Wednesday, 2 September 2015

Happiness is... - mono-syllabic - 3 bad adj - question - The Happy Prince

Today's #afewwordsaday #KAFWAD submission
Why not join me? Today's prompts are below. Prompts for the rest of the week are in a separate post just below.

2nd September 2015
I have re-told the whole story by 'hugging the text'. Why not try a summary of the story?

FMS Photo a day: Happiness is...
text type:            Mono-syllabic
Sentence type:     3 bad adj - question
Story:                  The Happy Prince

Mono-syllabic: only words with one syllable are permitted!
An adjective, describes the noun (person, place or object). Use three negative adjectives followed by a dash and a question.

High up on a tall plinth, stood the Prince, cast in gold and gems of bright hues marked his eyes, lips and sword-hilt.
He awed the town folk with his good looks.
‘He has the charm of a wind vane, with none of its use,’ sneered the Mayor.
‘Why can’t you be like the Prince of Bliss?’ asked a wise mum when her small boy cried for the moon. ‘The Prince of Bliss does not cry for what he can’t reach.’
‘I am glad there is one man in the world with bliss,’ sighed a man who was down in the dumps, as he gazed up at the prince.
One night a small bird flew past. His friends had flown to hot climes. They had been there for six weeks: the small bird was late. He had stayed with the reed he loved so much but now had tired of her. She would not fly off with him to see new sights and find a new home in the sun.
The bird saw the prince on his plinth and thought he would stay with him. ‘What a great place! What great sights!’
The bird as he made his bed, so he could go to sleep, he felt drops of what he thought was rain – but there was no cloud in the sky, and the stars shone as bright as the street lights.  
This seemed to not be such a great place to stay! As he spread his wings to fly off, he looked up and saw the prince. He saw eyes filled with tears, and streams of tears on his gold cheeks. The bird felt sad for him.
‘Who are you?’
‘I am the Prince of Bliss.’
‘So why are you so glum?’
‘When I was a real boy, I did not know what tears were. I lived where gloom, hurt, pain and angst were banned. I did not know of a world out of my home and the tall wall which wrapped around my home. I played all day, I danced at night. I had friends. It was bliss: my aides called me the Prince of Bliss. Now I am dead, they have set me up here and all I can see is a bleak world. Cruel, bleak, doomed – why did they plague me with this?
‘Far off, I can see a poor wretch with a sick boy.  I can see her sew a gown for the Queen’s maid with her coarse, red hands. Please, my friend, take the red gem from my sword –hilt to her so she can buy him some food!’
The bird, who should have flown by now (it was too cold for him), did as he was asked. When he flew back, he thought it odd, but he felt quite warm.
‘You have done a good deed,’ said the prince.  The next day the bird was all set to fly south, when the prince asked for one more task. ‘There is a man. He needs to finish a play, but he is too cold to write. Take one of my eyes to him, He will sell it and buy food and coal.’
‘I can't do that,’ sobbed the bird.
‘Dear bird, do as I tell you!’
When he came back the prince asked him to stay for one more night. ‘It’s cold,’ said the bird. ‘I will be chilled by the snow. In the south, the sun is hot on the green palms. My friends have built nests in the temples. I must leave you. In the spring, I will come back and I will bring new gems. I will bring more gems!’
‘In the square is a young match-girl, her dad will beat her if she does not sell. See how she cries!’
‘I will stay just one more night, but I will not pluck out your eye, or you will be blind.’
‘Dear bird, do as I tell you!’
The match-girl’s heart leapt when she saw it and she skipped home full of joy.
‘Now you must fly south.’
‘You are blind now, so I will not leave you.’ He slept at feet of the prince. The next day he flew round the town and told the prince what he had seen: pain, stress, hurt.
‘Take my gold leaf and give it to the poor. Folk think gold can make them feel good.’
Leaf by leaf the bird helped the prince give his gold to those at a loss and with no hope. ‘We have bread now!’ they laughed and played. Now the prince was dull and grey, and the air was cold and grey.
Cold, numb, on his last legs – would the bird leave now?
At last he knew he would soon die. He had just the strength to fly up to where the prince could hear him. ‘Good-bye, dear prince! Will you let me kiss your hand?’
And then he fell to the ground, dead at his feet. Right then, the heart of the prince snapped in two. It was a hard frost.
At dawn, the Mayor said, ‘How grim! What tat! The gems are lost!’
His aides chimed in, ‘Where is his gold?’ ‘He is worse than a tramp!’ ‘There is a dead bird at his feet.’
The Mayor said, ‘As he now has no charm, he has no use at all. Tear him down. Cast me, and put me on the plinth in his place!’
In the forge, they found a lead heart that would not melt. They threw it on the dust heap next to the poor, dead, small bird.
God asked his saints for the two things with most value in the town. He was brought the lead heart and the dead bird. ‘You have picked well,’ he said. ‘The bird will sing and sing, and the Prince of Bliss will praise me.’

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