Fairy Tale Retellings, Sleeping Beauty: Slumber
“Tell me your symptoms.”
The girl tucked a strand behind the rosy shell of her ear. She did it slowly, as if raising her arm and touching her black hair with her fingers was something that required all her concentration, all her energy.
Nettle folded her hands and placed them on the desk in front of her, giving Min a patient smile.
“It feels as if… there is a vine growing in my skull.” Her words came in a halting fashion, almost in a drawl, as if they had to drag themselves out of her lungs and had to crawl out of her mouth. “A vine,” she continued, “that digs into my head. It has thorns, and they split my brain.”
She touched her temple with trembling fingers. Her skin had a sickly hue and shone with perspiration. It looked like wax. “It hurts.”
“When does it hurt?” Nettle asked.