Reality Isn't a Fairytale

August 10, 2010
By chipsandguacamollie SILVER, Parker, Colorado
chipsandguacamollie SILVER, Parker, Colorado
8 articles 4 photos 19 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Knowledge is a polite word for dead but not buried imagination." - E. E. Cummings


A beautiful mansion, Victorian, pink-tinged white with scalloped trim. Brightly colored curtains flutter in the windows and the swing on the wraparound porch creaks in the light breeze.

A suburban house, grey stucco with a crumbling roof. The windows are all empty, and the front door that she just ran out of gapes open. The building is dull, lower middle-class, and thoroughly unwelcoming.

Wearing a ruffled white sundress, a woman leans on the railing, looking at the sunny sky. She runs a hand through her long hair before holding the hand out in front of her and admiring the diamond on her ring finger.

In dirty sweats, a woman glances up at the stormy clouds boiling overhead. Her fingers rake at the tangled mess of her hair, but after a moment, she takes her hands away. She yanks off the gold band on her left ring finger, chucking it out of her sight.

Handsome as a prince, a young man comes up behind the woman, wrapping his arms around her waist. She laughs and tilts her head up to see him. He kisses her softly, a smile on his lips.

The woman stands alone, clutching her arms around her chest to hold herself together. She cries silently, tears staining her cheeks with salt and stinging her bloodshot eyes. She bites her cracked lip, keeping the moans of despair from escaping.

Their life is perfection. A princess and her prince in their storybook castle. A future of adoring children, undying love, and never-ending happiness.

The house slowly falls to pieces as she weeps, her child gone with the man who set the house on fire. When the fire trucks and ambulances show up, she turns away, leaving her childhood dreams of a fairy-tale life buried in the ashes of what used to be her home.


The author's comments:
"You sit there in your heartache, waiting on some beautiful boy to save you from your old ways. You play forgiveness, watch him now, here he comes. He doesn't look a thing like Jesus, but he talks like a gentleman, like you imagined when you were young." - When You Were Young, The Killers

Similar Articles

JOIN THE DISCUSSION

This article has 1 comment.


AsIAm PLATINUM said...
on Aug. 28 2010 at 4:06 pm
AsIAm PLATINUM, Somewhere, North Carolina
48 articles 3 photos 608 comments

Favorite Quote:
"According to some, heroic deaths are admirable things. (Generally those who don't have to do it. Politicians and writers spring to mind.) I've never been convinced by this argument, mainly because, no matter how cool, stylish, composed, unflappable, manly, or defiant you are, at the end of the day you're also dead. Which is a little too permanent for my liking." — Jonathan Stroud (Ptolemy's Gate)

The good:  The imagery was amazing, just enough was written in each description, and the message was clear.  Great work!

The bad:  The very first sentence isn't technically grammatically correct, but it was still really good.  If you wanted to, you could add a verb, but if I were you I would say the heck with it - because it truly is great the way it is. :)

The Random: I didn't really follow it at first, but then I read it again and it was like an epiphany.  It was amazing!  Great writing! ~AsIAm

 



SciArc

MacMillan Books

Aspiring Writer? Take Our Online Course!