Sleeping Beauty tells the story of a princess cursed by a wicked fairy to sleep for a hundred years after pricking her finger on a spindle. Thanks to a kind fairy’s intervention, she does not die but falls into a deep slumber, only to be awakened a century later by true love’s kiss. It is a magical adventure proving that goodness and fate always triumph over evil.
Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there lived a King and a Queen. They had everything their hearts could desire except one thing—a child. They grieved so deeply that no words could describe their sorrow.
At long last, the day they had dreamed of arrived: the Queen gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. A magnificent christening ceremony was held at the palace. In those days, it was customary to invite seven fairies to be the princess’s godmothers, each granting her a wondrous gifts so she would possess every perfection imaginable.
When the ceremony ended, a grand banquet was prepared in honor of the fairies. Before each fairy, the King placed a plate of pure gold accompanied by a knife, fork, and spoon studded with diamonds and rubies.
Just as everyone was about to sit down, the great hall doors creaked open and in hobbled a very old fairy. No one had seen her for fifty years; most believed she was either dead or enchanted. That is why she had not been invited.
The King quickly ordered a place to be made for her, but there were only seven magnificent gold place settings, so she had to make do with ordinary tableware. The old fairy took this as a grave insult and muttered threats under her breath.
The youngest fairy, sitting beside her, overheard the muttering. Fearing the old woman would curse the child, she quietly slipped behind a curtain, planning to speak last and soften whatever evil spell might be cast.
The gift-giving began:
- The youngest fairy said, “The princess shall be the most beautiful girl the world has ever seen.”
- The second added, “She shall have the heart of an angel.”
- The third declared, “Every movement she makes shall be filled with grace.”
- The fourth bestowed, “She shall dance to perfection.”
- The fifth wished, “Her voice shall make nightingales jealous.”
- The sixth granted, “She shall play every musical instrument with mastery.”
Then came the old fairy’s turn. Shaking her head with bitter malice, she hissed words that froze the entire hall: “When the princess reaches her fifteenth year, she shall prick her finger on a spindle and die!”
A horrified silence fell, broken only by sobs. At that moment the young fairy stepped out from behind the curtain and cried, “Do not despair, Your Majesties! The princess shall not die. My power is not great enough to undo the curse completely, but I can soften it. Yes, she will prick her finger on a spindle, but instead of dying, she will fall into a deep sleep that lasts one hundred years. At the end of that century, a king’s son shall come and awaken her.”
Hoping to prevent the tragedy, the King immediately issued a decree: no one in the kingdom was allowed to use or possess a spindle. Anyone who disobeyed would be put to death.
The Hundred-Year Sleep
Fifteen, then sixteen years passed. One day, while the King and Queen were away at their summer palace, the young princess decided to explore the old towers of the castle. She climbed higher and higher until she reached a little garret room at the very top. There sat an old woman, completely unaware of the King’s decree, peacefully spinning flax with her spindle.
“What are you doing, good woman?” asked the princess curiously. “I am spinning thread, my child,” replied the old woman. “How interesting! May I try?” asked the princess.
No sooner had she touched the spindle than—whether from haste or the power of the curse—the sharp point pierced her finger, and she fell lifeless to the floor.
The old woman cried for help. Servants rushed in, splashed water on the princess’s face, rubbed her hands, and dabbed perfume on her temples, but nothing could rouse her.
When the King arrived and saw what had happened, he remembered the old fairy’s prophecy and understood that fate could not be escaped. He ordered his daughter to be carried to the finest apartment in the palace and laid upon a bed embroidered with gold and silver. Even in sleep she was breathtakingly beautiful—her cheeks rosy, her lips like coral, and the gentle rise and fall of her chest showed she was only sleeping.
At that very moment, the good fairy was far away in the kingdom of Matakin. A dwarf wearing seven-league boots brought her the terrible news in an instant. She sped to the palace in a chariot drawn by dragons and arrived within the hour.
Seeing the princess alone in the vast castle, the fairy thought, “When she awakens she will be frightened to find herself all alone.” So she touched every person and animal in the palace with her magic wand: ladies-in-waiting, maids, cooks, kitchen boys, guards, horses in the stables, and even the little lapdog Mopsi asleep beside the princess. Everyone except the King and Queen fell into the same deep sleep. Even the fire in the hearth and the roasting birds on the spit froze in place. When the princess awoke, everyone would be ready to serve her once more.
The King and Queen kissed their daughter one last time, left the palace, and forbade anyone from approaching it. There was no need for the command—within a quarter of an hour the entire castle was surrounded by a thick forest of trees, thorns, and briars so dense that neither man nor beast could pass. Only the tops of the highest towers could be seen from afar.
The Prince and the Awakening
Seasons turned into years, and exactly one hundred years passed.
A king from a different royal line now ruled the land. One day his son, while hunting in the forest, noticed ancient towers rising above the trees. “To whom do those towers belong?” he asked his companions.
Some said, “That is a haunted castle.” Others claimed, “Witches hold their gatherings there.” But the oldest man in the party stepped forward and said, “Fifty years ago my father told me that the most beautiful princess in the world has been sleeping there for a hundred years. She will remain asleep until a king’s son comes to awaken her.”
The Prince felt his heart catch fire. Convinced he was the one destined to break the spell, he urged his horse toward the impenetrable forest. To everyone’s amazement, the trees, briars, and thorns parted before him like servants bowing to their master. He rode straight to the castle, and the path closed behind him so no one could follow.
Inside the courtyard he found an eerie sight: people lying motionless as if dead. Yet the rosy cheeks of the guards and the peaceful faces of the servants told him they were merely sleeping.
He climbed marble staircases, crossed golden halls, and finally entered a chamber with curtains drawn back from the bed. There lay the princess, no more than fifteen or sixteen years old, radiant with unearthly beauty. Trembling, the Prince knelt beside her.
At that instant the spell was broken. The princess opened her eyes, looked at him with love, and whispered softly, “Is it you, my Prince? You have kept me waiting a very long time.”
Overjoyed and speechless, the Prince fell even more deeply in love, for her voice was more enchanting than any music.
At the same moment the entire castle awoke. Servants returned to their duties, and the hungry chief steward announced, “Dinner is served, Your Highness!”
The Prince offered his arm to the princess. Her gown was in the fashion of a hundred years earlier, yet it only made her more beautiful. They dined in the mirrored hall while violinists played melodies unchanged by time. That same evening, in the palace chapel, they were married.
And from that day on—as all good stories should—they lived happily ever after.
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