Writer’s block has finally left me and I’d like to share what I have for a story I thought of in a moment of inspiration. I have to admit…it felt super great to have my hands glide across the keyboard really easily! I hope you enjoy!
There are those days when life is a fairytale and then the other days when all you see bleak and lifeless reality. I live in reality. I live in a cruel, uncaring world, full of selfish people, me included. This is a story about how one horrible life, turned into a fairytale overnight. In a blink of an eye really.
You see, I’ve always disliked my life. It seems hefty and people overbearing always telling you to grow up. That your Prince Charming isn’t actually real. That talking trees are in your imagination. That dwarfs and elves and fairies only belong in story books.
They’ve lied to you; because they don’t know themselves. In fact, only I know the truth, and I hide them deep in these pages.
My name is Heather and I’m nineteen, I live with my Dad. I can’t afford the college I want to go to, that my Dad won’t pay for me to go to, so I’m trying to finish my book so I can publish it and make millions…or so that is my plan.
To put it in a nice way, my family thinks I’m a lunatic. They’re a normal family, holiday celebrating, T.V. watching, and into sports. I had always thought that those things weren’t really up my alley, I had stayed obsessed with the fairytale stories my parents had bought me when I was five. At seven, they told me to let go of them, but I just couldn’t. So while they watched the Superbowl, I would find the book they had hidden from me and read it. Stroking each beautiful page.
Eventually the one book couldn’t satisfy my hunger and I snuck out and bought some more. Under my bed was a secret library filled with stories of princesses, brave strangers, damsels, betrayal, poisoned apples, evil step-mothers, elves, fairies, sword-fights, a large fire-breathing dragon, and of course happy endings. And the collection grew and grew until I had to put them in my closet as well.
When life got tough, there was something to go to, where everything ended well. But this isn’t one of my fairytales, when my Mom found the books in my closet when I was thirteen, she told me I could keep them, but also another thing that has stuck with me all these years. She told me, “We didn’t want you to have them because we don’t want you to mix reality with fairytale, because happy endings are so scarce nowadays.”
I think she was preparing me for now. My parents separated when I was fourteen. My Mom got my baby brother and younger sister, while my Dad got me and my older brother. I spent a lot of time in that closet crying and wondering why my life wasn’t one of these stories.
I thought if I could twist my life enough I could make it one by force, so I stole my brother’s laptop out of his room one day, and started writing my life with lots of lies involved. And from the rubble, a true fairytale appeared.