The Bedtime Story: Henrietta's Terror

In an effort to combat Rachel's work-day blues, I have created a typical "bedtime story" from our days of living at the Pink House. In those days, Rachel would often retire at an early hour, and Tricia and I would take turns telling her a very spontaneous, newly created bedtime story out of our "unique" minds. These stories would often end in horror, taking an unexpected twist, and would either end with Rachel cackling maniackly or squealing in delight. Mythological creatures were given eccentric names (always appropriately named by Rachel) in a way that made them that much more real. Here is a fresh example of one (created at work, while I should have been studying, but this was way more fun!):

Once upon a time, there was a little Scandinavian prince named Henrietta. Yes, a boy named Henrietta. This was his cross to bear during his life, his name that sounded much like a prissy little girl's. Henrietta was therefore quite sassy (as is the case when you are the butt of many jokes and mockeries). He liked to wander in the forest behind the castle, skipping through the tall grasses in the meadow and slaying the tall thorns that seemed to choke the blue roses that grew there. These roses were magical.

He would often give the flowers a dementor's kiss, if you will, by sucking all the color out of the flower, draining it of its vibrancy. He was an unhappy child. Perhaps this may be the reason that royalty's blood ran blue... imagine!

One particular day when Henrietta finished his arithmetic lesson, he wandered into the forest he affectionately named Troppipsiumland. As he finished sucking the blue out of the last rose on a bush, he heard a rumbling growl behind him... or was it coming from deep in the flower?

To be continued...

Stay tuned for the next installment of Henrietta's Terror.