Pretty Pretty Princess

by McKenzie, Shane

  There was a sound like wet thunder, so loud Francis thought he could feel his brain rattle in his skull. He screamed into Gavin’s back, the pig screaming along with him.

  Francis wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that. He was sure he was already dead, and he dreaded lifting his head and seeing where he would spend eternity.

  “What in the hell?” Gavin said, then took two steps forward.

  “Huh?” Francis finally unpeeled his face from the hog’s back, faced forward.

  The dragon was standing on its hind legs again, only a few feet in front of them. Its head jerked as if it was choking on something, eyes wide and panicked.

  “What’s it doing?” Francis said.

  “I don’t know,” Gavin said. “But now’s our chance. Let’s fuckin’ boogie.”

  Francis held on tighter as Gavin began racing toward the dragon. The beast stood tall, giving them plenty of room to run between its massive legs. From behind them, the inferno raged on, spreading out further into the forest.

  “Hold on, Fran!”

  “Ahhhh!”

  Francis glanced up at the dragon, the beast no longer concerned with the prince and his pig. A long forked tongue dangled from its nightmare mouth, dripping with lava that hissed when it splashed over the ground. Gavin dodged one glob just in time before it could soak them with liquid heat.

  Just as they reached the dragon, about to gallop beneath its yellow, scaly groin, something exploded out from the flesh, sliced its way down the soft belly.

  Gavin dug his hooves into the dirt. They had been moving too fast, and the sudden halt tossed Francis off of the hog’s back. His body slammed against the dragon’s leg before dropping to the ground.

  “Move!” Gavin squealed as he rushed toward Francis, tossed the prince onto his back again with a jerk of his neck, then quickly bounded away.

  Lava and fiery viscera erupted from the dragon’s midsection, spraying over the earth and burning a hole right into it. The dragon mewled, staggered a few pounding steps, and then fell forward into the burning forest, landing on its side. The flames parted, unable to singe the rough hide, but it didn’t matter. The monster was dead.

  “How . . . how is this possible?”

  The dragon’s belly thrashed as if some unborn offspring were trying to free itself from its dead mother’s womb.

  A sword. That’s a sword!

  Francis lunged forward, desperate to help the Black Knight escape, but Gavin jumped in front of him, shook his pink head.

  “Gavin, he needs our—”

  “P-prince!”

  The Black Knight tumbled out from the dragon’s belly, but he no longer resembled the intrepid, mysterious warrior he had been only moments before. The black metal of his armor was misshapen, welded to the liquefied flesh of his body. The metal glowed orange from the heat, the flesh beneath red and black, sizzling with melted fat.

  Francis had a feeling that it was the armor itself holding the man together, that he was nothing more than cooked meat and smoked gizzards now. Yet he stayed on his feet, reached out a quivering hand.

  “Yeah. That’s some fucked up shit right there.”

  “We have to help him. We have to do something.”

  “No,” the Black Knight said, though his words were hardly more than gurgled sounds. “S-save her. It’s your d-destiny.”

  The knight made one final weeping sound before he fell over dead.

  “Gods,” Francis said as he spun in place, taking in the massacre that surrounded him. It was just in that moment he became conscious of the odor filling the forest. The smell of rotting octopus, the cooking flesh of man and goblin alike, the almost fruitiness of the dragon’s guts, and the constant assault of smoke and burning wood. The forest floor was sticky with orange blood.

  “No reason to stick around this place any longer,” Gavin said, then turned and pointed his snout toward the horizon. “Whatta ya say, Fran? Ready to be a hero?”

  “The princess is free. Shall we let her know, Gavin?”

  “Does a hog’s ham hang?”

  5

  The Shadow had been right. The moment Francis and Gavin walked past the trees, the tower came into view, rising out of the horizon like the horn of some gargantuan being.

  The structure sat in the center of a wide moat, and Francis was certain the water would be infested with all manner of creatures. Goblin Gators or some such atrocity.

  The tower itself was no taller than Francis’s family’s castle back in Granada. He had expected it to rise so high into the sky that it punctured the clouds. But instead, it looked rather ordinary, constructed by sloppy hands. It hardly looked sturdy enough to stand, leaning slightly to the left.

  “Not much to look at, is it?”

  “It’s what lies inside that matters. Hurry. Our princess awaits.”

  “If I see anything movin’ in that fuckin’ water . . . ”

  They trudged across the meadow of dead grass and hard earth. Once they reached the edge of the water, they peered down into it and both snorted.

  “Are those ducks?” Gavin said.

  “Perhaps they are more dangerous than they seem. Razor sharp bills. Poisoned feathers. I don’t know . . . something.”

  “They’re fuckin’ ducks, Fran.”

  “Perhaps the king and queen of Trulia never imagined a knight could defeat the goblins and their dragon. Or maybe they simply ran out of ideas.”

  “Doesn’t matter to me. Ducks are good. I’m happy with ducks.”

  “Good. I’m glad. Because you’re about to swim alongside them.”

  “Son of a bitch.”

  Gavin snorted his disapproval, but still lowered himself into the water, letting Francis climb onto his back. The ducks quacked at them and paddled closer to watch as the prince rode his hog across the moat.

  “What the fuck are you lookin’ at, you feathery fuckin’—”

  “Watch your language, Gavin. The princess may hear you.”

  They swam across the water with no incident. Gavin shook himself off, rolled around in the dirt to get a nice layer of mud over him, then stared up at the tower beside Francis.

  “You ready for this, Fran?”

  “Of course. I mean . . . I think so.”

  “Know what you’re gonna say to her? Don’t get all poetic, all right? You’ve already got a reputation of havin’ a little sugar in your shoes.”

  “Where did you hear—”

  “Doesn’t matter. Don’t be too soft, but don’t pull your cock out and slap her with it either. You follow?”

  “Perhaps this was a bad idea.”

  “You’re just now figuring that shit out?”

  After facing knights and thugs and goblins and dragons, the idea of marching up the tower steps and introducing himself to the legendary Princess of Trulia, the girl whose beauty had become legend over the years, filled him with more dread than any of the dangers or monsters combined.

  “Don’t worry. ‘I just killed all the goblins and the Goblin Dragon and I’m here to rescue you’ is one hell of a fuckin’ pick up line. You’re golden.”

  “But I didn’t. I didn’t do any of those things.”

  “She doesn’t need details. Besides, if it wasn’t for you, she’d still be a prisoner. Whether it was your bravery or your gold or your giant fuckin’ cock and balls that saved her doesn’t matter. What matters is she’s about to step foot outside this tower for the first time since . . . ”

  “Over twenty years. That’s what the men at the tavern said.”

  “Fuck me. She’s gonna dive on you pussy first, Fran. Now go get her, you pansy ass!”

  Francis took a deep breath, smoothed out the front of his shirt, and then stepped toward the door.

  ***

  He didn’t know what he expected when the massive iron door slammed shut behind him. But it definitely wasn’t the overpowering scent of rot and feces. The air was so thick with the smell, it was nearly impossible to breathe, and the realization
that the princess might be dead and decaying up there suddenly dawned on him.

  She’s dead. She’s probably been dead for years.

  He feared what he would find at the top of the tower, and he nearly turned right around and walked back out the door, but then he heard the voice. It was hardly more than a whisper, but it drifted down the stone steps and tickled his eardrum like a fairy’s wing.

  Singing. She’s singing!

  The tingle of song trance began at his toes and started to wiggle its way up his body, but Gavin swung his snout into Francis’s groin, knocking his testicles into his leg and dropping him to his knees.

  “Why?” Francis said as he grimaced and gasped for breath.

  “Because if you start that singing shit again, I’ll fuckin’ kill you myself.”

  Francis nodded as he climbed back to his feet. “You’re right. There will be time for songs later.”

  “Be a man and go claim your maiden!”

  Francis grinned wide as he ascended the stairway. His slow and careful steps soon became a run, and he couldn’t keep himself from giggling like a child as he got closer to the princess.

  And then the world will understand the error of their ways. She will be the symbol for change. And if the legends are true, no one will be able to ignore her beauty.

  At the very top sat another door. And her voice sang from the other side. Francis couldn’t make out the words, but he could tell by the tone of her voice that the stories had been true. That this was the most gorgeous woman to ever draw a breath.

  Here we go. Stay strong, Francis. This is what you always wanted.

  Gavin raised his brow, jerked his head to the side as if to hurry Francis along.

  The door was heavy, but Francis managed to shove it open with both hands. He wiped the sheen of sweat from his brow, and stepped lightly into the room. It was a small room, the floor cobbled with smooth black stone. There was one window, blue moonlight spilling in and sparkling off the floor and walls.

  At first, Francis didn’t see her. Whatever she had been singing before had cut off, and the only sound now was a strange buzzing that he couldn’t identify. The scent of excrement and spoiled meat was strong enough to change the color of his clothes.

  “Oh . . . goddamn.” Gavin oinked, his hooves clicking over the floor as he stepped forward.

  “What is it?” But Francis saw what the pig had seen the moment the words flowed from his lips.

  There she was. The legendary Princess of Trulia. The woman for whom countless knights had perished in an attempt to save and claim their prize.

  The princess sat on her knees in the corner. A tall mound of shit stood just in front of her—a good twenty years’ worth. One of her hands sat on the floor just in front of her knees. She swept it in all directions chaotically, her elbow bending and unbending as she swung it. The other hand was in the air, circling in the same rhythm as her face and eyes.

  “Princess?” Francis said, and followed Gavin toward the girl.

  A gruff laugh seeped out from her crusted lips. The corners of her mouth were riddled with small red bumps, nests of oily boils that fanned out over her cheeks.

  Her hand darted forward like the head of a snake, and then she turned to face Francis, grinning her awful smile. What teeth she had left were black, wide gaps between most. The gums were dark with disease, red veins like tiny millipedes clinging to the wet flesh.

  She held out her hand, her forefinger and thumb pressed together. Francis had to squint, but he saw the fly’s legs thrashing, its iridescent body twitching, wings flitting.

  “She doesn’t mind,” the princess said, then ran her tongue across the wriggling insect. “It doesn’t hurt her. She’ll be reborn a thousand times.”

  The princess popped the bug into her mouth and chewed. Her other hand still wiggled across the ground. She had some kind of glove on it, something furry, but Francis couldn’t make it out, and he was reluctant to get any closer to this woman.

  She’s mad. She’s completely insane.

  “She’s fuckin’ loony,” Gavin said. “But that is one impressive pile of shit.”

  Francis cleared his throat, forced a smile. “My princess,” he said. “My name is Prince Francis of the kingdom Granada. I’m here to—”

  “He’s here to pop your cherry, my princess.” The voice was hoarse and scratchy, every word harsh and painful.

  “Tessa,” the princess said. “Don’t be rude.”

  “She’s been here so long, she’s starting to look like a fuckin’ goblin.”

  Gavin snorted when Francis kicked him in the hind quarter.

  “Princess. Please do not be afraid. I have come to take you away from this place. After being imprisoned for so long, today is the day your feet touch something other than stone. The goblins are defeated. The Goblin Dragon is slain.” Francis took a knee, bowed his head. “Please, my princess. Allow me the honor of escorting you away from here.”

  There was silence for a long while, only the flies’ buzzing shattering the quiet.

  Soft, scraping footsteps.

  “You are the brave knight?” Her voice was almost child-like, so light and fragile that a small breeze could have carried it away.

  “Well, I am not exactly—”

  “The king and queen of Trulia, my parents, spoke of this day. They said it would be difficult for a time, but that a mighty knight would one day rescue me, defeat the monsters who have tormented me for so long. I never thought this day would come. Are . . . are you real?”

  Francis stood and faced her. She placed her quivering, grimy hand on his chest, then pulled it quickly away as if it was hot metal.

  “You’re not real at all. Your chest is made of dream clay.” The princess started to back away, chin bunched up like she was about to cry.

  “Let’s kill it and eat it,” that rough voice said again. But Francis watched the Princess move her lips, saw her throat undulate. She had spoken these words herself, though it didn’t seem possible for her dainty mouth to utter such a sound.

  “Tessa, we can’t eat dream people. It never works and it makes my stomach hurt.”

  Francis reached out and seized the princess by the wrist, then pressed her palm against his chest again. Then he placed his lips over her knuckles and kissed them, taking away the taste of sweat and spoiled cream.

  “I promise you, sweet princess. I am as real as you are. As real as these stone walls. As real as the goblin’s blood now soaking into the soil of the Dark Wilderness.”

  The princess let her hand rest on his chest, staring into his eyes. She gasped, then slammed her bony body against his, wrapped her arms around him.

  “You’re real. You’re really real. You’re really, really, really—”

  “We got it, lady,” Gavin snorted.

  “Who’s the ham?” the scratchy voice said.

  “I’m a fuckin’ valiant steed.”

  “This is Gavin,” Francis said as he lightly pulled himself away from the rank, psychotic woman. The fabric of her tattered shirt stuck to his, and it made a ripping sound when they parted, flakes of dried pus and blood snowing across his boots. “My greatest and most trusted friend. When I was ban—uh, when I left Granada to begin my quest, I asked him to come along. For companionship and counsel.”

  “And bacon. Admit it, Prince Flower Picker. You brought the pig in case you got hungry on your quest.”

  “Tessa!”

  Francis laughed, but when he looked down at Gavin, the hog was glaring at him, as if he found some truth to the harshly spoken words.

  “What? I never . . . Enough about us. We are here for you. Now please. Let us waste no more time in this dreadful tomb. The breeze is waiting to caress your skin again. The grass yearns to tickle the bottoms of your feet. The stars—”

  “Gettin’ soft, Fran.” Gavin oinked and nudged Francis in the knee with his snout.

  “The world waits to lay its eyes upon your beauty once more. It has been far too long, my princes
s.” Francis held his hand out and smiled.

  The princess’s smile slowly slackened, and she reached her hand to her head and raked her nails across her scalp. Francis could see the various bald spots there, each one freckled with scabs and open wounds. Flies landed there to taste the infection before zooming back to the pile of feces in the corner.

  “My beauty? You . . . you find me beautiful, brave knight?”

  Francis couldn’t find any words, but then realized he had remained silent for too long. “Your magnificence has become legend in the realm. Men speak of you with sparkles in their eyes.”

  “Yes,” she said. “That’s what they always say.”

  A soft music began to play, and Francis nearly jumped and clapped for joy. A song would brighten things up just right.

  “Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” Gavin said. “I’ll just . . . I’ll be . . . Squeal!”

  Gavin charged across the room and dove head-first into the mountain of waste. He snorted happily as he buried himself in it, rolled around.

  The music grew louder and the princess spun on her toes and twirled.

  THE VOICES THINK I’M PRETTY

  I’ve been told since the day I was born that I’m gorgeous

  Now I’m old and my skin smells like almonds and oranges

  The king and queen, my parents, they said that I’m special,

  But now my knees and legs are full of deep flesh holes,

  And my teeth are thick with plaque and diseased and inky black.

  What hair I have is gritty . . .

  At least the voices think I’m pretty.

  For so long I’ve been trapped all alone

  in this tower, waiting for

  A brave knight to break in and deflower,

  My poo-say

  Was so clean and smelled fresh as a tulip, but these days

  It’s infected and dripping with fluid,

  And my body’s skin and bone,

  and I’ve been here so long alone.

  My ribs push through my titties . . .

  At least the voices think I’m pretty.

  Prince Francis: The voices, you say? I don’t hear anything.

  Princess: Of course not. How could you hear anything with all those beetles in your ears?