A beautiful but poor girl catches the prince's eye. The prince takes her back to his castle and they get married and live happily ever after.
Every little girl's fairytale dream.
But what if the dream becomes reality? It's never quite the same, is...
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My father used to tell me a bedtime story every night. He told me of the brave knights, the explorers, the kings and the pirates. He told me of the sirens, the mermaids, the alligators, and the fish. He told me everything from the tales of the 3 musketeers to the story of Frankenstein. Every night a different story, every night a different adventure.
He would sit by my small mattress on the hard cold ground and stroke my back as he animatedly recounted every detail of these magical stories. We weren't wealthy by any means, but we had a roof over our heads and a place to rest at night and that is all we really needed.
My father was a big strong man, and despite the stress and fatigue I could see pressing down on him every day, trying to crush his spirit, he always stood tall. He was always kind and patient, and he always kept a special smile ready just for me.
When he couldn't afford enough food for both of us he would skip a meal without hesitation, not a touch of malice in his eyes as he watched my small, fragile body inhale all of our rations. On the coldest of nights, he'd wrap me in his big strong arms, keeping me safe from the elements.
Whenever things got tough, whenever the nights were too cold and our delicate shelter wavered under the intense winds of a storms, he would hold me , and transport me to an entirely different world with just his voice and a few crafted words.
When he told me the stories of the underdogs winning and the poor orphan girl meeting the prince I didn't feel so helpless.
He had this uncanny ability to fill me with strength and hope. When he spoke I thought maybe everything wouldn't be so bad.
If Harry Potter could defeat Voldemort and Cinderella could find her prince then maybe I could too. Maybe I could find my very own knight in shinning armor and we could live happily ever after together.
Of course I now know that I was just being a naive little girl. The reality is that gold isn't all that shiny, the stars are merely burning balls of gas, and there isn't always a light at the end of a tunnel.
Sometimes all there is is endless darkness that you endure until you reach the end.
One night, the day after my 12th birthday, I was sitting by the fireplace, hoping it would lend me some light so I could finish up the rest of my school work, when my father burst through the door.
The wind slammed it open with a bang, rattling the walls. The strong wind carried into the house, and before I could catch it, blew my homework right into the blazing fire I was perched next to, immediately burning away. All of my hard work destroyed.
"Dad, What the fuck!" I screamed in annoyance, watching the rest of the thin paper burn away, flames growing around it.
"Watch your language, Lorelai." He reprimanded, rubbing his hands together as he removed his thin gloves that were riddled with holes. His voice was firm but laced with unmistakeable fatigue that lessened its effect.
