Personal Narrative Essay

Eff was absolutely certain that if she didn’t get this mission right, she was to be beheaded. She’d never heard of the royal family to be very lenient, so if this person she had to save had even a scratch, she was sure to be a goner.
The mission was simple. Go into the forest, find a tower, save someone, bring them back alive. Eff was okay with the forest; the forest was good. The forest was predictable. But this wasn’t just “The Forest.” This was the Dark Forest, where thieves and monsters ran rampant and feelings like compassion and mercy were nonexistent. That was a tad less predictable than the regular old forest.
Eff blew it off like it was a stray hair in front of her face. This was EFF. And this was THE QUEEN. Queen Marsaili never put anyone in unnecessary danger. Except for when she sent a hundred troops to fight a dragon that was only trying to nest. Or when Sorcerer Evander was forced to go fight a clan of gnomes

for making the Dark Forest breeze smell of liquor after their traditional celebration. And then there was the entire Great War….. Okay, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. But if anything went wrong, Eff could handle it. She’d had to ‘handle it’ for the last ten years, working from dawn until dusk, crashing on her bed, only to wake up before the sun has even shown a wink of coming up.
But if she succeeded, then she wouldn’t ever have to work again. She was promised riches and such from the Queen. Maybe she could even convince ol’ Marsaili to let her keep the horse that was lent to her for the mission.
Her mind wandered for the next few hours; the only sounds to be heard were the gentle rustle of the leaves, the rhythmic trotting of the horse, and various animal noises. She was so lost in thought, she didn’t notice as the leaves got thinner and thinner and the melodic tweets and twitters diminished into nothing as they got deeper into the Dark Forest. Only when her stomach started to growl agonisingly did she take in her surroundings.
By now, she was so deep in that there were no leaves at all, only dead trees, with limbs like etchings carving into the dark purple sky. Here, the lights from the castle and the villages couldn’t outshine the stars, so they filled the entire sky. Eff ate it up like cake. As she watched the sky, the horse came to a stop in front of a large tower.
After dismounting her steed, she tied it to a branch nearby and turned to survey how she was to save the person. There were thick vines covering the tower.
“What do you think, kiddo?” She said aloud to the horse.

“you think there might be a better way to get inside? Because I am NOT climbing THAT.”
The horse didn’t reply.
“Right,’ Eff muttered, “Horses don’t talk.”
She walked around the base of the tower until she found a rock that looked suspiciously placed on the ground. She pulled her sword from it’s scabbard and plunged it into the ground it went right through. Eff smiled. This ground was hollow. She lifted the rock without difficulty. Sure enough, beneath the rock was a trap door. She opened it and a warm air that smelled like butterscotch and pastry wafted out.
“Haha!” She squealed. “Elsie, I found the entrance!”
Again the horse ignored her, munching on the Dark Forest Weed that grew in abundance here. Eff rolled her eyes and slipped in through the small door, closing it behind her. She could see how this person had never escaped before; closed, the door was barely visible, and even if they could see it, the rock would have been too heavy for anyone that had been in this place for very

long.
In front of her, a winding staircase ascended through the ceiling into another room. Inside, the smell of butterscotch grew stronger and the room felt comfortably warm compared to the crisp air outside. She cautiously unsheathed her sword and started to climb the staircase. She poked her head into the room above as soon as she got high enough. Inside was a quaint bedroom with a bed decked in a multi-colored quilt, several stuffed animals, dove down pillows, and discarded dresses, a vanity painted pastel colors, a large mahogany armoire, and an ebony writing desk, but there was no one to be seen. However, the stairs continued upwards, so Eff sighed and kept on. The next floor was a bathroom with an iron washing tub, a silver chamberpot, and several embroidered towels. Then there was a small room with books covering the North and South walls, while the East and West had enormous windows and a single chair sat in one corner.
Finally, she reached the room where the butterscotch scent came from. This floor was the kitchen, with a wood stove and a small table with only one chair. The person in the kitchen didn’t hear her come in, so Eff took some time to assess the situation. All she saw of the person was long black hair that was tied tightly into a braid and dark skin; her dress looked homemade and worn, she was plump, and her feet were bare. Eff slipped her sword back into its scabbard soundlessly and watched as the girl opened the small window, bending over and pulling a pie out of the stone oven, and placing it on the windowsill.
“That should do i-” She said to herself, stopping immediately as soon as she saw Eff. Her brown eyes widened to the size of the pie as she lept for a knife. In her hurry, she actually picked up a spoon still covered in what looked like icing.
“Woah, there,” Eff exclaimed, holding up her hands. “I’m only here to help you. I was sent to retrieve you by Her Majesty Queen Marsaili.”
The scared girl lowered her sugary weapon. “Then who are you?” She inquired.
“I’m Carson Effie,” She said, and in a desperation to make the subject calm, she added, “But all my friends call me Eff.”
“Eff…” She echoed. “Alright. My name is Moyna.”
“Like, Princess Moyna?” She remembered the tale of how the Great War was started, a group of rebels took the royal family hostage and killed young princess, who was only a year old at the time.
“That’s what they call me.” She huffed, flopping into the lonely chair. Quickly, Eff dropped to her knees and bowed. “Oh, please!” Moyna laughed, “I’m not a princess here.”
Eff rose back to her feet, trying to keep calm. Here was a royal that had been considered dead since before she could eat solid foods.