to her words. The little girl, sensing the gravity of her mother's warning, nodded slowly in understanding.

As if compelled by an unspoken intuition, the mother knelt down, her eyes locking onto her daughter's. There, in the moonlit courtyard, the air charged with an unspoken truth, the mother sought a promise. The little girl, captivated by the seriousness in her mother's gaze, reciprocated with a hesitant nod.

A small, understanding smile played on the mother's lips as she enveloped her daughter in a reassuring hug. The weight of unspoken secrets lingered in the air, and the mother, in a moment of both vulnerability and protectiveness, whispered, "Yes, it is haunted."

The daughter pulled away with a shock, her eyes wide with a blend of surprise and curiosity. The mother, facing emotional turmoil within, shut her eyes briefly before mustering the courage to speak.

"I served as her maid; she, my master."

"Did she reside in the palace at that time?" the little girl asked, her innocence bringing forth a simple, yet piercing, question.

The mother nodded solemnly. "Yes, she was indulged by her parents as the only child. Her desire was to marry the king and become a concubine. I was bestowed upon her by the king to serve her faithfully."

"But how did she die?" the little girl asked, her voice carrying a genuine curiosity.

The mother, her eyes clouded with the weight of memories, responded somberly. "In the presence of the queen, the entire city witnessed her execution." As she spoke, she absentmindedly wiped away tears that had escaped, a testament to the emotional toll of recounting the past.

Noticing the tears in her mother's eyes, the girl, her innocence casting a light on the complex emotions in the air, asked a question that cut to the heart of the matter. "Was she a good person?"

The mother caught between the conflicting shades of loyalty and regret, took a moment to gather her thoughts. She shook her head, a conflicted expression lingering on her face. "I-i don't know... She wasn't virtuous, but I hesitate to label her as outright evil."

"It's because she treated you well?" the little girl inquired.

The mother's gaze turned solemn. "Not even once," she said gratingly.

"Why do you think she's not evil if she was executed, even though she never treated you well?" the little girl asked, her innocence seeking understanding.

"Because she was a fool... just a fool in love. Everything she did was driven by love." the mother admitted, her words carrying a mixture of bitterness and a hint of reluctant empathy.

*****

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...

𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒, 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝒉𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘 ♡

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ

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