She pushed open the double doors to the balcony of her Victorian mansion. The ivory chiffon curtains flowed with the welcomed wind. Her graceful gait towards the balustrade was envied by any common swan. She leaned over the balustrade and rested her palms gently against the white-painted platform, lightly brushing the dust.
The sun was warm and brought colour back to her ashen cheeks. She closed her eyes and breathed in the morning's courage. If the sun could rise once more each day after darkness took over, then so could she. But as she fingered her mother's bracelet on her virgin wrist, she doubted her abilities.
"Madame, it's time." A voice carried through the open doors. It was her gentleman-in-waiting.
She looked back at him with the naivety of a four year old. How can I handle the responsibility, her eyes seemed to say. His face became soft with wrinkles as he gave a small grin. "Come, young one." He extended his hand.
She stared at it hesitantly, but took it gratefully. Together they marched down the spiral staircase to the main foyer where the people of her land obediently bowed down. Seeing her people so eager to seek her wisdom and ask for her help, she thought back to when her mother would always ignore her intelligence. Now was the time to introduce all the wonderful ideas that had plagued her. And the first thing she was going to do was to make all these people stand up.
(photo via AnOthermag.com)
