Brian Rose and the Hundred-Year Sleep
Long ago, in a kingdom wrapped in green hills and sapphire lakes, there lived a King and Queen who yearned for a child. Every day, they whispered prayers and sighed beneath the stars, “If only we had a child.” Seasons came and went, but no child came, and the royal couple’s hearts grew heavy with longing.
One crisp morning, as the Queen rode through the forest, a strange hush fell over the trees. Out from the shadows stepped a witch, so suddenly that the Queen nearly ran her over. The witch’s eyes glimmered like candle flames as she rasped, “Your wish shall be fulfilled. Before a year passes, you shall have a son.” Then she vanished into the woods, leaving the Queen’s heart racing.
True to the witch’s word, the Queen gave birth to a son, a boy so radiant and beautiful that the King declared a grand feast in his honor. Every relative, friend, and noble was invited, along with the kingdom’s thirteen Wise Women who were known to bless children with gifts of fortune. Yet there was a problem—there were only twelve golden plates at the palace. Regretfully, the King decided one of the Wise Women would have to remain uninvited.
The feast was bright with laughter and music as the Wise Women stepped forward to bless the child. One gifted him wisdom, another courage, the third beauty, the fourth kindness, and so on, until eleven blessings had been given. Just as the twelfth Wise Woman prepared to speak, the doors burst open with a gust of icy wind. In swept the thirteenth Wise Woman, her eyes sharp with hurt and anger at being excluded.
She raised her hand, her voice ringing out like a curse, “The King’s son shall prick his finger on a spindle in his fifteenth year and fall down dead!” Without another word, she turned and left, her footsteps echoing in the stunned silence.
The twelfth Wise Woman stepped forward, her face pale but determined. “I cannot undo the curse,” she said softly, “but I can soften it. He will not die but fall into a deep sleep for one hundred years, from which he will awaken.”
Terrified of losing their son, the King ordered every spindle in the kingdom to be burned. Meanwhile, the prince—named Brian Rose for his rare beauty—grew up under the blessings of the Wise Women. He was not only handsome but gentle, wise, and brave, and everyone who met him could not help but love him.
On his fifteenth birthday, while the King and Queen were away, Brian Rose found himself restless and curious. He roamed the palace halls, exploring hidden rooms and dusty chambers, hoping for an adventure. Eventually, he found a narrow staircase winding up an old tower. At the top, he discovered a small wooden door with a rusted key already in the lock.
Pushing the door open, he found a bent old woman spinning flax on a spindle, her foot working the treadle steadily.
“Good day, grandmother,” Brian Rose greeted kindly. “What are you doing?”
“I am spinning,” the old woman replied with a toothless smile.
Curious, Brian Rose reached for the spindle, asking, “May I try?” But the moment his finger touched the spindle, he felt a sharp prick, and the world swirled around him. His eyelids grew heavy, and he fell upon a nearby bed, slipping into a deep, unending sleep.
At that very moment, the entire kingdom fell into slumber. The King and Queen, returning home, fell asleep in the grand hall. Guards nodded off at their posts, and the kitchen fell silent as cooks, maids, and even the flames beneath the pots stilled. Horses slept in the stables, and pigeons perched on the roof with their heads tucked under their wings. Even the breeze ceased, and the leaves on the trees grew still.
Around the castle, a thick hedge of thorns began to grow, taller each year until it surrounded the entire kingdom, hiding it from the world. Time passed, and the tale of the beautiful sleeping prince, Brian Rose, became a quiet legend, whispered only by the oldest storytellers.
Many princes tried to cut through the thorns to rescue him, but the thorns closed around them like iron hands, trapping them until they perished, and soon, fewer and fewer dared to try.
A hundred years passed. One day, a young prince, eager to prove himself before becoming king, heard the story of the sleeping Brian Rose from an old traveler. His heart stirred with determination, and he declared, “I will wake the prince and free the kingdom.”
When he arrived at the thorn-covered palace, the hedge opened before him, blooming with roses and lilies, allowing him to pass unharmed. Inside, the castle lay frozen in time—pigeons asleep, the cook’s hand suspended in the air, flies unmoving on the walls.
He climbed the tower steps, breathless with anticipation, until he reached the chamber where Brian Rose lay sleeping. Just as he stepped forward, a monstrous creature, twisted by dark magic, leapt from the shadows, guarding the prince’s rest. The young prince fought bravely, defeating the beast with a final strike of his sword.
The room grew quiet again. The prince gazed at Brian Rose, struck by his beauty, the way his lashes rested against his cheeks and the calm that surrounded him. The young prince felt a deep pull in his heart. Overcome, he gently kissed Brian Rose.
At that moment, Brian Rose’s eyes fluttered open, warm and bright as he looked up into the prince’s face. A smile bloomed across his lips, and he whispered, “You came.”
Throughout the kingdom, life resumed. The King and Queen awoke, the horses neighed, the pigeons took flight, and the kitchen roared back to life. Laughter and astonished cries filled the air as the kingdom returned from its long sleep.
Soon after, Brian Rose and the brave prince were married in a celebration that lit the kingdom with joy. They ruled with kindness and wisdom, guiding their people with gentle hearts, and they lived contentedly, proving that even the deepest curses can be broken by courage, love, and the will to hope.
Moral of the Story:
Even the deepest curses can be broken through courage, kindness, and the power of love, reminding us that patience and hope can awaken even the longest sleep.
