Writetober day 2: Weave

My hands are numb, yet I continue to weave. The queen wished for a new rug in the dining hall and the king asked for a grander flag than what we have. The prince wanted new bedding and the princess a new dress for the dance. So I'll weave.

I'll weave and weave until made what they wanted. The spools are loaded with string and I begin my dance.

For hours I sit and when I'm done I've made bed sheets fluffier then clouds, rugs fresher then grass, flags displaying all the kings deeds and a dress that shines brighter then diamonds.

They cry in joy and ask for more.

The king wants tapestry of his family, the queen even grander dresses and the maids wish for cleaner clothes.

Well what's one night of no sleep.

I sit back down and begin my art.

By morning I'm done and the dresses are more valuable than gold, the tapestry displays each morsel of the kings face and the maids dresses are embroidered with harden gold.

The kings eyes grow bright and I'm set to work once more.

"I want a coat of rubies!" The king demands.

"I want shoes of pure gold!" The prince asks.

"Give me silk of unknown colors!" The queen wished.

"Grant is swords of dragons flame!" The knight's declared.

"Give me a tiara of glass!" The princess said.

"We want tools to dust better!" The maids told me.

The requests flooded in and I got back to work.

What's one more sleepless night.

With spools of grandeur I begin to weave. My fingers now bleed as I cut myself on the glass. My skin is burned from treading needles through fire and my eyes have yet to close.

Yet I continue and I deliver.

Now the commoners know my deeds and I take request after request without sleep. As days grow the distinction between the poor and the wealthy are gone, and soon one can't see where their clothes and and their skin begin.

"Turn me golden!" The king asked.

"Make me beautiful!" The princess begged.

"I want to grow closer to my art!"

So I sowed and waved and worked it I'll my bones grew bear. I spoiled tread from gold and danced it through the kings skin. I pierced the princess with my tops and turned her string to beautiful roses.

I wove the queen into her paintings making sure her smile stood eternal.

Soon the townsfolk made their wishes and I spooled their dreamed to truths. I made them to strong and wove them to objects and shapes no eye had seen before.

Last to stay in sorrow and still dreaming was the child of a baker.

One who wasn't dreaming for something. Simply living today as the future.

I asked the child of their wish and they simply said.

"I wish for a friend."

My tired gaze moved from the child and towards the now empty spool next to me.

My body was too tired to move. Now only repeating the motions of my work. The thought of rest now gone from me.

I couldn't take the child away nor could I call for someone.

So I did what I knew to do.

I weaved.

I pulled myself to my tools and began to weave. Each motion ingrained into them and soon I was simply string myself. My tools they moved and worked and weaved the child their friend.

That day the child left the castle and the now abstract silence it had become, walking side by side with a small string doll.