Fairytales and Wishing Wells: A Girl's Storybook

She wasn't the most normal girl. She had bright blood red hair and she stood tall.

She had long arms and maybe legs. I can't remember.

Her skin was smooth like butter...

When I first saw her, she stood by a man, he was her Prince and she was the Princess. I was speechless. The only thing that I could say was, "You're very pretty." Silly me.


I can't remember if the Princess said anything more than that. Maybe she smiled at me? It wasn't the most conventional of greetings but I had a migraine, but her face came through the fog which was my hello and her goodbye.

The Princess sat behind a jesters study, looking down into her lap. I said hello again and said she was pretty. She asked me about life and then she cried. I think I was her maid. I consoled her as best as one could a Princess who carried the troubles of love on her shoulders.

...It will be okay.

....Why change?

.....Embrace yourself.

.....You betta work! (RuPaul said that. Oh how I miss stolen cable tv!)

Come back tomorrow, and bring your papers so that the Princess can induct you into her court! She might have said. I don't know how to make those papers officiating my presence in her court, but I can please and draw with the best of them. The Princess never looked up from her tears, she kept her face hidden so that a lesser, such as I am, not see her at her worst.

The Princess, showed her heart to me but left her soul hidden.

I was glad that I was able to capture an image of her face, at long last, and I imagined her smiling. Happy. Relaxed.

"Fan me! Feed me grapes!" Does royalty really say those things?



Lowly folk usually stick together. I rather love the nature. I found a man in a cave, and vowed to protect him. A gypsy as a knight in shining armor! Tarnished, to be honest. I steal.

Instead of sleeping in a mine that I found, nearby the water, I take up in the cave to guard the entrance while he sleeps, and I leave before I wake. My head hurts.



One might think me mad I am, for sleeping in caves. But if you listen close, you can hear the howling and the ruffling of nature, the rushing waters. The whisper that constantly echoes in my ear.

This city is alive. And thus, the story starts here journey begins here.