there once was a girl who lived a dream. her name was marie.
marie had everything she wanted. she only had to tip her index finger on the plaquette that hung from her golden bracelet and the sound of a million crystal bells would make her servants appear. they'd bring her floating robes of muslin and velvet and silk which shimmered in all colours of the rainbow, decorated with ornaments of silver and gold. or beatiful sapphires and rubys and jewelry of all sorts, bordered in precious rare earth metals. or even shoes of the finest leather, cream coloured or dark like hot chocolate, suede boots for hunting and artful lace-up shoes for balls, as music enchanted her to be a light-hearted dancer.
but she wasn't happy. she never had learned to appreciate all her possessions, she never had gotten to know the poverty and suffering of the world outside the castle walls, she never even lost a thought about the feelings of her servants. to her, they were pretty dressed, faceless creatures, always polite and never speaking unless she told them to. all the masses of servants, the masses of the nation, why should she think about them when she sunk into a basin of white marble, filled with rose-water, or when she sat down to get her long golden hair brushed and perfumed carefully before the pearls were plaited in? why should she ever try to help them out of their misery? she had all she wanted. and she saw no use in caring about the others.
and then there came the day, when the people wanted revenge. they took away everything she had and the burnt it in a fire, so hot the flames turned green. they made her sing a song, her last one, and her clear voice was shaking and getting fainter and fainter until it faded into silence. that was when she was killed.
so be grateful for what you have.
