Vivian dangled her tresses in the warmth of the well water; her mother insisted that she not cut her hair and so it was long enough now that even when the water was low the tips of her long straight mane could reach it. She smiled as she shoved the stolen jujubes in her mouth, enjoying a bit of freedom. The crow-stepped gable roof was easy for her to navigate and so at every opportunity she snuck out and went into town. She loved to stand and admire the hustle and bustle of people freely going in and out of shops, particularly since this was a luxury for her. Her favorite was the discount store because it was always busy and she could slip multiple packs of candy into her tunic unnoticed. They didn’t have televisions at the castle so she also liked to stand outside the electronics store. The last album she had been permitted was “Thriller,” so whenever the music videos were on and she saw Michael Jackson, she would mimic his moves and lip sync, having memorized all the words. She’d only been caught slipping out of the house once by Mrs. Danbury, the long-serving and trusted maid; Mrs. Danbury felt for the girl and hadn’t snitched, believing it wrong to keep her cooped up in the house like a prisoner. Vivian had confessed to Mrs. Danbury that she imagined her parents were in fact 18th century throw-backs; they were royalty from a family line that had been a part of the ruling underworld regime of the region since time began. Their family photos looked like something from a horror show and included persons from all the major clans: vampires, werewolves, and ghouls. Vivian’s ancestry was primarily from the Lycan Canine strand, so Mrs. Danbury never feared for her safety in the woods. There was one particularly rambunctious pack of coyote out there, but she had faith that Vivian would be fine. However, she always made sure to stay up until the girl had safely returned from her exploits.
A snippet, written for today's Flash Fiction Chronicles prompt. Be sure and get your FFC on, every day!