The Skeleton Manor

I used to think that I was secretly a princess. That I had been snatched away by some cruel force, dropped into the existence of a normal 21st century girl. Every day on my way to school I would pass the abandoned manor on the corner. I imagined that I would have lived there, had fate not come to steal me away. I would have grown up surrounded by the brilliant luxury of marble corridors and winding staircases and velvet couches, instead of the cold, grim world in which I currently reside. 

I would be awakened at noon by the strands of sunlight filtering through my lacy curtains, warming my nose and cheeks. A cart would stand by my bedside, overflowing with steaming blueberry muffins and fresh squeezed orange juice and chocolate croissants. I would slide into my silk slippers, perfectly fitted to my feet, and sink my teeth into a muffin, relishing the burst of sugary sweetness it sent across my tongue.

Next I would examine my closet, and try on any number of gorgeous gowns until I decided on a flowing lavender one made of satin and sparkles. I would float gracefully out the door and down the hallway, admiring the ancient paintings adorning the walls. 

I would spend the day strolling through the gardens, braiding flowers into my hair and frolicking with the butterflies and hummingbirds. After an afternoon picnic in a sunny meadow with my friends, I would return to my room to change into a magnificent ball gown of pink and gold while my maids meticulously braided my hair in preparation for the evening celebrations.

There would be a grand ball, and I would dance and dance until my feet were numb, twirling and leaping under the glorious chandeliers illuminating the great hall. I would feast on a rainbow of delicacies from across the world, and chatter away until I collapsed onto my bed at last, exhausted and happy beyond imagination. My eyes drifted shut, and I fell down, down, down . . .

To reality. Where I trudge past the mansion on the corner. It is shrouded in fog, but if I peer closely enough I can glimpse the collapsed pillars, the rusted banisters, the gloomy skeleton of a building full of such hopeless, magical potential. I wonder why I ever thought it could have been beautiful. I had been such a silly young child, to believe in such whimsical fantasies as princesses and palaces. Now the manor is just a reminder of the dreams I once had, a symbol of a carefree childhood lost forever.