The lost princess

The room was dull and c honest-to-god, cold with marks of irrigate dripping down the unhomely painted w tout ensembles. The coat slabs were freezing and impersonally decorated, there were no carpets covering them. there was no life nor humanity in the semidark chamber. There was no door nor curtains on the slender window that looked on to the north, making the room even to a greater extent dark and mysterious. It was unhomely and unlived. No one entered the freezing cube that composed the enchanted, indignant lodging. It was empty of life even though the passage outside was upright of it.The place was avoided by everyone. It had such a sense of emptiness When the threshold was crossed, a wave of uncontrollable panic entered into the intruders heart. The floor boards under the feet snarl as cold as ice, sharpening the freezing terror. The walls were clammy, you couldnt lean on themIt smelt damp. The air entered your throat and cut it like a knife. It felt dry and it was hard to swallow. The fear crept into your heart slowly but unceasingly and do its self bigger and stronger, petrifying you completely. It was like a serpents venom, spreading through with(predicate) your blood paralysing you vein by vein, artery by arteryShe entered the poisoned room. No sound was to be heard except for the faint drip, drip of water on the floor. For the first time in the rooms history, it all failed. She laughed. It was a delectable laugh. The type you hear when a child is hugged by her mother. She frowned as the utter slowly returned to her. She felt a sudden warmth around her. She observe that the floor was now covered in thick Indian carpets. It all felt cosy and warm under her nonaged feet. She moved with the glamour and gentleness of a deer, so delicate and fragileThere was a lovely scent all over the room. It was like someone had loose a bottle of the loveliest perfume and let it mix with the air. It smelt of the finest vanilla. looking at out of the windo w you could see the source of that magnificent smell. There was a small garden full of small vanilla plants, starting to height in the nights cold air.The room was now painted in the finest violet. The walls had stop the dripping and sweating, and instead of the faint drip, drip you could hear a small bird tweeting in a tiny cage at the faraway end of the room.Soon she felt sleepy and noticed a new of warm air picking her up and carrying her to a cosy four-poster. There she slept for hours and hoursAs she slept the walls started to drip again soaking the silk carpets and returning the room to its old state to such an extent, that after a few minutes except the four-poster stood in the middle of the icy room. There was no sign of the tiny princess. Instead there was a little deer skipping and hopping under the corn liquor in a garden full of tiny vanilla flowers.