Click. Click. Click.

The beautiful princess sits bored in her tower, reading a book about other princesses and handsome princes. She herself believes that one day her own handsome prince will come for her, because, well, that's what princes do for princesses, and -

Clickclickclick.

The beautiful princess sites in her tower, bored. In her hand and in her mind is one of the many books strewn on the floor around her bed. On the open page is a picture of the most handsome prince she has ever seen, one which, she hopes, will come and save her one day. For she is a princess, and he is a prince.

Click-click-click . . .

The princess is beautiful - there is no doubt about that. Long hair tumbles from her head to her feet in lovely, loose curls, and her dress perfectly wraps around her curves. It's unfortunately, really, that nobody will ever see her beauty, because she is forever shut in this tower. Her only comfort, her only portal to the outside world are the picture books her horrible mother gave her. They depict other princesses being rescued from impossible situations by princes. She longs to be one of them.

CLICK.

Ugh.

Clickclick. Click.

Her long yellow hair falls gracefully to the floor in cascades of curls, obscuring her entire back but not enough to disguise the intricate lacing of the pink dress that so excellently accentuates her curves. It's not like anybody will ever see them, though. For as long as she can remember, she's been locked in this tall tower, seen only by her mother and the occasional mouse or cricket. She has a vague understanding of the horror of her situation; she longs to be held, to be touched, to be loved by someone she has never seen before. But of course, she cannot articulate that. She has never been given the skills to do so. All she has that gives her some picture of what is beyond the tower and the small view of the outside her window gives her are the tattered picture books, the ones about princesses in impossible situations, the ones who are rescued at long last by the handsome princes they so longed for. They give her fantasty, they give her hope, but never the power of introspection. So she sits in her tower, mildly depressed, convincing herself that she is, in fact, one of the princesses. For her situation is impossible, and someone must save her from it. All she waits for is a knock on the -

Gah!

Click. Clickclick.

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Clickclickclick.

Princess runs away with prince. The End.