‘Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. You must have had a few lifetimes of sleep last night.’ He kissed her forehead.
Rory roused herself, battling the fatigue that had taken possession of her whole body. Who was this man beside her?
She focused, and saw through the window an icy winter landscape, an unfamiliar garden with colourless flowers – brittle, papery, like ancient skin.
This was all wrong. She recalled her godmother’s whispered assurances, that sleep would come, and then awakening. Then she remembered her warning that this spell was new, untried, risky.
Rory wondered just who, at this moment, was awakening to her prince’s kiss.
This Sleeping Beauty hasn’t exactly followed the script, although there are several versions of the story in existence. If you’re interested, here’s a Wikipedia article with the main elements of the tale, and an overview of its variations.
This story is my contribution to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ weekly flash fiction challenge, Friday Fictioneers, where writers post 100 word stories in response to a photo prompt.