On this episode, The Adventures of Princess Gwendolyn, listener Brandon Smith shares his first attempt at a short story with this riveting tale about a young girl trapped between fantasy and reality. The story leads us into a discussion which veers in every possible direction, for better and worse. You don’t want to skip this episode of SMIRK!
Welcome to Smirk. A podcast that covers society and culture through a storytelling lens. Part creative writing, part discussion, and always interesting. Each week our hosts brings a story to the show, a story they wrote themselves, which is immediately followed by discussion on the author’s moral or theme. These stories can cover any topic the host wants to discuss, it can be lighthearted or more serious. No one but the author knows if these tales are truth or fiction, and part of the fun is guessing while you’re listening before the reality is made clear.
We want to hear from you! If you want to share YOUR story, join the conversation by writing in to mystory@smirkpodcast.com, and include your moral, or you can let us guess at it. This is the podcast that looks at truth, fiction, and reality. With a Smirk. Don’t forget to subscribe to Smirk and share the show with your friends!
Want to read listener Brandon Smith’s story “The Adventures of Princess Gwendolyn” in full? Think you can identify the moral or theme for this episode? Read it below, and then take a listen to the podcast.
The Adventures of Princess Gwendolyn
Gwendolyn stood at the window of her high tower and stared longingly at the courtyard below. The sun was out and an assortment of colorful birds had gathered around the fountain in the center of the garden. She followed them, lazily, with her eyes as they hopped and fluttered from place to place, singing all the while. Blissful and free.
Gwendolyn slumped against the cold, hard windowsill. She wished she was a bird and could just fly herself away from this place. It had been two months since the Shadow Horde had kidnapped her from Fortuna and locked her up here. What did they want? Was it for riches? Power? The gods only knew.
She plopped down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. At least today had been a relatively quiet day. The moans of the other prisoners had been less frequent, allowing her a welcome respite in which to lose herself in her thoughts. She closed her eyes.
Almost instantly, she was transported to the woods near her ancestral home. Lush and green with vegetation. She had always loved to play here. Catching butterflies and chasing small creatures as they scurried from one hiding place to another. Or, occasionally, playing hide and seek with the local children.
She smiled as her imagination briefly transported her to happier days. But the feeling quickly subsided when she was roused from her daydream by a sudden knock on the door. She sat up with a jolt. She looked over to the window. The sun was beginning to set. She could hear the sound of a key in the keyhole. She knew exactly what this meant.
The door slowly creaked open, and a pale, gaunt hand crept its fingers around the frame. The old hag emerged from the dark hallway outside, shuffling into the room. In her other hand, she held a bottle of mysterious liquid. Gwendolyn glanced down to the potion bottle and emitted a near audible gulp of dread. The haggard old woman moved more quickly now to the side of the bed and removed the stopper from the bottle.
“Please. No more. I won’t try to escape. I promise.” Gwendolyn pleaded in futility. Undeterred, and without a word, the old woman thrust one hand behind Gwendolyn’s head, gripping her hair forcefully with her claws and forcing her head back.
She felt the potion bottle press against her lips and the bitter liquid pour down her throat. Gagging a bit, she swallowed what she could and then opened her mouth wide for inspection. When the old hag was satisfied with what she saw, she released the girl’s head and moved quickly to the door, slipping back into the dark hall on the other side, slamming the door shut, and locking it behind her.
Gwendolyn lay in the small, silent room. The taste of the witch’s bitter liquid still on her tongue. Its effects would take hold soon. Sapping her powers, and distorting the world around her. Her body was already starting to feel tingly. Eventually, it would go completely numb. She stared out the window again. The sunlight was almost completely gone now. There was no sound of birds playing in the courtyard below. There was nothing she could do now but wait for the night. And the nighttime was when the monsters came…
Strange and terrible were the monsters. Shrouded in darkness, with glowing, red eyes and sharp teeth. They would appear one by one each night. Creeping around the room, drawing closer and closer to the bed where Gwendolyn slept. The first thing she would feel is their warm breath on her skin. Followed by their claws on her body, leaving marks would cause her great pain when morning came.
But there was one monster who was not like the others. She called him Grey, because she thought he looked sad.
Grey was a gentle monster, with large, round eyes and a wide mouth that curved down on one side. He had never hurt Gwendolyn. In fact, he rarely came near her. Preferring, instead, to sit in the corner of the room, watching her. He would sit there like that for hours. Sometimes all night. In a strange way, Gwendolyn felt…safe…when Grey was around, because none of the other monsters would come.
But this night would be different. There would be no visits from Grey. Or from any other monsters for that matter.
The sunlight had completely retreated now from outside Gwendolyn’s window, and her eyelids had grown heavy. She was somewhere between asleep and awake when the noises started. The sound of footsteps, moving hurriedly down the hall. Doors opening and quickly slamming shut. Voices. Hushed at first, but growing increasingly frantic. Then, shouting. Somewhere in another room, a loud bang. Then, chaos.
As the sounds of screaming voices grew closer and closer to Gwendolyn’s room, she began to open her eyes, but they were suddenly blinded by a bright light as the door to her chamber burst open with great force. What looked like a large man in head-to-toe black armor entered the room. Without a word, he took two large strides forward and scooped the small girl up into his arms. Holding her tightly, the man turned and carried Gwendolyn out of the room.
More armored figures filled the hall. One by one, the door to each prisoner’s chamber was being forced open and the residents liberated. Gwendolyn’s head rested upon her rescuer’s shoulder. Her vision was becoming blurry. Her eyelids, again, growing heavy. She could only make out vague shapes of people rushing past them as they made their way down the staircase to the ground floor of the fortress. The noise of shouting voices surrounded them. Her senses were in disarray. Movement, sounds, colors. It all jumbled together. Suddenly, there was cool air all around her, and bright lights that seemed to illuminate the entire sky.
Gwendolyn passed out.
——————————
The elevator doors opened with a soft ‘dinging’ sound as Marcia Williams finished her morning coffee. She stepped out onto the freshly polished tile of the hospital’s 3rd floor. After a quick survey of the area, she disposed of the empty coffee cup in the nearest receptacle and approached the reception desk.
A heavy-set woman with glasses looked up from behind the counter and gave Marcia a quick assessment. “Name of patient?” She asked.
“Jensen”, Marcia replied. “Um. Room 304, I believe.”
The woman nodded, very slightly. “I’ll just need to see some I.D.”
Marcia un-clipped her I.D. card from the lapel of her jacket and handed it to her. The woman raised her head slightly and peered down at the card through her trifocals.
Marcia Williams
Social Services
She handed the card back and gestured to her right. “Just down the end of the hall and take a right. The door is on your left.”
Marcia clipped her I.D. back onto her jacket and straightened the small binder of papers under her arm, then headed down the hallway. Reaching the end, she turned the corner and paused a moment. Down the entire length of the hall, people were standing outside doorways. Some engaged in hushed conversations. Others, crying. A news reporter with a camera crew could be seen at the far end of the hall. Beside each of the dozen or so rooms on either side of the hall were countless bouquets of flowers, teddy bears and toys, sympathy cards, and balloons.
Marcia took a deep breath and approached room 304. She checked the name card on the wall.
Sadie Jensen
She opened the door slowly, and entered. Inside the room, more gifts from well-wishers were stacked on tables and chairs. A box of assorted candies came with an attached note:
“From Mrs. Holt’s 3rd Grade class. We miss you, Sadie!”
In one corner of the room, a television was turned to the local news. The sound was muted, but subtitles at the bottom of the screen repeated the same story that had been playing non-stop all morning. On the other side of the small room was a rollaway-style hospital bed. In it, 8 year old Sadie Jensen. She had I.V. tubes in her arms, and various wires connected her to nearby machines that monitored her vitals. A man and woman stood beside the bed. By the look of their clothes and their faces, they had been there all night, and had likely spent most of the time in tears.
After brief introductions, Sadie’s parents stepped out into the hall. Marcia approached Sadie’s bedside and set her binder down on a nearby table, beside a stack of books. They looked well worn, as if they had been read a dozen times. Marcia picked up the top one and gave the cover a quick skim. It featured an image of a medieval fairytale world with a young princess featured prominently, and wielding magic powers. Shadowy creatures with bright, red eyes surrounded her.
The Adventures of Princess Gwendolyn
Book One: Rise of the Shadow Horde
Marcia set the book back on top of the rest of the set and moved to Sadie’s bedside. Sadie looked a bit groggy, but alert. Marcia’s eyes scanned the various bruises and scratches on the little girl’s body. Those that were visible, at least. She held back tears as she reached for Sadie’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“Sadie? My name is Marcia. It’s nice to meet you.” She said with the best smile that she could manage. The girl smiled back at her. The peaceful innocence in her eyes in stark contrast to the abuse that she had endured.
“Nice to meet you, Marcia.” she said.
Marcia began to ask Sadie about herself. Easy questions. About her family. About what she likes to do for fun. About school. Sadie seemed happy to talk to her, and quickly became comfortable enough to joke about boys, and about the mean girls in her class. But, before long, her energy began to wane and she let out a big yawn.
“It’s ok, Sadie.” Marcia said. “We can talk more later, if you’re tired.”
Sadie turned her head and started to close her eyes. But before she could, something caught her attention on the other side of the room. She began to stare, transfixed, at the muted television as the subtitles continued to recount their horrific tale…
…AT NINE P.M. LAST NIGHT, FBI AND LOCAL POLICE RAIDED WHAT IS BEING CALLED THE LARGEST KNOWN HUMAN TRAFFICKING COMPOUND IN THE COUNTRY…
…OUR SOURCES TELL US THAT DOZENS OF CHILDREN AND YOUNG ADULTS BETWEEN THE AGES OF 8 AND 19 WERE BEING HELD CAPTIVE, SOME OF THEM FOR MONTHS, OR EVEN YEARS…
…THE OPERATION WAS EXPOSED BY VENTURE CAPITALIST, ALAN BRADFORD, WHO CAME FORWARD TO POLICE EARLY YESTERDAY WITH A BOMBSHELL REVELATION, EXPOSING NOT ONLY THE EXISTENCE AND LOCATION OF THE COMPOUND, BUT ALSO OUTING HIMSELF AS A LONG TIME PATRON OF THEIR SERVICES…
…BRADFORD IS FACING CRIMINAL CHARGES…
The text continued to scrawl across the screen. But Sadie wasn’t looking at that. Instead, she was staring at the face of the man whose mugshot was now being shown. He was maybe mid-to-late 40s, with salt and pepper grey hair, large round eyes, and a wide mouth that curved down on one side.