Sorry if this is not a complete short story and I sincerely apologize that I write like a high schooler... or even worse. Just a fore-warning. Also, these will forever be short posts.
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Once upon a time, in a far-away place, there lived a girl that wished she could just live in a world where magic and mystics would run-about. The girl dreamed of shifters, elves, vampires, wizards and much of everything that did not exist in the human parallel plane. She was young and foolish; her parents would condone. Though parents were mentioned, her father was silent, never really at home but soon never came home at all. The father's new home was a sight to see, consisting of a slab of granite stone with words and a handsome face etched on it. The young girl’s mother was soon the only one who would compare the girl to relative’s and friend’s daughters. Questioning why the daughter could not create herself into woman with aspiration. Surely, it could not be the mother’s fault for the mother only has the girl’s best interest in mind. Mother knows best. Mother has lived longer. Mother knows that fairy-tales and magic do not exist. Mother knows that the girl more than the girl knows about herself. A liar, a cheat, a trust-breaking lazy daughter. Promises upon promises made and forever broken. Never praised. Never reassured. Disappointment is forever hanging around hope. Titles are given to this girl by the mother. The girl has a name; yet, she calls herself, Dead.
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