Sunday, August 1, 2010

a rough draft of the first section of a children's story that I am working on...


The Pink Cloud

Princess Clementine was a very fortunate little girl. She lived in a castle, for one thing. And she had a lovely bedroom, full of the things that most little girls love. She had a great big bed with a canopy, all white and flowy, where she could hide away and pretend. She had dolls of every size and age, from delicate little dollhouse people, to a nearly life-size doll that had it's own dresses to match Clementine's. She had wonderful books and toys, and paints, and colored pencils, and dress-up clothes. She had a Mother, who was the Queen, and a Father, who was the King, and a baby sister, and they all loved her. Clementine loved them, too, and you might think that she would always be happy and well behaved, and while most of the time she was, she had her moments of discontent as well.

Clementine loved to climb up into her window seat and daydream. Most days she would spend an hour or two there, watching the clouds, or the birds, or just thinking. She would look down on the little garden where she grew her favorite flowers, and she would look up at the sky and at the pink cloud that always seemed to be hovering nearby. This cloud really was always pink, it was quite odd. Even on clear days, it became nearly white, but still it remained the palest, most delicate pink. When the sun began to set, it would get all purpley and sometimes even orange on it's edges, but ever the pink remained. When it rained down on Clementine's little garden, it became quite grayish, but a decidedly pinky gray. It was a beautiful cloud, fluffy and soft-looking, and Clementine loved it.

Who knows what planted the idea in Princess Clementine's head, but one day she woke up, just knowing that she had to have that pink cloud. It wasn't enough that she could watch it from her window each day; she wanted for her own. In her bedroom. She wanted to sleep on it, play on it, jump off of it, and into it. The pink cloud was all she could think about. So when her Father, the King, came into Clementine's room one morning, and asked her what she might like for her birthday, she didn't have to think about it at all. "that cloud, Daddy!" she said, "the pink one outside my window - I want to have it here, in my room, please." The King scratched his head, finding his daughter's request very strange, but he saw the sincerity in her eyes, and set off to find out how he might get a cloud out of the sky.