Short short story II/49

Heartbreaker (by Andrew West)

Her hair danced above the waves, and monsters snapped at it. She teased them for a time, watching movement in the dusk. A hero approached, shadowy and magnificent against the fiery sunset. She watched him traverse the Wastes, seduce the Moatkeeper in... verse? Impressive. He recited the incantation to lift the starcloak, the tower shuddered into view and he climbed her hair like an acrobat.

She waited, all pink and girly.

'What is the most beautiful word in existence?' she asked.

'Her.'

'And the least?'

'There are no ugly words, just ugly meanings.'

She nodded. 'Now, how am I going to get down?'

His eyes flicked, as always, around the unbroken curve of the walls.

'No door?'

'My father was a dragonlord.'

He drew his sword. 'Then we shall cut your hair, and descend together!'

She pointed to the dressing table. 'I could have broken my mirror if I'd wanted to do that. I like my hair.'

'I shall steal rope from a nearby village, and...'

'But the parapet is razor diamond, my love. My hair is the only substance strong enough to withstand it.'

'I will find a way.'

But his eyes said otherwise.

'Tell me, traveller, do you dream of other helpless maidens? With beauty greater than mine?'

'No.'

'You're lying.'

She pushed him daintily from the window, leaning forward to watch her boys thrash. Her father had been right: who could be fairer? She gazed into the mirror, and waited for an answer.

[The second short short story series is announced and explained here.]