Welcome back to PEP! First, before we get into this week’s short story, here is the link for this week’s Sunday Fabricated Stories, Camp Mess. I don’t believe I’ve posted this here before so definitely go and check it out!
I’m also going to have another post later this week featuring a Quora question that I have an answer to. For those that don’t know, Quora is a site you can post questions to and various people will answer. I happen to have an answer to this one that I will post here on my blog. I’ll also post a link on Wednesday to this week’s Wednesday Weird Tale of the Unknown. It’ll also be one I haven’t posted here so it’ll be a new one for my long-time friends. If you enjoy what you’re finding here, always feel free to share this blog post and the Medium stories and, of course, always give them a star, a thumbs up or a clap.
Without further ado, here’s this week’s Monday Short Tale.
She no longer believed in fairies.
Once upon a time, she’d believed, just as all children believe in fairies, Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, Peter Pan, Jack Frost and all of their mythological friends. But then she grew up.
She learned the world always wasn’t bright and cheerful. She learned that bad things happen to good people and bad people receive good things.
She witnessed murder, mayhem, rape, destruction, all within the limits of her own city, her country she had once also believed in.
She knew that her school, even her own home wasn’t safe. She knew that just as she wasn’t safe, nor was her little sister, her little brother. Her parents weren’t protected, her friends. Just as she wasn’t safe, neither was anyone she loved.
As she grew up, she grew stronger but also harder, tougher but also colder. As she learned to protect herself from the war of life, the innocence of her childhood left her. As she grew up, the magic of the rose colored glass of youth shattered.
She did miss the days when she’d believed. The days of her childhood when her greatest worry was missing the latest showing of her favorite cartoon. When her hours were filled with running through the backyard chasing the fairies of her imagination, when she wouldn’t be able to sleep Christmas Eve, wanting to catch Santa Claus coming down the chimney, when the cold air meant Jack Frost would soon be here.
Now, her hours were filled with knowledge useless in the real world being crammed in her head, filled with minimum wage jobs in retail to help her parents make ends meet despite working good jobs, saving every penny not going to household needs for college. Instead of enjoying the cold and joy of the season, she worried about midterms, she worried about keeping her grades up to get into a good college, she worried about her little brother and sister keeping their belief as long as possible.
She misses the joy of childhood, the innocence before blood was spilled, the richness of her imagination before her mind became jaded to the world’s ways.
Why must the magic end? Why does the pending Adulthood mean stress about college, worry about money making ends meet, keeping a roof over our heads? Why is our Country in such a state that our youth are losing the innocence and magic of their childhood younger and younger. Children deserve to be worry-free children, teenagers shouldn’t have to worry anything beyond if their crush will ask them out and what they should do the coming weekend with their friends. Even we adults don’t deserve to worry about the next gunman turning up in our own neighborhoods, that the woman outside our window or in our mirrors may become the next victim of a predator we don’t even realize is walking the streets. We should be able to trust one another, our country, each of them, should be United no matter our color, our race, our gender, our heritage, our age, our sexuality.
She used to believe in fairies. Now she’s just another depressed teenager, childhood innocence shattered.
Let’s keep the magic of childhood alive no matter how old we are.
Well… That escalated quickly.
It certainly turned into something I wasn’t expecting to pour out of my fingers today. But it’s no less true. We are the United States, let’s keep it that way with equality for everyone.
Chronicling the adventures of Buddy the Cat and his various criminal enterprises.
No matter how Dark it is; There is always a Rainbow to be found.
The Furred & Frond Management in charge of RJ Blain
Original and thoughtful food gifts you can make.
From critter antics to farm chores to domestic bliss, musings from our farmtastic life to yours.
By Miri Elm
Taking a swing at this writing thing
Food Photography & Recipes
If you want to be a hero well just follow me
Tales of humour, whimsy and courgettes