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Home›Nonfiction›Creativity›She’s Hopeless

She’s Hopeless

By Stephanie Wyatt
May 14, 2019
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Young girl. Childhood, springtime
Photo by Free-Photos courtesy of Pixabay
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There was a little girl. She had long curly brown hair and big glasses. She was small and tripped over her hair as she entered the large crystal door of the ballroom.

I snickered at her and received a menacing glare from my grandfather. “She will be your queen one day, Ariadne. Show some respect.”

I pouted, my lip protruding outward as if it could protect me from the cold, green eyes cast down at my small frame. Grandfather always looked at me like that. He never looked at my stupid cousin, Riley, like that. It was like he did everything right, and I did everything wrong even though I’m a better royal than him.

I stared down at my reflection in the dark blue tiled floor. I was prettier than that clumsy princess. Her eyes and hair were brown. Do you know what else is brown? Poop. No one likes poop. It’s gross and smells bad. 

Princesses are not supposed to smell bad. I saw my dark, green eyes in the tile. Green reminds people of spring people like spring because everything is new and clean. My hair is also black like that princess in the earth story who lives with all of the little old men when she runs away from home and eats the bad apple so she has to take a nap to feel better. Then the prince wakes her up with a kiss because he wants to marry her. I thought people were supposed to date, and get to know each other before they kissed. They lived happily ever after, though, so I guess not knowing each other is okay. 

The only brown-haired princess is that girl who loved the hairy prince who needed to shave. She wasn’t a smart princess either. Didn’t she know princes were supposed to look nice? 

“Princesses don’t trip,” I murmured quietly under my breath.

“Not everyone takes to princess lessons quickly, my dear,” Grandfather commented coldly. Well if she’s not good at being a princess maybe I should take her job. Then Grandfather would be proud of me, not stupid Riley for once. 

I smiled sweetly at Grandfather before walking across the clean tile to the little girl who was playing with a plastic jeweled crown and scepter. My footsteps echoed off of the large purple stone walls that surrounded the room. The room knew I was supposed to be queen. Not this girl. She was a mess. Her hair was all messy, hairs sticking out everywhere. Her dress had an icky black line of dirt along the edges. 

Princesses weren’t supposed to be dirty so I did the logical thing. I swiped the crown from on her head and placed it on my head. I smiled and used my free hand to wave at Grandfather who wasn’t even looking at me. I turned my head toward the large crystal door that had a large sparkling half moon on it with a star hanging off of the end. I looked confused for a minute until I saw a messy mop of dark blonde hair appeared behind the door as they struggled to open it. Grandfather laughed, and the sound echoed off of the walls as I saw a small slim boy appear behind the doorway. He had eyes a little lighter than mine like leaves that have already grown from their buds and received light from the sun.

 My eyes narrowed as I watched Grandfather pick up the boy, and hold him close. Stupid Riley, you always ruin everything.

“You must bow to me I’m your queen,” I told the dirty princess who smiled and did as she was told. I rolled my eyes annoyed. “She hopeless,” I muttered, as my future queen complied.

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Stephanie Wyatt

I have Cerebral Palsy and use a wheelchair. I grew up in Fort Wayne but currently live in Chicago with my dog Ama Angelica, and my best friend. I love to write and read YA Sci-Fi and Fantasy stories. Anything else you want to know just ask!

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Latest Comments

  • Ivor Steven
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    February 19, 2026
    Thank you very much for reading my poem here on CHW magazine. It was a fortuitous ...

    Beyond My Outpost

  • Ivor Steven
    on
    February 19, 2026
    Thank you for reading my poem here at CHW; I appreciate your thoughtful comments, EugiI

    Beyond My Outpost

  • Cheryl Batavia
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    February 18, 2026
    Ivor, the photo is perfectly paired with this poem, both reflecting the uncertainties of this era.

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  • Eugi
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    February 18, 2026
    Beautiful said, and excellent rhyming, Ivor. Where do we land where there is peace and light?

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  • Susi
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    November 3, 2025
    Beautiful, Ivor!

    Paddling In Time

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