#libyrinthes

She had odd hair, tufts of black that stuck out like the crown of a dark phoenix, but sideways. It made her frightening to the rest of the king's fair-skinned children, so he kept her inside his masterpiece maze, the one he had broken four knuckles working on: the first, from pulling too many dandelions out of the ground where the maze was to be built, the second, from holding an iron hammer in his injured hand, and the last two because he thought two broken knuckles was not enough to deem a hand useless. She always thought he was referring to her whenever he passed by the structure with an esteemed guest, and, waving a gloved hand towards her willowy body tucked behind the walls of twine, would call it his greatest treasure.