THE PRINCESS, THE BLOWFISH & THE PHOENIX

Once upon a time, in another world, in one of the most magnificent, natural, pristine, and enchanting lands in the universe, there was a young Princess.

Her father was an all-powerful King, a hard bastard, but ultimately, he was kind and fair and had a good heart. He looked after his people.

He loved, adored and worried about his daughter; he only wanted the best for her. He knew she was loving, kind-hearted, trusting, and had a heart of gold.

He worried about her because he knew she was naïve, vulnerable, had a childlike innocence, and could easily be taken advantage of. He also knew, like him, she had a sense of mischief about her. He knew she was extraordinary; there was something unique about her.

He kept her confined within the palace walls, watching her every movement, not letting her out of his sight; he wanted to keep her safe.

She was headstrong, intelligent, rebellious, had the soul of a gypsy, was an amazing mess that somehow magically worked, her aura was like that of an angel, magical and free, beautiful and elegant like a butterfly, yet there was an underlining hidden, unspoken strength so deep within her, her spirit so free it soars like an eagle high above the sky with such skill and flawlessness. All the people in the land loved her; everyone thought highly of her; she had an inner beauty that lit up a room. She made you feel like you were the only person in the world.

She and the King often had almighty quarrels because she wanted her freedom; she felt trapped, and the King was unwavering in his decision. She was to do as he said, and that was that!

Her family, the King and Queen, older sister and younger brother, loved her deeply and protected her like a delicate, fragile flower.

She felt frustrated, trapped and controlled; she only knew what other people had told her about the world. She could not believe the world was flat and nothing else was out there.

So, she hatched a plan with one of the girls to trade places for a day or two. When her father, the King, was distracted, she made her get away and mounted her unicorn.

Her unicorn was breathtakingly beautiful; its coat was as white as snow and as shiny as the sun, its mane and tail were bright, and all the colours of the rainbow and its wings were strong and powerful.

They were off; they swiftly flew for miles, through different worlds, different galaxies. Her heart was beating so hard and loud with excitement and fear. She thought she was dreaming; it was beyond belief; she could not believe her eyes; she was doing it; she never thought she would be free to see beyond the palace walls.

They did not stop until they saw a quaint land; she had never seen anything like it before.

There were so many bright lights everywhere she looked. Everything was lavish and extravagant; the buildings were big, elaborate, and ornate; everything moved so fast; it was mind-blowing. She was so wide-eyed and in awe, trying to take everything in she was utterly bewildered. It was beyond her wildest imagination.

The people were loud and had a strange accent she could hardly understand; they wore the most elegant clothes, their jewels were exquisite and opulent, and they all rushed around like they were very influential and had somewhere important to be.

She had never seen so many people; she was bumping into people and getting shouted at. She felt very out of place, intimidated and sacred; she had never been alone or had to look after herself before. Maybe she should go back home where she knew she would be safe. Her father, the King, had often talked about the people from other worlds. He said they were predators; they prayed on the weak, loud, full of hot air, obnoxious, untrustworthy, dangerous, all they cared about was money, greedy, and had no values, morals or integrity.

Suddenly, there was a booming man’s voice shouting at her, ‘Look where you are going, girl, look what you have done.’ She could not clearly see the face of the man she had bumped into; all the bright lights blinded her. She said, ‘Sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to; I am new to this land’. His demeanour changed and became soft and friendly. He said, ‘Really, my dear, do you know anyone here? Where are you staying?’. She said, ‘No sir, I do not know anyone here. I am alone, and I have nowhere to stay. He said, ‘Come, come now, my dear, that is no good. You must be hungry, come with me.

Hesitantly, she followed him to a little eatery, where he proceeded to order for her. He told her to sit and enjoy her food and that he would return in a while. He had some business he had to attend to. She did as she was told; she was so hungry she ate everything in front of her. She had never tasted anything like it before, but it was delish.

After waiting some time, she started to get tired from all the day's excitement. Her eyes were droopy and sleepy, and she thought she should find somewhere to sleep for the evening when a note was handed to her. It was a note from the man; it read ‘sorry, I have been delayed on business, find your way to the ‘secret spot’, he was with some friends. He would meet her there. There was a poorly scribbled map on the back of the note.

While she had not been able to see the man when she had first bumped into him for all the lights reflecting and sparkling from all the bling he was wearing and had mostly seen the back of his shiny head as she followed him, she had nowhere else to go, and she was quite frightened in a new place. He seemed like a nice man; he had brought her some food after all.

She made her way to the address; she was excited and scared at the same time. From the outside of the building, it was very impressive. She walked up the golden steps slowly and knocked on the enormous door. She waited, still feeling very sleepy from the day’s events and a little hesitant. The door slowly opened, and she heard a man's voice say come in. Slowly and carefully, she walked in. The door slammed shut behind her, giving her a fright.

Inside, the lights were dimmed, and there was a peculiar smell; she had never smelt anything like it. A strange woman told her to follow her; she did as she was told. The woman led her to a beautifully decorated room; as she looked around the room, she noticed a beautiful dress lying on the bed. The woman instructed her to remove her dirty clothes to put on the dress the Master had arranged for her to wear, and she had to hurry as the Master was not a patient man. The woman told her the rules of the house: only speak when spoken to, do as you are told, never disobey him, always call him Master and never look into his eyes, or the Princess will be punished.

She got ready as quickly as she could; the woman then led her to what seemed like an elegant party in a formal lounge room. She heard people talking and laughing. A familiar, friendly voice told her to come have a drink and meet my friends. She hesitantly did as she was told.

There was a group of people sitting around the room; he introduced her to his colleagues and acquaintances. She looked around the room. It was beautiful and elegant; at first glance, the people seemed refined, worldly, intelligent, sophisticated, delightful, and well-to-do. Everything had a fresh glow about it.

She was offered a chair, and she sat down, a welcoming relief to get off her feet, and a drink was placed in front of her. She smiled, said thank you and slowly drank it. It tasted like juicy fresh strawberries and cream. The glass seemed like it was magic. Whenever she thought she had finished her drink, the glass was full again.

After some time, the people seemed to change and were an odd bunch of people, all full of their own self-importance; she couldn’t really tell what the women looked like; they appeared to have so much stuff on their faces. It looked like you could use a shovel to remove it; their jewellery was vulgar and ostentatious, and the men were not that much better; if their noses were any higher, they would have had their heads up their own backsides.

She wanted to leave, she wanted to go home, she tried to look around for a door, however, the lights were low, and it was terribly hard to see, the door seemed to have disappeared, her legs felt funny and did not want to work, there must have been something in the drink. Everything and everyone felt fake, theatrical, exaggerated, soulless, and lacking in substance.

She did not know what happened next. She awoke feeling cold, odd, and alone. She was lying on a pile of hay on a cold rock floor. She looked about the room she was in; it was cold, damp and smelt terrible. There was little light that came through the cracks in the walls.

This was nothing like the other extravagant rooms; it appeared to be a dungeon. She got up and tried to open the door, but it was locked. She screamed and shouted at the top of her lungs and made as much commotion as she could for someone to hear her. She was scared and trapped. She tried to climb the stone walls; it was like she was in a dungeon. It was no use.

She collapsed onto the hay; her shoulders slumped. As she did, a tray was shoved through a little slot at the bottom of the door. She ran to the door and yelled and screamed to no avail. She looked at what was on the tray; she did not recognise it but assumed it must be food. It looked nothing like the fancy fair she had when she first arrived.

She did not know how long she had been out for and locked in this smelly, damp dungeon if it was hours, days or even weeks. The light from the cracks in the walls was always bright, and there appeared to be no night. She made friends with the little creatures that would crawl through the rocks; she gave them names and some of her food.

After what seemed like an eternity, she was being prodded. She opened her eyes, she must have fallen asleep again, to see a man’s face and the smell of bad breath. She looked up and saw an old man. Was it the man from the street? He seemed to be dressed in his finest entire, which appeared to have seen better days. He was wearing what looked like all the gold and jewellery he had ever owned, and it seemed to be weighing him down. He was not very tall; he was exceedingly fat, round, full of hot air and puffed up like a blowfish, bald. His smile was lecherous, his teeth were yellowish, and his energy was slimy and sleazy; she felt she needed to shower or rip her skin off.

He told her from now on, she was to call him Master, she was to do as she was told, and she would be alright. In her mind, she was already calling him by the nickname the blowfish. She was confined to the little dungeon, trapped with no way to escape. She wished she had stayed with the King and her family, but it was too late now.

Day by day, week by week, month by month, year by year, she said no. She tried to stay strong, but the blowfish was not about to give up; he was determined to break her spirit.

Finally, after what seemed like centuries, she did as her Master told her. The Princess did not want the blowfish to see he had broken her; she would say ‘yes, Master’, put a smile on her face, wear pretty dresses, work hard, and let him think he was in control. She thought about her father and her kingdom and dreamed of one day returning to her life at the palace.

He manipulated her into getting loans for large sums of money she could not afford, using her money as his own. To sign documents, she did not know how to read or what they meant, purchase property, sell property, and loan the money to him, never intending for any of it to be repaid.

The Blowfish had grown bored with his beloved, and the light in his life had dimmed many years ago. However, his wife would not tolerate living a commoner’s lifestyle; she was too grand for that. She demanded the finer things in life and would not accept or settle for anything less, as they had a reputation to uphold within their community. She didn't care about the beggar girl; as far as she was concerned, she was just a means to an end.

So, he directed the Princess to acquire as much money as she could, greedily calculating every cent, chastising her when he found out she was hiding money from him. Insulted and affronted at her audacity to steal money from him, after all, he did for her, she was so ungrateful. He would fly into an incoherent, nonsensical panic, doing and saying anything for this not to happen again and to placate her.

The blowfish was so drunk on the power he thought he had. It was like he was a cat relentlessly toying with a mouse, knowing he should end its pain but wanting to indulge and savour in every ounce of the deranged, sadistic, macabre pleasure he could from it. He would get irritated by any minor inconvenience that interfered with his gratification.

Through his arrogance, he thought he knew how to control the Princess; he only saw what he wanted to see, and he had no apprehension about her only subsisting in that one-roomed. he dudgeon, her going without; he threw her enough scraps to keep her in line. He treated her like a petulant child. She was just another pawn in his game of lies and deceit, something to amuse himself when he was bored. He degraded, defiled, gaslighted and demeaned her just enough for her to misunderstand the severity of his abuse. He told her what he thought she wanted to hear: I love you, I care, I’ll look after you, and you will be fine.

He believed he had well and truly broken her spirit, and she would never betray him; she was too stupid, too uneducated to work it out. He was so egotistical, pompous, and self-righteous that he thought nothing could go wrong. Someone as menial, inferior and beneath him could never get the better of him. Showing no compassion and taking full advantage at every opportunity. Feeling a perverse sense of superiority.

He would bring her out from time to time to show her off to his colleagues and acquaintances or, whom he liked to call friends when she was good or needed to do something else for her. They were cruel and mean to her and would demean her. When she thought she could see an opening, she would beg someone to listen to her. He would punish her and convince everyone around her she didn't know what she was talking about, telling them to ignore her; she was just a beggar girl in the street he found and took pity on and put a roof over her head. She should think herself lucky.

He happily took what he thought was everything from her; as far as he was concerned, it was his anyway. She deserved nothing. He thought he could leave her in the gutter, homeless, destitute, begging for food, where he had found her when she was no longer of use to him. He believed his own lies and thought there was nothing wrong with what he was doing.

She would not give him the privilege and satisfaction of knowing how broken she was or seeing her pain and sorrow. She missed her father, the King, terribly, and it was only the thought of him that was keeping her going.

He thought he was the master of his own game. He played hard and played it well. He was quietly smug at how well he was executing his plans; he thought the Princess did not have a clue. She watched quietly and learnt his game; he thought she was too stupid to see what was happening or even work it out; he underestimated her; she knew he needed her more than she needed him, for her to keep doubting, second-guessing herself, when she would ask questions, wonder why things didn't make sense, making sure she did as she was told. He made sure he would leave her floundering in enough self-doubt, self-loathing, and despair that he could come and go as his ego needed stroking.

For all the time the blowfish thought he had control, he never took the time to get to know her; he never knew where she came from and the teachers she had had. He did not know that she came from a world he would never understand or comprehend, one of integrity, respect, honour, and velar. He only knew her as the scruffy, dirty beggar girl from the street and his sub to be told what to do, when to do it, and what to think.

He tried to emotionally and mentally destroy her; every second of every day, she teetered on the edge of sanity life. Sometimes, she felt like giving up; a lesser person would have completely given up by now. She was a fighter and was determined that the bastard would not win; she would find a way. She played his game strategically. She knew that everything comes to those that wait, and it was only time until she escaped.

On one occasion, when she was especially good, the blowfish let her out; he introduced her to someone she had never seen before. he was not one of the usual crowd; he was not like the rest. When he entered the room, he commanded respect just by his mere presence; she saw compassion in his eyes and felt a burning fire within him.

He discreetly observed what was happening and took pity on the young Princess; he could see right through what the blowfish was doing, and he did not like it, not one bit. He was determined to help this poor girl.

He was kind to her and showed her compassion. He did not know just how badly she needed that little piece of kindness and compassion after all the years of abuse. She had always had a little faith, a small piece of hope, and could see a tiny light. She knew there had to be a way out of this darkness, but now the light was brighter, and her faith was stronger.

Unbeknownst to the blowfish, the man he had introduced the Princess to was a fierce leader and warrior who had been at the forefront of many a battle; he had to choose between the life of his enemy or his men and the people he was there to protect. He knew there were no heroes or winners in war; you do what you must do to survive.

They would meet in secret, she told him about everything, and he taught her about the land she was in and what she had to do; he was like her protector. She listened to everything he said; she could hardly contain herself, to have someone she could finally trust and let them in to see the real truth she had never shown anyone, the real her. She told him about her father, the King, her family and how much she loved and missed them. He could see the intense pain and sorrow in her eyes, the irrevocable damage the blowfish had done. He saw deep into her soul, the real her. He could see she was a fighter and would not let the blowfish win. He promised he would get a message to her father, the King, to let him know she was alive and would be home soon.

As each day passed by, he could see her grow, flourish, and bloom from a rosebud into an exquisite rose as each delicate petal was released one by one.

The blowfish was starting to feel a little apprehensive; something was different about the Princess. He felt he was losing control, but there was something else he could not quite put his finger on it. Still, he knew something was not quite right and was becoming increasingly anxious.

One day she went to meet her friend, he seemed distant, like something was wrong. She questioned him; he told her he had to leave the next day to go to battle in another galaxy. She was in tears and pleaded with him not to go; what would she do without him? How would she survive? He told her she was stronger than she thought, she would find a way, and he would always be with her in spirit. She felt utterly shattered inside as they said their goodbyes. She knew they had an unspoken sacred bond that could never be broken. She had never felt a love so pure and true, un-controlling and accepting.

So, she made up her mind; she was going to find a way to escape the dungeon, the blowfish and all his so-called friends; she would no longer be controlled and be told what to do.

The blowfish was getting older, making more and more mistakes, and the Princess was getting wiser and more intelligent. She studied his routine; when he would let her out, she would only pretend to drink the strawberry liquid in the magic glass so she could survey the lay of the land, as her friend taught her.

One day, the blowfish was so angry he was in an uncontrollable rage; he came into the dungeon and told her to get up and gather all her belongings. He grabbed her roughly by the arm and pulled her through the dungeon to a room she had not seen before. It was stark and eerie, with a fire burning ferociously, the flames flashing and flickering brightly.

The blowfish brutally threw the Princess to the floor, all her belongings flying everywhere. She was scared. She had never seen the blowfish this mad before. He was muttering and talking to himself in a language she could not make sense of. He started to grab her belongings and throw them into the fire, one by one. The Princess did not know what to do. She threw herself at the blowfish, wrapping her arms around his leg, trying to beg for forgiveness for whatever she had done so wrong. The blowfish kicked her away. She tried to reason with him, but there would be no reasoning with him today. She pleaded with him to stop; she would do anything he asked of her, but there was no stopping him.

Suddenly, like magic, the fire exploded and burnt even more ferociously than before, making the blowfish tumble to the floor. The sudden blast appeared to converge the flames together gracefully; out of nowhere, from within the fire, she could see something rise from the flames. It was the most perfect, beautiful, wondrous, awe-inspiring creature, like nothing the blowfish or the Princess had seen before.

It was a glorious golden Phoenix, with scarlet and gold glowing feathers, a tail as long as a peacock's, a golden beak and talons; its eyes were blue and shined like sapphires, with its melodious cry beckoning to the Princess to follow it.

She recognised the warrior’s eyes in this golden bird of flame. Without hesitation, she got to her feet and followed the Phoenix; it guided her swiftly, with great confidence, safely out of the dungeon. Outside, the Princess could hardly believe she was free. But there was no time to waste, and the Phoenix summoned her to keep going. She was tired but continued following the Phoenix until the Princess was united with her unicorn. The blowfish had captured the unicorn and held it captive all that time.

The Princess was so overwhelmed to see her unicorn tears of joy rolled down her face; she buried her face in its mane and hugged it so hard. She thought she had lost it forever.

She quickly got her wits about her, mounted the unicorn and followed the Phoenix. The Phoenix flew through the sky gracefully and easily to a beautiful, magical, safe land where she was secure and free to be her true self.

Once she and the unicorn were settled in their lovely, warm, cosy little cottage with a beautiful rose garden, a white picket fence and a cute little black puppy with lots of character called Bert, she wrote a letter to her friend telling him of her adventures and that she was free and happier than she had ever been, even in her father’s kingdom. She requested the Phoenix to deliver the note to the warrior with her love…..

She felt safe knowing that the golden Phoenix was watching over her and always with her in spirit from afar……