As the steady beat of the large grandfather clock struck away, I thought. I thought about all the mistakes I made in decided that I wanted my only daughter slaughtered for money. I leaked a small tear. Jackie was my only hope in finding out who I am, and I let her die for money. she meant the world to me, and I let her die. I watched a man lift a large axe and… How could I have been so selfish? “NO! Mom? Please! PLEASE!” still rang in my head from the night before. I lay on the most expensive pillow I can afford because I am the queen of my town. Why would I even think about feather pillows over my own daughter? My thoughts ran in and out of my dreams all night as I slept. The next morning I would face my husband as he returned from his ever long journey in search of the escaped prisoner, Ralph.
I knew I must drag my feet out of bed in order to tell the king the faith of his over shadowed daughter. As I reached the landing a small man, no taller than a seven year old, ran towards me, a look of pure fear upon his face. “The k-king. He’s in t-trouble, Miss. he f-fell off the c-cliff,” whimpered the man, “He’s d-dead.”

“DEAD?!?! How can this possibly happen? How did he die?” I spat furiously at the short man.

“I-I’m only p-passing on the n-news, M-Ma’am.”

“WHO TOLD YOU MICHAEL DIED?!?!” I was in tears as I shouted this at the scared man. I immediately felt sorry for this man.

“It w-was the c-cook who t-told me. B-but someone else t-told him he s-said.” The man stumbled. He fell to the ground in sobs, apparently afraid of another outburst from me. I immediately ran towards the open door in which the man came through. It was a beautiful day with only minor clouds. Here in Stumpleton Christmas’ were very bright and sunny. I ran down towards the kitchen that sat on my sloped lawns. I rapped on the door. The cook swung open the door in desperate haste. He looked very feverish. Trying to keep my calm I said, “Who told you Michael died? I want to know now!” It took a moment for the cook to answer, but I kept calm. Finally he spoke,

“His body is on the top of Mount Stave. He died of a surprising reason, but I swore not to tell. He quickly shoved a cup of what appeared to be orange juice in my hand. I turned out the door without another word. i walked quickly back up the slope to my manor. As I pushed open the door I found the man still crying hysterically. I said motherly, “Go down to the kitchens and get something calming.” I gently handed the man my orange juice.

“Th-Thank you. You are so k-kind. I know you are upset. F-forgive me.” He murmured. I smiled and stood up. I walked upstairs to my bedroom. I changed into a outfit fit for a journey. I packed a bag with clothes, food, and anything else I might need. I was going to Mount Stave to find my dead husband. Even if that meant dying on the way.

Thank you so much for reading this. I would be thrilled if you commented. If you would like to leave ideas for Part 3 I might include those in the next story with a special recognition for you. Thanks again!!! PLEASE COMMENT!!!!!!