Queen Esmerelda’s lips were luscious red petals and her brown eyes flecked with the sparkle of fireflies. People remarked how she moved with the grace and strength of a dancer, and wore clothing as though she were a full-sized fashion model. She had a rare beauty informed by intelligence, but at this particular hour, faced a difficult decision.
The land was dying. Leaves hung in the air like bandages waiting to be changed; fish were farmed and no longer swam in lakes, oceans smothered in red algae. Her advisors, with their fancy degrees from leading institutions, were unable to help. The queen put out a call with the promise of her own hand in marriage to anyone who could offer a workable solution.
Rock pigeons dropped flyers throughout the land: “Each suitor must present a plan to address the country’s woes. The queen offers her hand in marriage to the winner.”
The day of the competition arrived. Young men queued up outside the main castle gate looking smart in well-oiled beards and gold-rimmed sunglasses. They talked amongst themselves, sure that the queen would be unable to resist their proposals and charms. Each held a yellow ticket printed with a number and were called individually to the queen’s chambers to explain their plans.
“Thank you.” The queen dismissed each one and motioned for the next suitor to be admitted.
The queen’s advisors gathered around her living room couch as she flipped through the stack of proposals. “Baking powder won’t clean the oceans.” She looked at the next folder. “How will setting fire to cattails make it rain?” Her advisors covered their mouths and giggled, glad not to be bested by some ordinary townsperson. The queen stood up, and shook her fist in the air. “How can we spray water on the trees when we have none to spare!”
Just then, the floor-to-ceiling window flew open and a strange person stepped inside. The queen’s advisors called for the guards to immobilize the stranger with their chain mail, and hoping to disguise her, threw a cloth over the queen.
“Enough!” The queen said, throwing off the sheet. “Who are you?” Before her stood a person in a rhinestone cap and velvet suspenders towering over everyone in blocky platform shoes nearly six inches high. The intruder rolled out a red carpet. “Identify yourself,” Esmerelda demanded.
“Queen Esmerelda,” the upstart bowed. “I am the Crowd Prince of No Ware.”
“Speak,” said the queen, that is, if you have anything left to say.”
The Crowd Prince stepped forward. “You will never find a solution to the country’s woes by employing the old formulas. Suitors and husbands and hands in marriage are at the center of many stories, but these are different times and require new solutions. We must travel north and meet the mother of all things. I am here to escort you.”
The queen realized the sagacity of his advice. She dropped the proposals to the floor. They fluttered around the table like broken wings. With that, the Crowd Prince took Queen Esmerelda’s hand and they flew out the window as her guards and advisors gasped.
Old Formulas Won’t Work
The land was dying. You only had to look. Leaves hung in the air like bandages. Queen Esmerelda’s advisors with fancy degrees from leading institutions, couldn’t help. The queen put out a call with the promise of her own hand in marriage.
Pigeons dropped flyers throughout the land: “Each suitor is invited to present a plan to address the country’s woes.”
The day of the competition arrived. Young men queued up outside the main castle gate looking smart in well-oiled beards and gold-rimmed sunglasses. They wanted to find out who had won.
The queen’s advisors gathered around her entertainment center as she flipped through a stack of proposals. “Baking powder won’t clean the oceans.” She tossed it and opened the next folder. “How will setting fire to cattails make it rain?” Her advisors covered their mouths and giggled, glad not to be bested by some ordinary grub.
Just then, the floor-to-ceiling window flew open and a strange person stepped inside. Before her stood a man in a rhinestone cap and velvet suspenders wearing blocky platform shoes.
He bowed and introduced himself as the Crowd Prince of No Ware. “I beg my queen’s indulgence. I’m here to say that suitors and hands in marriage is a fairy tale grown cold; these times require newer solutions. We must travel north and meet the mother of all things. I am here to escort you.”
The queen dropped the rest of the proposals that fluttered to the floor like broken wings. The Crowd Prince took Queen Esmerelda’s hand and they streamed out the window as her guards and advisors gasped.