Letters to Princess Rebecca

Moments unsaddled in time. Moments riding the lines of words, each guided and shaped by a single key. A different group of animals used to conduct a thought. Each letter—an animal. Each word—a strange cage of sound. A sentence, a stream of animals moving through one’s consciousness. Letters, words, sentences, paragraphs, pages, chapters, and books, all designed to demonstrate an invisible world filled by flickering forces, and sounds—sounds that hem together lost ideas.

I got up from the bed. My back was sore and my body was eager to mail her a letter. She was a princess. One that never responded. But. At least I wrote letters to a princess. Something that settled my sense of adventure.

“ Dear Rebecca,

I see the empty letter filled with untamed animals as I write to you. A piece of paper saddled by the community of letters, words, and sentences, all meant to strike you with vigor. Perhaps a smile, or even a sense of purpose.

Some believe you to be dead inside. Missing—missing from the outside air. It’s spring time and no one has seen you. Strange, that a person's presence can capture a crowd. Rally their sense of selves. Awaken them by a glance at someone they care for. Even a mysterious shadow can lead.

I’ve seen a friend sad, but at the mere mention of princess Rebecca he would stir and a smile would crack. For that, Princess, I thank your shadow. Perhaps one day, I can thank the person carrying the light around—maybe then.

I hope you got my present, the silver bracelet. Its loop was forged in Carendar and the silver is from the mines you helped commission. The people working are well-watered—like the flowers in your garden. They gladly gave the ore in hopes that you would return. I will send them a thank you from your shadow, if need be. Take your time recovering. ”

I paused, filling the letter with strange animals. Cages—words that belong somewhere else. To someone else. Imprisoning ideas, thoughts, all to meet the princess again. It was alarming and unsettling. I couldn’t stop my thoughts, a chaotic storm of words colliding, causing sounds to collapse and capture ideas irresponsibly.

I had a letter to write, yet, words cherished and fragile would flap away, some would sing like dreams inside, others would slip and slide out.

The pause in my mind began to ripple as an animal jumped into its pond. The shimmering waves glided through an aged mind, one with several decades of experience. Experience breathing, thinking, and writing.

I had asked the princess if I could write to her. She never responded, but I was polite in my first letter to the royal figure. I recalled the words to her awesomeness.

“ Dear Princess,

I’m Yarg, a denizen inside your kingdom. Bored and unsettled by a reckless sense of adventure companioned by a deep desire to write I beseech you, to lend your mind to my writing. Perhaps, the words, however untamed, will entice your intelligence and light a flame of amusement as you spend your time consuming their vital energy. If not, please tell me they are not of interest and wasted landings. I will write no more to you if that is the case. ”

Perhaps, remembering that from her… A letter in return… Could halt the symphony of dreams I attempted to send her. This was enough to encourage the next sentence. So I continued.

“ … Princess,

I wish you could eat these cookies that the Bounty Bakery had made on Chasm Day! They would surely help your recovery. They are baked to a thick rise of chunky delight. Each bite is filled with morsels of chocolate, layered between moments of coconut and almond. They are called Almond Hope cookies. ”

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Funny. The princess thought as she read about the Almond Hope cookies. I’m not recovering from anything... But that cookie might make me lovesick for more, that I’m sure.

Memories of cookie coconut batter rippled across the princess’s tongue. Taste began dripping over the letter as the caged words captured the denizen’s intention—tempt her to leave. Leave the thoughts imprisoned by the letter and make the travel to these Almond Hope cookies… to the Bounty Bakery.

His letter—Yarg’s letter was one amongst a hundred. There were letters from a litany of people: Darian, Clyde, Effon, Bush, Peter, Vert, Igon, and the list continued… Letters from the denizens of the kingdom filled the mahogany table Princess Rebecca used to balm.

Here her friends, the people, commanded her mind. Lead her to places, lead her to ideas about times she’d missed, lead her to beauty and the damned.

Yarg. His mentioning of coconut cookies would haunt for the remainder of the day. She knew and cursed him for his random writing adventure—his blind quest to beseech a princess with words imprisoned by his mind.

Haunted… By something as simple as cookies.

The cookies would remain out of reach, though. Rebecca stared deep into Yarg’s letter.

She read as Yarg continued writing about many different things, the taste of the seasoned weather, where to find blossoming yippies, and how his recent fist fight went. He called it training, but it all seemed brutal. Even the blossoming yippies.

All of it caused Rebecca to resent the outside world.

Yet, this time. Perhaps it was something new in her. Perhaps it was because this was the hundredth letter from Yarg. Perhaps it was because she felt truly brave.

Regardless of the truth, she reached for her own writing instrument and began forging a new closeness to her cookie bringing friend.

“ Dear Yarg,

I must admit your talk of cookies had my mouth watering. Thank you for taking the time to water the flowers.

Princess Rebecca ”

The paper, mostly empty, yet filled by a message from a place that belonged—meant for a place that belonged.

Her hands folded the letter without trepidation. Eager and her face with a smile.

“ Raquel! ” Rebecca requested for her servant to come as soon as the message was ensconced inside an envelope.

“ Yes, ” a matronly servant entered, perhaps troubled that her presence required such a yell from the princess.

“ Please, give this to Yarg,” Rebecca said, passing the envelope to Raquel. She continued, “ Bring me some Almond Hopes from the Bounty Bakery as well. Please, they sound delicious, too delicious, almost misleadingly delicious. ”

There was a wetted eagerness in the princesses' desire for the cookies that made Raquel’s face break into a small smile.

“Of course, Princess. ” Raquel left with the envelope, leaving Rebecca to water the remaining letters on the table.

The princess's fingers were now nipping at the barrette securing a plait of her brown hair. The thought of a hot bakery, the excitement of her first letter, all of it warmed her, making her think about wielding her hair back to a fashioned ponytail.

A sigh of relief escaped, as her hands twisted and bound her royal hair into a completed tail.

Fantasies of cookie crumbs being wiped off her yellow blouse enchanted her contemplation as she continued to dream about tastes twisted by words like coconut and almond. Rumples from her blouse waved as she wiggled in anticipation.

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I continued my study, searching and questing for new words, new cages. Each word a cage, but each time I brought a cage to the page, a new type of freedom would emerge, something lost, now free—the animals released. The quest forwarded.

I continued the letter to the princess. Perhaps the page is a dungeon dotted by cages. Each word is a prisoner to the page. Is Rebecca a prisoner?

“... Princess, I properly saw a flower blossom this morning, it took a hundred moments or so, but—the crocus’s eruption was beautiful. I couldn’t help but yelp out, ‘Yippie!’ Cheering on flowers has become a terrible pastime of mine.

Most friends of mine see them as dilapidated normalacies, causing their existence to fade into grey. Yet, that blooming crocus rallied against their indifference—it yelled back at the memories of them belittling colors as common-enough-to-no-longer-notice.

Flowers, so often still, yet it moved—rapidly, exploding open, shocking me. My surprise was tumultuous, I’d never spent the time to simply stare endlessly at a closed flower. Not until this morning did I decide to test my dedication, a quest to see the floral doorway open to the light.

An atrium of dreams await you outside the castle, Almond Hopes, and blooming crocuses.

Sincerely,

Yarg. ”