‘Another day, like thousands before.’
He thought, looking out the window facing him. The weather was fair, the sun shone, and she had opened the window.
Lucy settled on the window sill. His only friend and companion singing her ancient song of freedom. A story speaking of green fields, tall mountains, blue sky and the wind beneath wings. When the little swallow had finished her song she hopped into the room.
“Hello.” She said. “How are you? Anything new today?”
“Hello.” He said. “I feel as I always do.”
“But she got a phone call today. I could listen in on her. I think she is going to have some visitors today.”
“Oh, my Dear.” Lucy answered compassionately. “Another couple of people starring at you, going on and on about the unique brush strokes and colour combination. Debating if the beautiful blooming apple tree was taken from nature or the artists imagination. Botanists still have not identified it, despite the meticulous details.” Lucy imitated the usual spiel. She hopped closer. “You must have heard this hundred times over.”
“Oh please Lucy don’t mention the apple tree! I am not even able to see it. You know I can’t turn my head!” He paused wistfully. “Would you mind singing your song once again for me?”
So she did. Lucy sang again.
Some hours later he heard the door opening. He saw them approaching, she stood in front of him with an elderly couple telling his story again.
“So my Dears, that’s him the famous Sir Captitus in his iron armor. He is said to be bound to this picture by a spell. The only hope for his soul is the beautiful blooming apple tree behind him that he will never be able to see. The legend says, the day the curse lifts its pedals will gently shower him and his figure disappear from the painting.”
“He was a very bad knight slaughtering many people just for fun, until he fell in love with a farmer’s daughter. But because she was just a farmers daughter he could never marry her. So he abducted her while she was walking alone, and locked her into a tower where she spend her life in prison, doing his bidding.”
“But one day the beautiful girl could not take this life in prison any longer. She jumped out of the window, and at the place where she landed this beautiful blooming apple tree started to grow.”
“The girl’s mother, who had tried to free her child for a long time came to know of the incident and laid a spell on Sir Captitus. She painted this picture binding his soul for eternity, or until he found a true friend that would sing for him, the ancient song of freedom and soften his heart.”
He had heard this story—his story—more than a thousand times during his captivity, but only now, in this very moment, he recognized that he never had listened before.
This is one of the old stories I found. It was a 20 minute writing exercise during class. I edited a little (as my written English at the time was really bad), but not enough to change the tone or writing level of the story.