Brandon tapped the eraser of his pencil on his desk in frustration.
“I don’t know what to write,” he moaned to himself. “I am going to fail this assignment!”
He dropped his head down into his hands on the desk.
Brandon silently cursed his English teacher. He cussed out the assignment more though. Really, who wrote fairy tales anymore? This was the 21st century! There wasn’t anything like princes or princesses and castles anywhere nearby.
How was he expected to write something that would be believable – and good – in order to get a decent grade?
He shut his eyes for a second and sighed.
It had been such a long day, but he absolutely couldn’t put off starting this paper any more.
After he let out a yawn, he scratched his head.
“Maybe I could…”
He said let his thoughts away.
An impatient neighing came from behind him.
Startled, Brandon turned and saw a gray mare throwing her head up, like she was waiting for him to do something.
“Here, Your Majesty, let me give you a hand,” came another voice from behind him.
“Where am I?”
Brandon caught sight of the getup on the guy walking toward him with a brush in his hand. He was wearing brown pants with leather suspenders up over his shoulders. He had on a white shirt and heavy soled boots. And that hat! What kind of hat was that anyway?
Brandon snickered. “Where’d you get the costume?”
The man stopped.
“I beg your pardon?” The man shook his head then moved closer. “Let me give you a hand, Your Majesty.”
The man moved to touch Brandon, and he jumped back.
As he did so, he caught sight of something strange. Brandon stared down at himself.
His jeans and Aero shirt were no longer there, replaced with light brown pants of suede. Was this some kind of a joke?
The man asked, “Is there a problem, Your Majesty?”
“Yeah! Big problems! First, why do you keep calling me Your Majesty?” Brandon touched his pants. They were as soft as they looked.
He realized he also had on a white shirt with long, ruffled sleeves. A dark blue piece of velvet crossed around his waist and tied on the side.
Was he wearing a sword? He had a sword strapped to his side. He jumped back, as though he could get away from the weapon strapped to his side.
“Jesus! Where did this come from?”
The man grabbed hold of the mare’s reins. Brandon wasn’t sure who looked more confused, the animal or the man waiting for him to talk again.
“Sire, did you fall when you were out riding earlier?” He said with concern, “You aren’t yourself, it seems.”
“I guess not,” Brandon said. This poor man really thought he was royalty, didn’t he? “What year is this?”
The man hesitated before replying. “It is the year seventeen-oh-four, my Lord. Would you like for me to ring–”
He trailed off as Brandon walked over to the doorway of the stable to peer out.
In front of his eyes stood a majestic building. It stood gray in the sunlight, four stories tall with a walkway running between the turrets of each corner.
“Ha!” Brandon laughed aloud. “That’s my castle, right? Sweet. By any chance is there a princess inside that belongs to me, too?”
The man stood with his mouth agape.
Finally, words found him as he said, “Sire, I shall go and fetch Sampson. He might know how to better assist you.”
He briskly walked away, shoved the horse in a stall, slammed the door shut, and looked over his shoulder as he practically ran to the castle.
“This is good,” Brandon said as he strolled out of the stable and towards the castle. “Let’s see what type of princess I can dream up to go along with my fairy tale paper.”
As he approached the main gate, several people came running. There was commotion as several tried talking at once as the stable man led them out towards Brandon.
A taller man asked, “Sire, are you feeling ill? Does it hurt any where?”
“Sampson, give him some space,” a young woman said. She was wearing a light green dress and had her dark hair tied up in braids. She didn’t have any makeup on, but Brandon could tell she was pretty.
“Whoa,” Brandon said. “Are you a princess?”
They all stopped moving—and speaking—to stare at him. Then, just as suddenly, they all began speaking again, with more urgency this time.
“Fetch the doctor immediately,” the could-be princess said.
Sampson demanded of the stableman, “Did you see anything?”
“I will, Princess! I didn’t, Sampson,” the stable man replied as he hurried off.
Brandon felt badly. He hadn’t fallen but he must be acting like he took a huge hit to the head. Well, who wouldn’t be a little surprised to be thrown back more than three hundred years?
“Hey, what country am I in?”
The young woman gasped and put her mouth over her hand.
“Oh dear,” she cried.
Sampson watched him closely. He asked, “Did you fall, Your Majesty? Were you bitten while out walking? Did you drink something when you were away this morning?”
Brandon wanted to laugh, but he could tell they were truly concerned over his health. Or more accurately, what seemed to be the failing of his health.
“No,” he said. “Uh… Perfectly fine ride this morning. Actually, sorry to scare you all. I was just having a confused moment or two. Shall we go inside?”
He held his arm out to indicate they should move ahead of him and into the castle. He really wanted to catch a peek inside before a doctor or somebody showed up and hauled him away from this crazy dream turned fairy tale.
What did they have inside of castles these days?
There was fierce whispering in front of him as the princess and Sampson walked close to him through the entry doors.
Once they were inside, Brandon had to contain his gasp.
There was a sprawling staircase that curled around to the right. It led up at least one flight of stairs and to what he presumed were the bedrooms. Straight ahead, there was a long hallway with bright blue tapestries hanging down. The material was blue and yellow plaid. Was that a plaid? Was he in Scotland?
Brandon kept walking forward because he wanted to see what else lay ahead in those stone-encased rooms. This place didn’t seem to have an open floor plan like what the modern homes did.
Brandon strolled the tall hallway and observed portraits in-between the plaid wall hangings. Who were these men depicted, wearing plaid skirts and looking fierce?
The princess trailed behind him. She said, “Your Majesty, maybe you should come up to the bedchamber and lie down until the doctor can arrive. I wouldn’t want you to fall.”
She gently tugged on his elbow.
He turned to the room on his left.
“Wow!”
He had spotted a large ornate desk. There was a window behind the desk that overlooked the center courtyard below. Several men were out there, practicing some kind of tactical maneuvers. Brandon made his way to the window and tried to peer out.
“My dear, I think you need to go to the bedchamber, right away. I am worried about you,” she said again.
Brandon stopped to look at her, to try and figure out her age.
Was she in school, like him? Did girls even go to school back in seventeen-oh-four? Surely they did. Maybe he should have paid more attention in history class, that way the fairy tale could be more…
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Brandon sat up with a jolt.
The alarm clock blared from the table next to his bed.
“What?” He rubbed his eyes and tried to get a grasp on what had happened. “Where..? Aw, man!”
He realized he had been asleep on his paper. And there were no words written on it.
“Dang,” he said. “I guess that was some dream to give me inspiration.”
Brandon picked up his pencil and began to write the best fairy tale project ever.