[151] Surreal - "Your Once Upon a Time"
Papa stores everything he’s brought home for her in the attic. In the center of dusty seashells, dried cherry blossoms, dragon scales, and half-broken treasure chests she has cleared a circle where she likes to read the journal.
She lies on her stomach, the book laid open before her as she reads page by page of messy scrawls. It’s only when her eyes are heavy and the moon is out that she catches the sneaky letters shifting, like they’re trying to break free from their paper prison.
Just when she thinks it’s only her imagination, the attic bursts into life with the ghosts of people and places she’s never seen. She races white rabbits down rose littered paths. She sails through starry skies at the brink of midnight. She sweeps across grand ballrooms with chandeliers as glittering and bright as the sun. She cries bitter tears over If only I’d been there quicker, holds her breath at Please be safe, and embraces the hopeful ache in her chest at There’s still hope…
The words-come-alive dance around her like little fairies, tossing up clouds of the attic’s dust into the air like pixie dust, so full of wonder she wants to jump to her feet and dance.
When she closes the book, she kisses the cover and promises to come back tomorrow.
-----
One steely gray afternoon, she comes to Papa’s place again. Today, she is at the edge of tears because the words are crying, crying, crying maybe it was all for nothing. The darkness of the attic swirls around her in a surging wave of malice, looming closer to her tiny form until it is mere inches from her face. It is terrifyingly more real than anything she’s ever read and she trembles in its presence.
It offers adventures she can only dream of, alluring and sweet. It offers miracle moments that she’s been longing for since she first discovered what fairy tales were. Her eyes are glittering, it has her, it has her, it thinks, and its leering smile is gleeful and chilling.
But what the darkness doesn’t understand is that she has the courage of her father and the patience of her mother. So it is with surprising ease that she stares down the phantom shadow and shakes her head no, that’s okay.
Then it is gone and all that’s left in its place is dust and magic. The door opens behind her, and an older man who has fought almost as many years as he has lived steps into the room. She runs to him, breathless from lingering fear.
Reading again? He wonders and the little one nods, tucking the tattered journal under her arm. He takes her up into his arms like a princess and looks at her thoughtfully. Words teeter at the edge of his lips.
One day when it’s safe I’ll take you on a real adventure sweetie, he wants to say but doesn’t.
Somehow she already knows.
She lies on her stomach, the book laid open before her as she reads page by page of messy scrawls. It’s only when her eyes are heavy and the moon is out that she catches the sneaky letters shifting, like they’re trying to break free from their paper prison.
Just when she thinks it’s only her imagination, the attic bursts into life with the ghosts of people and places she’s never seen. She races white rabbits down rose littered paths. She sails through starry skies at the brink of midnight. She sweeps across grand ballrooms with chandeliers as glittering and bright as the sun. She cries bitter tears over If only I’d been there quicker, holds her breath at Please be safe, and embraces the hopeful ache in her chest at There’s still hope…
The words-come-alive dance around her like little fairies, tossing up clouds of the attic’s dust into the air like pixie dust, so full of wonder she wants to jump to her feet and dance.
When she closes the book, she kisses the cover and promises to come back tomorrow.
-----
One steely gray afternoon, she comes to Papa’s place again. Today, she is at the edge of tears because the words are crying, crying, crying maybe it was all for nothing. The darkness of the attic swirls around her in a surging wave of malice, looming closer to her tiny form until it is mere inches from her face. It is terrifyingly more real than anything she’s ever read and she trembles in its presence.
It offers adventures she can only dream of, alluring and sweet. It offers miracle moments that she’s been longing for since she first discovered what fairy tales were. Her eyes are glittering, it has her, it has her, it thinks, and its leering smile is gleeful and chilling.
But what the darkness doesn’t understand is that she has the courage of her father and the patience of her mother. So it is with surprising ease that she stares down the phantom shadow and shakes her head no, that’s okay.
Then it is gone and all that’s left in its place is dust and magic. The door opens behind her, and an older man who has fought almost as many years as he has lived steps into the room. She runs to him, breathless from lingering fear.
Reading again? He wonders and the little one nods, tucking the tattered journal under her arm. He takes her up into his arms like a princess and looks at her thoughtfully. Words teeter at the edge of his lips.
One day when it’s safe I’ll take you on a real adventure sweetie, he wants to say but doesn’t.
Somehow she already knows.