follow us on TwitterTwitter
like us on FacebookFacebook
view us on YouTubeYouTube
listen to us on SoundCloudSoundCloud
subscribe to our rss Feedrss
Sketched Worldsa variety of
aboutabout
booksbooks
contactcontact
crewcrew
gallerygallery
performancesperformances
recordingsrecordings
storiesstories

subscribeclick to subscribe

Fabrice SchombergFabrice Schomberg
various writersvarious writers



by Fabrice Schomberg


There was a girl

 who did not want to be a queen or even a princess. She did not care for possessions or houses or any sorts of delicacies like chocolate, nor any luxurious clothes or jewels or holidays. She wasn't impressed by anything in abundance, not money, flowing drinks nor valuables or expensive gadgets. All she wanted were the mere necessities.

  She was as beautiful as she was humble, quite intelligent too with a feel for poetry and a touch for aesthetics.

  As fortune provides, a dear and beloved prince, soon to be king, showed up at her door asking for a little water to satisfy the thirst of his royal stallions. Her sweet voice charmed him and the handsome prince stayed for a cup of tea.

  It was a bitter black tea but made with the sweetness of her heart and a little dash of honey with droplets of fresh lemon, picked from her lemon tree. She obviously knew how to cook and the prince realised that he was as hungry as his horses which were now happily grazing on her lawn.

  All she had was a little flour, olive oil, a few newly harvested tomatoes and freshly picked basil from her garden and some cheese. But it was the best cheese the prince had ever tasted because it was served up with her love, in a dish she called ‘Pieza’: pie because it was round and za because she made it from A to Z and they finished it from Z to A, not leaving a crumb.

  He was in love, and she too, since, as they ate, the prince recited poetry, talked of art and discussed the most recent, yet archaic, philosophy.

  She told him that she had no desire to become a princess and asked the prince why he wanted to be a king. But he said he never really wanted to be one; he was just born that way. He pointed out that a king can conquer all, yet hearts cannot be conquered. But she had conquered his, even though she was not a queen.

  So the prince took off his crown, got down on his knee and let his horses and heart roam free. Flowers blossomed from the words he uttered and butterflies fluttered to the tune of birdsong. All that was left was a carriage, a place for their children to play and a dream of maybe becoming, one day, a

king and queen.


edited by Janet Cartlidge, copyright © 2016 Fabrice Schomberg


~ click to subscribe ~click to subscribe