ReAwakened

I'm late! Just saw this contest today, which has ended... But, I liked the concept enough to create something anyway.

Cheers to for her creative direction, putting on the: Twisted Fairytales Contest!

So, my submission has to do with Sleeping Beauty...and the story behind that fateful day...

As the stories tell, Sleeping Beauty had been put to rest. And, with the best intentions, the Fairies' sprinkled dust succeeded in sending every kingdom citizen into a deep slumber. In the end, the three fairies themselves were no match for the darkness within Maleficent. She bound them to be tortured throughout their immortality in the depths of her castle dungeon.

Certainly, no mere mortal would destroy her. Prince Phillip fought with all the might of his love, but with a flick of her wrist, amid the echoing cackles of her sadism, she tore him into dancing shreds of flesh. With his blood still drying on her grinning face, she whisked herself away to his family castle.

When she arrived, the stench of lingering fairy dust stung her nose, but beneath her black cloak, her body was flush with pleasure - for the fairies' blind hope had already brought the kingdom to its knees. Laughter burst from the black hole within her soul as a single tear of joy fell to the throne room floor. From that spot, a twisted mass of thorns erupted, engulfing the entire castle before intertwining with the trees of the nearby forest.

Countless years passed, neither a moment nor an eternity for those that slept within the cursed kingdom. Beyond its sealed gates, life continued. Their castle was struck from maps as a dark and dangerous region - avoided for generations, but the stories of Sleeping Beauty and the dark witch never faded. Finally, one brave soul dared to investigate the ruins.

Making his way through what remained of the rotted wooden door of the cursed castle's tower, he felt the sunlight blazing at his back. He was exhausted, drenched with sweat, tears carving a path through the grime on his face, mingling with the vomit on his chin - the same vomit that stained his clothing, painted with blackened, dry blood.

His eyes had to adjust to the darkness of the room beyond. There, in a dark corner of the upper room, he approached a bed with his sword still in hand. His heart lept upon viewing the form of a woman lying sweetly on its musty sheets. The fairies' rope hung between the bedposts, just as the stories foretold. It creaked in the breeze, offering respectful protection of the room's inhabitant.

He extended his arm past the rope and placed his sword onto the bed, ignoring the urge to nudge the body with its nicked blade. His eyes ran along the subtle contours of the princess. Her legs and hips softly curved together, swimming in the sheer fabric beneath her blue gown.

Climbing onto the bed, he stopped short when his gaze reached her torso. A thick black veil hid her face and covered the flesh of her bosom - staving off any lusty eyes. These features were meant only for her prince, so the fairies had once again offered their thoughtfulness.

Our panting hero was touched by the sentiment of kingdoms past. He would offer the legendary kiss as the princess would desire it. With a respect befitting of the prince of legend, he would wake her through the veil. Then, their lips could meet for a second time as they fell into one another's loving eyes.

Chivalry filled his spirit as he leaned over her. Without removing the veil, he gently caressed the dark locks of her hair that flowed over the linens like a frozen stream of raven's ice. His heart brimmed with the love of this unmatched beauty, longing to hear the voice that could make the flowers bloom, as he had always heard. His quest would be sealed with a kiss.

He softly placed his lips onto her covered face, feeling the light of his emotion flow forth from him and fill her being. A moment later, with a faint crackling sound, her chest heaved. His heart beat faster. The veil stirred, sliding slowly down her chest. More of her hair cascaded into view - before curling up and rolling down the back of the pillow.

The man's eyes grew wide and his instinct pulled him away from her until his back fell against the foot of the bed. His nerves tingled when her hand emerged from its cover, softly rubbing the calf of his left leg. Without a breath in his lungs, he whimpered, frozen with fear. Her grey, peeling flesh was rough against his skin. A long, yellow fingernail snapped when it reached his boot. Its brittle base buried into her shriveled fingertip.

He could take no more of this tainted place. It had taken hours to cut through hell's weed and enter the castle. His presence awakened hoards of cursed citizens. Countless time worn corpses hobbled toward him. Their eyes showed sadness and confusion, though many of their features had rotted away. They sought solace in this stranger's arrival, but he could offer none.

When a death-deformed servant girl laid hands on him, he brandished his sword, launching dusty, shattering limbs as he cut her down. This angered the myriad of undead subjects, and he re-murdered them all. Their large numbers meant very little, given the state of their bodies. The two mythical kings fought hardest and fell last - their withered cheeks muddied with passionate tears.

After his panic subsided, his heart still raced. The stories were confirmed - this was indeed the enchanted castle. He would not turn back. Renewed, he sought out the tower of Sleeping Beauty. But now, touched by his kiss, she slept no more.

He snapped his leg away from her side. Her hand reached out, hoping for more of her lover's contact. It fell upon his cold blade. Startled, she jerked the obstructing veil from her face and sat up. Caught in her stare, his blood froze and his skin became paler than her bedcover.

Whether it was the innocence of her womanhood or the terror that gripped him after seeing her face, he'll never know, he could not bring himself to snatch the sword and dispatch her as he had done with each cursed soul that day. No, he ran.

His legs catapulted him off of the bed. Ribs cracking and vision blurring, he landed squarely on his back. He pulled himself across the floor, battling unresponsive legs. Crashing into a pile of barbed thorns, his arm split wide open. Consciousness flirted with departure, but he wrangled it with adrenaline.

Finally, with one captured breath, he thrust himself through the doorway and began a lengthy tumble down the tower steps. Every subsequent crack against the unforgiving stones carried him further away from the abomination, so he welcomed the pain with the reverence of a savior.

At stairs end, he lurched through piles of corpses and made his way to the small hole he had bored for entry. Sunlight couldn't penetrate the living tunnel. He felt it was eating him alive. Then, the rustle of forest leaves applauded him on. He was almost through. With the last strength in his lumbering steps, he collapsed onto the overgrown, forbidden roadway.

For an instant, his face felt a wind warmed by the sun. Just as quickly, a chill swept through is body. Feeling smothered, he grasped for breath, lifting his head in search of air. All he found was the infinite darkness of a black cloak, which seemed to suck up the light and still the air.

"Malef... Mal..." His strength fell flat.

A snarl curled her lips as a fire ignited in her hollow eyes.

"Maleficent," she offered before changing her tone. "Mortal prince."