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The lost princess.

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By Candela Blanco The lost princess The room was damp and cold, cold with marks of water dripping down the unhomely painted walls. The paving slabs were freezing and impersonally decorated, there were no carpets covering them. There was no life nor humanity in the semidark chamber. There was no door nor curtains on the tiny window that looked on to the north, making the room even more dark and mysterious. It was unhomely and unlived. No one entered the freezing cube that composed the enchanted, shadowed lodging. It was empty of life even though the passage outside was full of it. ...read more.


It was like a serpents venom, spreading through your blood paralysing you vein by vein, artery by artery... She entered the poisoned room. No sound was to be heard except for the faint drip, drip of water on the floor. For the first time in the room's history, it all failed. She laughed. It was a delightful laugh. The type you hear when a child is hugged by her mother. She frowned as the echo slowly returned to her. She felt a sudden warmth around her. She noticed that the floor was now covered in thick Indian carpets. It all felt cosy and warm under her small feet. ...read more.


The room was now painted in the finest violet. The walls had stopped the dripping and sweating, and instead of the faint drip, drip you could hear a small bird tweeting in a tiny cage at the far end of the room. Soon she felt sleepy and noticed a current of warm air picking her up and carrying her to a cosy four-poster. There she slept for hours and hours... As she slept the walls started to drip again soaking the silk carpets and returning the room to its old state to such an extent, that after a few minutes only the four-poster stood in the middle of the icy room. There was no sign of the tiny princess. Instead there was a little deer skipping and hopping under the moonlight in a garden full of tiny vanilla flowers. ...read more.

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