Short Story Competition!

The Tapestry

by Esther (Year 10)

Once upon a time, in a bountiful kingdom, there lived a king and his pregnant queen. All of the kingdom shared in their joy, for both the king and queen were much loved by people; during their rein the kingdom had prospered and its citizens had want for little. However the queen died in childbirth and her child, a son, lay dying beside her. In desperation the king prayed to the god of death to spare his only son and heir.

Out of the shadows the god of death creped. Tall and menacing he loomed over the king, “I will save your son, but it will cost you.”
The king fell to his knees, “I’ll give you anything.”
The god of death placed his hands over the dying boy and removed his life thread. At once the prince’s fading life thread grew vibrant and full of colour. The god of death wove the thread into a tapestry, “As long as this tapestry remains whole, your son will live”, he said. The king wept in gratitude but he knew nothing of the prize he had to pay. The god of death had woven the kingdom into the tapestry. While the prince lived, the kingdom died.

As the prince grew from baby into child signs of the curse became apparent. The prince was healthy and strong while the kingdom citizen’s became weak and ill. Plague and famine swept across the lands, crops died, the water became polluted and many died. Not even the king was spared; he developed a hacking cough and was crippled by arthritis. The people in the kingdom believed the prince was a cursed child, all their troubles stemmed from his birth. The servants in the castle treated the child well but behind their smiles lay their hostility and fear.

As the prince grew older he became concerned with the dreadful state of the kingdom. He often spent time imagining ways he could ease the suffering of the people. He searched for answers but never found any. By the time the prince was sixteen he had turned into a handsome young man and most of the kingdom was a bleak and desolate place. So one day, against the king’s wishes, the prince set out on a journey to find the source of the curse.

Every where the prince went he was met with suspicion, often open hostility. Once the royal family had been adored, now they were hated, especially the cursed prince. Along the way the prince begun to discard his royal attire, little by little, until one day he was dressed as a peasant. The god of death could no longer recognize the prince beneath the filth and worn clothing and so the prince to fell victim to the curse.

One day the prince arrived, coughing and weak at a derelict cottage in the middle of a vast forest. It was so secluded there that the god of death had not yet found it and it remained a safe haven. In the cottage lived an old crone, a seer, who sat in a crumbling rocking chair both oblivious and painfully aware of the outside world.

“Tell me, do you know anything about the curse that is killing the kingdom?” the prince asked her.
“It is you who is causing it”, the crone answered. Stunned the prince fell to his knees. “What can I do?” he gasped.
“Ask your father where he has hidden it”
“Hidden what?
“The tapestry”, she answered, “that’s all I can tell you. Even this much has cost me my beauty and my youth.” The crone held up a mirror and reflected there was the face of a beautiful young woman.

The prince began his journey home. Now each time he saw the twisted dead trees, the countless dead being buried in mass graves and all the suffering he felt guilty, knowing it was his fault. Eventually the prince arrived at the castle, sick, almost delirious, so changed was he that his father did not recognize him at first. The king washed all the dirt of the road off and dressed him in all the finery befitting a prince. Once again the god of death could recognize him and so his health was restored. However the prince cared about none of this, all he cared about was finding the tapestry, but the king would tell him nothing and so the prince searched alone.  

For a long period the prince found nothing and so he grew sad and distant. How could he bear to see the kingdom and its’ citizens suffer knowing he was to blame, that it was his fault. One day the prince found an enormous bird, a phoenix, with wings of fire that gleamed like gold in the midday sun. The phoenix lay sprawled, half dead in the castle courtyard.
“I can tell you where the tapestry is” the fire bird said. “They kept it with me.”
“Where?” the prince asked, overjoyed.
“In the highest room in the tallest tower.”

The prince travelled the short distance to the towers apex. The guards had abandoned his post when the phoenix left. They thought they had been guarding the phoenix and not the tapestry. The corridor was eerily quiet.

The prince stepped inside the chamber and was followed by the phoenix. In the far corner hung the tapestry, the gold threads glittered and the images shimmered as though it was not one day older than new. Exhausted from the effort of the climb the phoenix collapsed. With his last breath he whispered, “Only when the tapestry is destroyed can order be restored to the kingdom and balance returned.” The phoenix burst into flames and the prince turned to face the tapestry. “No more death” he said and cut the tapestry in half. Suddenly all life force drained from him. As the prince lay dying he turned to see the phoenix rising from its ashes. As too will the kingdom now that the curse has lifted.