Stairwell, going down from the 12th: 7:00 a.m.
It was at dawn that he awoke, the sunlight hitting his skin after a long night of fitful dreams. They were strange, lots of moving, lots of changing and when he finally awoke in the morning, he knew this wasn't quite right. His much smaller body didn't phase him, nor did they sudden hunger for insects. No, what bothered him was that he was in bed. Alone.
Where was the princess?
That was the reason he was in a bed and not by the pond anymore. That had to be it. She had promised. He would give her what she wanted and she would do as he asked: feed him from her table, sleep beside him in her bed. But when he awoke, there was no one else to be found, so the curse remained. He tried to think of her face, or even her name, but nothing came to mind. No matter. He would find her, whoever she was.
He leapt from the bed and kept making his way toward the door, slowly but surely, hopping as if he had been doing this his whole life. The front door was open and it gave him pause, thinking that it wasn't quite right. There was someone else who should have been here. They wouldn't have the door open. But just as quickly as the thought came, the thought passed. He couldn't dwell on it now. He had other plans. He slowly hopped and hopped and hopped off into the direction of the stairwell and then down, down, down, down the steps.