There Once Was A Girl

There was a small farm in the countryside.
There was a pretty green cottage on the small farm.
Inside the cottage was a sweet yellow bedroom.
Inside the sweet yellow bedroom was a white rocking chair by the window.
On the white rocking chair by the window sat a little 7 year old girl.
On the little 7 year old girl's lap was a blue book.
The blue book was closed.
The little girl's eyes were closed.

It was dark outside the windows of the pretty green cottage.
It was raining heavily.
The little 7 year old girl was outside.
The little 7 year old girl was scared and cold and wanted to go back inside.
She ran to the door and tried to pull it open.
She yelled for her mother and father to come get her when the door would not open.

It was a long wait.

She ran to the windows to see if she could get her mother or father to see her.
She ran all around the pretty green cottage.

It was empty.

Shivering, she walked back to the front door.
Trembling, she sank to her knees in front of the door.
Crying, she prayed for her mother and father to come get her.
Listening to the sound of the rain and the emptiness around her.

She felt a soothing touch on her shoulder and the lightest of kisses on her cheek.
Hush, little one, her mother smiled at her.
We're here, little one, her father reassured her.
It was only a bad dream.
The little girl smiled and drifted back to sleep, safe in their love.


It was dark outside the windows of the pretty green cottage.
It was raining heavily.
The 28 year old woman was outside.
The 28 year old woman was scared and cold and wanted to go back inside.
She ran to the door and tried to pull it open.
She yelled for someone to get her when the door would not open.

It was a long wait.

She ran to the windows to see if she could get anyone to see her.
She ran all around the pretty green cottage.

He was inside.

She screamed and begged and pleaded and cried and threatened, anything so he would let her in.

He didn't see her. He didn't hear her.

Shivering, she walked back to the front door.
Trembling, she sank to her knees in front of the door.
Crying, she prayed for the strength to walk away.
Listening to the sound of the rain and the emptiness around her.

No soothing touch on her shoulder and the lightest of kisses on her cheek.
This was not a bad dream.
The little girl she was cried along with the 28 year old woman she had become.

Mirror, Mirror On The Wall... Who Is The Most Foolish Of Them All?

You watch me as I sit in front of the mirror. Both of us are silent. I look into my make-up bag and randomly pull out a tube of lipstick. It is a bright coral that I loathe for three reasons: it is garish, you bought it for me and it makes me look pale.
I throw it against the mirror, hoping to break it. You sigh but remain silent as you watch me unravel. The lipstick slams into the mirror, then slides back down in front of me. It is mocking me. I want to cry but you are watching me.
So I pick it up and put it on. Still, you say nothing. I want to speak, but the coral lips remain silent. I stare at those lips that are mine but no longer belong to me. I desperately want to say something, anything but they remain painted shut.
You watch my face as I sit there hating my lips. You tell me I look pretty and ask me if I am ready to leave. I shake my head no. You get up and walk over to me. You bend down to kiss the top of my head, and tell me you will see me later. This time I watch you as you walk away from me.
This is the final time I will watch you walk away from me. I wipe off the coral stain and pack up my things. This time I will walk away from you.
No more coral for me. I'm switching to dusty rose.

Of Masks and Magic

I can hear the sounds of innocence and bliss in the air. Footsteps dashing from door to door, gleeful grins from angels and devils united on this night. All seeking the sweet innocent thrill brought on by, well, sweets.
Yes, a treat indeed. A treat for the little ghosts and ghouls and for the zombies.
On this night, they are in masks and costumes. On this night, I remove my mask and costume. No need to pretend that all is right in the world because for this one moment, those smiles are enough.
I envy them.
Even if I am an angel or a fairy tonight, the magic disappears as soon as the sun appears. They will remain little angels even when the costumes are taken off.
Meanwhile... I walk around feeling like, well, a zombie.
May I please be a fairytale princess just a little while longer?

Promise

Round and round the little circle spins...
I try to follow the quick chase.
One lap, then two, then fifty.
Still nothing.
Just like a ferris wheel, forever moving. But never going anywhere.
Doomed to repeat the motions... up, down, up, down.
Forever grounded to one spot.
I never liked the ferris wheel. It promises me the sky.
But I always end up on the ground.
Circles are eternal. The bond that never breaks.
The promise of forever.
The ring that binds two souls. The cuffs that bind a prisoner.
Still I watch the circle spinning. Still waiting for it to deliver its promise.
Loading, it tells me. So I sit tight.
Finally it stops.
Site not found, it screams at me. So I sigh.
Story of my life. Seems like life is forever loading.
Destination: site not found.

Thanks For Making Me Feel Bad

Dear Sunshine Of Mine,

You are amazing. I could not ask for a sweeter, kinder, more generous, loving friend than you. In comparison I look like a grumpy, miserable old hag. Bleurgh.

But you are so amazing and I love you lots and lots. Here's to many, many more years of friendship... I know you'll continue to be the sweet, kind, generous, loving person that you are through the good times and the bad times. And I will continue to be the grumpy, miserable old hag in comparison. But I don't mind because I love you to bits.

This is dedicated to all my friends who have been by my side through the good times, and especially through the bad times. Cheers!

What Dreams May Come

My name is Celeste. I live in a beautiful house. I cannot tell you which room is my favourite one as each room is exquisitely decorated. It took years to complete the house. Each piece of furniture was carefully chosen, every flower arranged perfectly.
Yes, it is a very beautiful house. I am very lucky.
I like the garden. There is a stone fountain and a pond and lots and lots of interesting sculptures. I enjoy sitting by the pond and sketching the sculptures. I would have liked to have some fish to sketch too but the only thing the pond holds is clear water. It is still a pretty pond, though.
Yes, it is a very pretty garden.
When it is cold outside, I sometimes play in the attic. There are so many boxes in the attic and each box holds a treasure. Sometimes I find old volumes of poetry, sometimes I find old toys. Once I even found a really old photo album. The photographs in it were so faded I could not recognize a single face. It is still fun to look, though.
Yes, it is fun to play in the big attic.
At nights I sit by my window seat, looking for stars. I like to read here too. It is one of my favourite things to do. I love to read about faraway places and fairy tales. I daydream a lot here too. I think of all those faraway places my books have told me about and I wish that I may someday see those places with my own eyes.
Yes, I do so love to daydream.
It is night now. It is time for me to lay down and close my eyes. When morning comes, once again I will be out in the garden, staring out at the world with unblinking eyes. All the while wishing for things that can never be.
What else can I do, trapped in this dollhouse?

Stop And Go

I'll start giving again, once you stop taking from me.

I'll start sleeping again, once you stop keeping me up at night.

I'll start smiling again, once you stop making me miserable.

I'll start talking again, once you stop pretending to care.

I can stop giving, stop sleeping, stop smiling, stop talking.

But what is really slowly seeping the life out of me...

is that I can't seem to stop loving you.

Farewell, Monkey

I told the monkey on my back, "My, you're getting heavy."

He bared his teeth at me and threw a banana in my face.

I tried to push him away. He really was weighing me down. Plus, I don't appreciate having fruit crushed on my face.

His expression changed from angry to deeply saddened with the blink of an eye.

I attempted to console him. "I know, monkey. I've carried you for so long and you are a part of me, but we must part."

He refused to look at me.

"When we met, I was still standing upright. Now the burden of keeping you for so long has caused me to stoop and hunch over. If this goes on, I'll be forced to crawl on my knees. Please understand."

He looked at me, eyes full of accusation and contempt.

I sighed. "You forced me to do this."

Uncertainty danced across his face.

I lit a match and lit him on fire. He was going down, one way or another.

He clung on tightly as the flames consumed him, so the flames would consume me too.

I merely smiled. The heat was melting years of icy numbness sealing my heart. When his screams finally burned away, I jumped into the lake.

Farewell, monkey.

I fell freely towards the bottom, eyes shut. When I felt the tug of life, once again calling to me, I resurfaced.

Farewell, guilt.

Hello, future.

Wanted: Map Or Directions. Thank you.

Ah, my heart. I spent most of last night and a good portion of today trying to figure out the this feeling. I'm not even sure how to describe it. It is sort of like being disconnected from... from what exactly? This place? The people?

Am I upset? Or sad? Or confused? Guilty? Perhaps all of that and more? Even as I write, I bite my lip and try to sort through the jumble. Trying to put everything in its place, where it belongs.

I think that may be partly it.

Place... belong...

The words are triggering something...

Tugging at some faint threads of... of what?

Loneliness? Homesickness?

Everything feels slightly off. Feels like I stepped onto the escalator and it's moving forward, but my feet aren't quite on the ground. And I'm not even trying to get them onto solid ground.

Ah, my heart. Where are you leading me this time?

Undone

   You lie on the grass next to me as we look up at the stars. I laugh as I feel the grass tickling my bare arms and feet. You sigh, a smile of deep contentment on your lips as you close your eyes.
   It is quite a cold night, but we keep each other warm. We always keep each other warm.
   I ask you where your thoughts are. You look at me and tell me you are thinking of the future. I make a face. You are always thinking of the future.
   You ask me what I am thinking of. I look at the full moon and tell you I am dreaming of what will come. You frown. You tell me that I always dream too much.
I just laugh and we both close our eyes and let our thoughts drift in the cool breeze.
   I was heartbroken when you had to move away. You held my hand and reminded me that you were only a thought away.
   Years later and here we are.
   You sit on the grass next to me as we look up at the night sky. It is very cold and the stars have decided to go some place else, somewhere warm. I shiver as I feel icy fingers touching my bare arms and feet. You sigh, then bite your lips in annoyance.
   You tell me I should have dressed warmer. Or that I should at least bring a shawl. You are dressed sensibly and the cold wind does not bother you.
   I nod and ask what is on your mind. You look at me and tell me you are thinking of the future. I smile for some things even time cannot touch. You are still thinking of the future.
   You ask me what my thoughts are. I gaze up at the dim crescent moon. I tell you that I still dream. You frown and almost look angry. You tell me that I should stop dreaming.
   I can only smile. You tell me you have to leave because you have a future to work for. I shiver again, but it has nothing to do with the cold. You stand up and walk away. I close my eyes and let my memories of you be carried off by the wind.
   Yes, I was heartbroken when you moved away.

Stranger

I'm sorry I didn't fight harder for you. I loved you. I still love you, more so now than ever before. I know more often than not it seems like I have forgotten about you or forsaken you for others, but trust me, you are always on my mind.
You were, and always will be, my first love. My one true love. You were always with me, right from the beginning. You stayed with me, all through the sleepless nights and all through the storms. Truth be told, sometimes I think you saved me.
And even though I turned my back on you, you stayed loyal. You stayed strong so I would stay strong. But lately I feel you slipping away from me. Maybe you finally realised that I'm not worthy of you.
After all, how long are you supposed to stand this abuse? I seek you out and then I reject you. I cry for you and then I leave you behind. I ask you for help and then I condemn you.
I'm surprised you even stayed this long.
I don't know if I should fight for you or let you go. Maybe if I let you go, you'll find someone who will treat you better. But if I let you go, will that mean letting my love go? Am I selfish? Am I a coward? No doubt about that. I am selfish and I am a coward.
I hide behind shadows and blame others. Excuse after excuse. It was never my fault. The blame always fell on the people around me.
I even blamed you sometimes. I mistreated you, misused you, twisted you this way and that way, and all the while claiming that I loved you.
You first came to me when I was hurting and offered me hope and companionship. I still need you. I'm still hurting. I'm still scared. I am so sorry for the way that I have behaved. I am so sorry for the way that I treated you. Please forgive me.
I am a coward.
All those times you wanted me to speak up for myself and I forced you away, choking on the bitter taste of swallowed words. All those times you told me to let you free so I could let myself be free, and I chained you up inside. All those times you urged me that my thoughts had value so I could recognise that you had value, and I erased you like you were worthless. I buried you along with my voice and I buried myself, and now I am constantly suffocating.
Somewhere along the line, I lost myself. Buried under a mountain of excuses, of hopelessness, of worthlessness.
Will you help dig me out? I'm alone in the dark like I was the first time you came to me. Help me find the light again?
Help me find me again.
So I can finally find you again.
My lost love. My lost words.

The Modernisation Of Wendy + Peter P. - Part 9

When night spreads her dark cloak upon the horizon, I sit by my window, holding my breath. I hope he comes. After last night, he might have given up on me. The ticking of the clock is maddening. As the hands spin the hours, I feel my hope fading.
I close my eyes and send out a wish, so that he might hear me. I open my eyes and there he is. That wonderful smile of his restores my spirits.
He enters after I open the window for him.
"I'm sorry."
"Wendy, you did nothing wrong."
"I've been thinking of you all day long."
He takes my hand in his.
"Come."
Still holding my hand, he leads me outside. I smile, happy to follow him.
This time he takes me to an island. It seems to be deserted as I see no signs of life. We sit on the sand. His hand has not left mine since the moment he held it.
We watch the waves roll up. I draw little circles in the sand with my bare toe. He looks down and grins ruefully.
"Perhaps I should warn you to bring your shoes next time."
"I think that would be good. At least we're not standing on rocks."
"Sorry again. I should have thought of it. But I was excited to see you."
"Me too."
We sit there, talking, until dawn. When the first splashes of pink appear on the dark blue sky, he turns to me.
"I should take you home."
I nod reluctantly.
We stand, say our goodbyes, and he sends me home.

The Modernisation Of Wendy + Peter P. - Part 8

My mother and I are out running errands all day long. By the time I reach my home, I am so tired I can barely walk up the stairs. I clean up and collapse onto my bed. The second my head hits my pillow, my eyes close and I fall blissfully into a deep slumber.
I dream of him again that night.
He is trying to convince me he is real, and I just smile and nod. But I know the truth. I simply play along. It is only a dream after all. There is no harm playing along and falling into the fantasy in a dream.
As soon as daybreak arrives, I awaken. Instead of feeling refreshed as I should after such a restful sleep, I feel disoriented and confused. And disturbed.
Something is niggling at me from the deep corner of my mind. I try to shake it off as I get up and start to clear my bed.
I lift up my pillow. There is nothing there.
The sun reaches my bed and decides to rest there.
It all comes rushing back at me.
Peter, holding my hand and pleading with me. Me, nodding along with every word.
Peter, telling me that he is here for me, trying to convince me that I have been calling for him.
Me, finally tiring of these illusions and shutting him out.
Peter, holding the star in his hands as he leaves my room, disappointed.
Peter, leaving a trail of silver dust from my bed to the window.
Peter, the one I have been calling for in my dreams.

The Modernisation Of Wendy + Peter P. - Part 7

I am awakened by the sun's fierce glare. I open my eyes drowsily and look around, expecting to see the sun nearby.
I am on my wooden bed, on my comfortable mattress.
I am back in my room.
Disappointment surges through me and I flop back on my pillow.
Had it all been a dream?
It must be. I nearly laugh out loud if not for the deep disappointment. How silly I was to think that it was all real.
I look around my pillow, thinking that the star must have been part of the dream as well.
Sure enough, there was no star.
There is a knock on my door, then my mother enters.
"Wendy, wake up. We have a lot of work to do today."
I nod and she leaves. I close my eyes for a moment and recall the memory of holding the star in my hands.
Ridiculous, really.
Well, it was time to go back to reality.
I climb out of bed and head for the bathroom for a shower.
My mother calls for me to hurry because we are running late. I have a quick shower and dress hurriedly, rushing out the door without making my bed.
Had I looked back, I would have seen a corner of a star peeping from under the pillow.

The Modernisation Of Wendy + Peter P. - Part 6

I take a tentative step forward. Peter is watching me and smiling encouragingly. I kneel and touch the cloud with my hand. It feels like the softest silk slipping through my fingers. It feels real enough.

My earlier denial is quickly dissipating. This is real. I stand up and begin walking, then skipping across the cloud. I go as close to the edge as I dared to and look down. A city, alive with lights, is sleeping below me.

No, not a city. A whole country. How high up were we?

Peter comes up behind me. He gently places a hand on my back and nudges me forward a little. "You can sit there on the edge. You won't fall."

"Uhm, no. I'm fine."
He laughs. To prove his point, he steps in front of me and walks to the outer edges of the cloud. He sits and carelessly dangles his legs in the empty air.
I am still unconvinced. I am perfectly happy where I am. I sigh and lay down happily, enjoying the silky caress of the cloud on my back. I stare up at the stars for some time, before feeling my eyes grow heavy.
I try to call out to Peter to take me home but my lips refuse to cooperate. My eyes are barely open and I decide to just give in to the floating sensation.

The Modernisation Of Wendy + Peter P. - Part 5

"Will you come play with me tonight?"

I hesitate. The star was a very thoughtful and special gift but he is still a stranger.

Yet, there is something so familiar about him. As if he is a forgotten dream from the past.

He smiles and takes my hand.

"Shall we?"

I nod. I feel sure that I can trust him. He leads me to the window ledge, holding my hand firmly in his.

"Close your eyes," he whispers to me. "And think of the one place you would love to be in right now."

I close my eyes and one image pops into my mind immediately. I frown because it is impossible. I try to think of someplace else, but before I can he is calling to me.

"Wendy, open your eyes."

I do as he says. As soon as my brain registers what I see around me, my knees go weak and I almost collapse.

Almost. I did not fall because he catches me quickly, holding me tightly.

"Peter." The name escapes from my lips. I am surprised. I repeat the name again, looking at him.

He smiles and looks pleased. "You remember."

I shake my head weakly. I still feel shaken and unsteady.

"Not real. A dream," I mumble.

"It is real."

"No. A dream. So long ago." I look around me, half in wonder and half in denial.

He laughs. "This is real."

I look down at my feet. There is no way this is real. It is just not possible.

My bare toes are touching cotton candy.

He lets go of me and sits down on the cotton candy.

This cannot be real. I must have fallen asleep while waiting for him.

He starts playing with the fluffy candy while I have this mental debate with myself.

How else can you explain how I'm standing on a cloud?

The Modernisation Of Wendy + Peter P. - Part 4

I awake the next morning with a smile. With the arrival of the sun, the star's brightness has faded but there is still a faint glow.

I find myself skipping about the house, which earned my mother's disapproving glance.

"A young lady does not prance about the house like a horse," she scolds me.

I bow my head in a show of regret at her reprimand, but I really bow my head to hide the huge smile on my lips.

The day seems to go on forever as I wait for nightfall.

Finally, darkness creeps into the house and it is time for bed.

I refrain from running up the stairs and force myself to take one small step after the other.

When I reach my room, I rush towards the window and look outside. The moon has come out, and the stars dancing, but there is no sign of him.

I am disappointed. I am surprised that I am disappointed. I sit on my bed and look at the star, which is shining brilliantly once again. I hold it and smile.

I am interrupted by a tapping. This time it is a welcome sound. I look up and, sure enough, there he is.

I walk over to the window to let him in.

"Who are you?"

"You know who I am. You have been calling for me."

I am thoroughly puzzled. He does not look familiar at all. And how could I call on a magical boy when I did not even know magic existed before last night?

The Modernisation Of Wendy + Peter P. - Part 3

Despite my mother's voice screaming warnings in my head, I walk over to the window. There is something so innocent, yet wicked, about his face that fascinates me. I lift the window and he enters my room.

"Hey!" I snap. The nerve of him! I was only going to have a look at what he held in his hand, not have him flitting about my room.

He stops right in front of me and opens his cupped hand. The angry words disappear as I look down.

I gasp as I see it. There in his hand is the sweetest, most perfect star. It was brighter than any diamond I had ever seen.

"Here," he moves closer to me. "This is for you. To show you that magic is real."

I am frozen. I cannot move. I cannot speak. I am absolutely captivated by the star.

He gently takes my hand and lifts my fingers so they fold around the star.

After an eternity, I finally find my voice. "Thank you."

He nods.

"But, why are you giving me this?"

"Because I want to see you smile."

He gazes at my face for a moment and smiles. Without another word, he leaves my room and leaves me alone.

I walk back to my bed and place the star next to me. I wonder if he will come back tomorrow night.

The Modernisation Of Wendy + Peter P. - Part 2

I wake early the next morning, feeling refreshed. That immediately put me in a cheerful mood and I begin to go about my day.

However, by lunchtime the cheerful mood was slowly fading. The boy from the night before is persistently in my thoughts, just as he was persistently tapping on my window last night.

I try to push him aside. Unfortunately, this time, Miss Mclachlan was unable to help me block him out.

By bedtime, I am in a foul mood. I have a nice, stable life and am perfectly content with things as they are and this, this boy dares to invade my life? Who does he think he is anyway?

As if he knows that I am thinking about him, the familiar tapping invades my private rant. I turn towards the window. Sure enough, there he is, grinning impishly and looking a right mess.

"Ah, but what an adorable mess," a voice whispers unexpectedly.

The voice in my head.

I frown and watch him as he waves at me. I will not go to him. I am a sensible girl and I do not allow strange boys into my room.

He sees my sour expression and stops tapping and waving. He looks at me for a moment before flying away.

Flying? Hold on, did he really fly? But that's impossible.

"Magic." His reply to my question last night pops into my mind.

I shake my head and tell myself not to be silly. Magic only exists in books and in dreams. Not in real life. I walk back to my bed and climb in.

Just as I am about to turn off the light, the tapping begins again. I look up in surprise. I thought my sour disposition was enough to turn him away.

Apparently not.

He is gesturing excitedly for me to come to him. There is something cupped in the palm of his hand.

I think he wants to show me what it is.

I hesitate.

Do I ignore him again or do I walk over to him?

The Modernisation Of Wendy + Peter P. - Part 1

I'm looking out at the boy standing on the window ledge. He's tapping the glass insistently and is grinning cheekily at me. I'm a sensible girl. I'm not going to let some strange boy walk into my life like that.
But he keeps tapping away, eyes imploring me to open the window. I try to ignore him and hide beneath the covers. Tap, tap, tap. Oh, go away.
But the sound is really getting on my nerves. I throw back the covers and stomp over to the window, glaring at the boy. He stops tapping and starts waving, smiling cheerfully all the while. I lift up the window a little and snap at him, "What do you want?"
"Come play with me," he replies.
I'm ready to explode. "Are you insane? It's way past midnight! And I don't even know you!"
"I can bring magic into your world," he promises.
"How did you even get on the ledge?"
"Magic."
I slam the window shut and close the curtains. He immediately begins knocking on the glass again. I grab my iPod off the desk, crawl back under the covers, slip on the earphones and fall asleep to Sarah Mclachlan.