(100 words) It was there, she could see it. The magic spinning wheel. Only the queen had been allowed to touch it and before that, the queen mother and so on. Since the queens death, no one had dared touch it, not even to put it away for safe-keeping.
The lovely young maid, longed to place her slender hands on the rich, dark mahogany surface, it called to her mournfully. She could hear how badly it wanted to sing. She could make it sing, she knew it.
Gingerly, timidly she sat upon the stool and placed her hand on the wheel.
I can’t believe it, I found it! I actually found it!
I reread the first line I’d written in my diary. Was that only a few days ago? How long had I been here?
I couldn’t tell. I was deep, very deep underground. My cell was small but not inhumanely so, thank goodness. Especially considering how very small these people are.
My backpack had been searched, my utility knife confiscated as well as my lighter and camp utensils, but they let me keep everything else. Well, almost everything. They got very excited when they found my cell phone, which they also took.
So, I have my diary, my pen and pencil and my clothes. I’m locked in a cell, fed four times a day and let out twice to relieve myself, always under guard. I can see no way to escape, yet.
It wasn’t until a group of young Gnome men started viewing me in my cell at regular intervals, that I realized; I was up for sale.