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Editor’s note: This is the prologue to a story written by Sophia Squire, an eighth grade home-school student who lives in St. Ansgar. The next part will be published in December.
Sophia has been writing since her 8th birthday, when she received a “write your own” storybook as a gift.
“After that, I realized I could do my own work and started thinking of my own things,” Sophia said.
Are you a young writer like Sophia? Submit your original story to firstname.lastname@example.org — we would love to read and share your work.
They needed help.
This was the only thing running through the queen’s head.
She was in a dark, damp room, tied to a large throne, her feet hardly touching the ground. A crown of wove, dying flowers was placed atop her head in an act of mock recognition, and she could feel it sliding off.
The young queen wasn’t used to this type of treatment, but last night, she’d been taken from her home. There had been much screaming, destruction and even fire that night in the majestic city of Leviana as armies stormed the streets, crushing everything in their quest for the queen.
The queen had done everything she could to help her people, harboring children in the nooks of her palace home, feeding those who were hurt, but it all ended when the armies broke into the palace and dragged the young queen away, leaving the screaming children behind without a word.
Now, she was in this room, trying to keep her emotions in check. She’d need to be calm and composed if she were to do what she needed to save her beloved people.
The door opposite her creaked open, slowly letting light in and blinding her, for she had never seen sunlight.
The queen struggled against her bonds, trying to angle her face away from the blinding light, but the rope cut into her, forcing her to stay still.
“Young Queen Mira,” the man smirked.
“Who are you?” Mira demanded, her eyes still closed.
The man chuckled. “No one of your concern.”
It was all Queen Mira could do to stay calm. “Oh really?”
She was beginning to channel her energy into a ball of muted light inside her, waiting for the right moment to let it free.
“Yes. You and your people will soon be nothing but memories --”
“Oh really?” Mira interrupted.
The man was losing patience. “Yes!”
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Mira countered, letting loose the ball of glowing energy and screaming out the words, “Help my people!” Then, the queen slumped back in her chair, unconscious.