Damsel in Distress

“Help! Please! Is anybody there?” Penny had been screaming for what felt like forever, but nobody seemed to have heard her pleas. She slid down to the floor of her cell and let out a huff. She wished someone would've come for her by now, but she knew she would have to be more patient. Light from the high window of her cell cast barred shadows onto the floor and a quick glance told her that at least four hours had already passed.

She stared down at her hands and twisted them together until they hurt. She hoped Mother had been rescued by now; In fact, she probably had been. Mother had always told her that getting captured was of little consequence if she was sure she could be rescued. Now Penny wasn't even sure of that. Normally she would be rescued in the first hour or two and it was rather dull spending so much time alone; It usually left her alone with her thoughts. Time. That was something of which she did not tend to get much. She rubbed a sore spot on her right arm and her fingers brushed against the dark marks on the inside of her forearm; All of them together resembled a lotus flower, but the tattoo was missing two of it's thirty petals.

Maybe I did something wrong, she thought to herself, but pushed the idea away. The more it happened, the more it seemed she was getting too good at being taken hostage. She was sure though that one day her captors wouldn't let her live as long just because she was pretty. Mother always encouraged her to depend on any assets she had at her disposal, in particular her looks, but to reserve some of her skills, just in case she needed a little something extra to get what she wanted. However, Penny wanted nothing more than to make Mother proud of her and that was something she tried to do every single day.

Two more petals. With renewed energy, she stood up from the corner and walked up to the bars.

“Help! Pleeeease! Heeelllp meeee!” She never understood the addition of the ‘please.’ Either there would be someone nice enough to let you out or there wouldn’t be. Whether you were polite or not seemed to make little to no difference to her in this time and place. She heard a loud creak, followed by a light, rapid footfall descending the winding staircase.

A younger man, she guessed.

“Hello,” she asked in a hoarse voice. The sudden bright light of a torch illuminated her face and she found herself staring into a pair of deep blue eyes, nearly concealed by a mop of blonde hair that spilled over into his face.

A boy. No wonder it took so long.

“Princess! Are you alright?”

“I think so. Please, help me get me out of here.”

“I will my lady.” The youth looked around and spotted the keys hanging on a hook in the stone wall nearby. Sometimes the captors made it too easy for the rescuers. He grabbed them and got to work unlocking the heavy, wooden door.

“Do hurry,” Penny pleaded in a low voice, “My jailer will be back any minute.” A sense of urgency always made the situation seem more dire. He grunted as he fumbled with the keys, making more than enough noise to draw attention.

He must be in training or something, Penny sighed inwardly. The correct key finally clicked in the lock and the door swung open. He stepped into the cell's straw and dirt floor and Penny's knees fell weak on an almost involuntary reflex. As they buckled, her rescuer's arm caught her in a perfectly timed swoop.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered as softly as she could.

“Just doing my duty, Princess.” He proceeded to carry Penny all the way up the stairs from whence he came and when he set her down, Penny allowed him to help her regain her footing.

“I don't know how I could ever thank you,” she cooed at him.

“No thanks is required, Princess,” he replied.

“Penny,” she encouraged. She watched him smile as he registered her name and placed it with her face.

“Penny,” he said, trying it out.

“There must be something...,” she continued.

A single hit could do it.

“A ‘thank you’ would suffice,” he answered. Penny smiled sweetly, knowing exactly what he meant. Playing the politeness card would earn him a lot points, but not from her. She leaned over his shoulder and kissed him on the cheek.

Gross.

“My hero.” She didn't bat an eye when she landed a blow that she knew would keep him out cold for hours. She stared at his limp form lying on the ground for a moment before clocking her capture, then stepping back to allow a two-woman disposal team to take care of her victim. As she followed her pre-laid path back to the portal, she thought,

Why do they always assume we’re Princesses in need of their help?

Along with trying to get back into writing my second book (fingers crossed), I've been pinning some very thought-provoking, creative writing prompts on one of my Pinterest boards. And while I would love to use all of those ideas for my book, I thought it would be fun if I tried out a couple on my blog instead.

My only problem with doing these is that I start thinking of full-length stories. (For this one above I've already got a whole storyline in the works.) The reason they're called writing prompts is because they prompt you to write more, which is exactly what this one did. But I want to try writing a couple more, different ones. If I so feel the urge however, I will revisit this prompt. I enjoyed exploring and creating more of this character, especially her name, Penny.