Feelings and Wall Narative

So... I'm in a weird mood. I've been trying to figure out what happens next and it's super frustrating. And I keep thinking why does this work out? Why does it turn out so happily? Life isn't like that.

Plus I was talking to a friend of mine and I was trying to describe this feeling that I had. But first I'm going to have you read this SUPER short story and see what you think and then I'll add my commentary. (If you don't want my commentary just stop at the end of the story) It's kind of deep and has a lot to do with me. So please don't feel obligated to read it. I just need to vent.

Wall Poem (yes, that's my title as of now)

I put out my hand and my fingers stroked against the rough, lichen covered stones of a massive wall. It looked worn and sturdy. How long had it been there? How long had I been unaware of it’s presence? The voice behind me murmured.

“You put it there, years ago.”

“Me?” I asked skeptically. One stone was a two feet tall and a foot wide, I don’t think I could’ve moved it, much less lifted it seven feet up. I turned but whoever had been standing behind me had vanished.

Turning back to the wall, I wondered if what the voice had said was true. If I had build the wall, why? Why did I feel the need to place a wall between me and the world? What was out there? Did I build the wall for protection? Was it dangerous?

Fear made the hair on my arms prickle in discomfort. Questions whirled around in my head. Part of me wanted to scale the wall and another wanted security in what I knew. Everything I knew was here, why should I leave it?

Slowly, hesitantly, I turned my back on the wall and promptly forgot about it.

Well?

Now I'm going to tell you what prompted it. So recently I've been doing a lot of thinking about who I am, what makes me do the things that I do, why I am the way that I am... You know just soul searching, trying to figure out what I want vs who I am at the moment.
I've discovered that (especially in this judgmental society we live in) People put up fronts to throw people off of who they are. We are all terrified of others finding out who we really are. I absolute HATE it. There are a few people in my life whom I feel are true and honest and completely at peace with who they are and I respect that. I may not like the person they are, but I respect the courage they have in showing who they are.
I feel like I put up this wall between me and people in general. I mean ALL people, including family and friends. Most of my life I didn't even realize I was putting it there. It just happened and I've only recently discovered that it's there.

This wall that I've built does two things, protects me from drama and the emotions of others and two, hides me. It protects my deepest darkest secrets and distorts my true self. Thing is I don't like my true self. I don't like who I am and the things I do. I'm not happy with who I am and so when I put up this wall, I not only fool everyone around me but lie to myself. That's just stupid and it's wrong.

For the longest time I've just ignored it and gone along with it.

I want to be the kind of person who can say exactly what she thinks and say exactly what she did without feeling embarrassed or feeling like she needs to edit. When someone sincerely wants to know something about me I want to be secure enough with myself to be open about it. I want to be honest with myself and others. Can you imagine it? Just being able to be so free and open? It sounds so liberating to me.

My friend argued that there are people who would judge and think things that were unfair. For example, lets say that I had gone to the opera and I was very excited and being very vocal, of course they would look at me and think, "What the?" with perhaps some disgust. But... I don't see what's so wrong about that... I mean, if they don't give me a chance and never really get to know me, then why should I feel obligated to be their friends and why should I have to reform who I am?

There are of course more serious examples, let's say that I cheated on a quiz and came forward about it. Forever there will be people who will look at me and think, "Oh, that's the girl who cheated." But I was honest and fixed the problem and struggle from that point on to never cheat again, so why should it be a problem?

Her argument was, why do they need to know?

My rebuttal was they may not need to know. But if they ask, I want be able to 100 percent honest. I never want to have to edit or lie. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of half truths and talking around things. Why can't we just come out and say things? Why can't I just bash down this stupid wall?

Writing Party

Things learned from our party:

1. Jessica is being shunned. (Though I thank her for her feedback)
2. Castles look like castles. (For pronunciation and intonation guide fine Alex or Briteny)
3. Children must have really depressing lives to have interesting ones
4. We all hate bad guys... especially slime like Kerk.

There our meeting in a nutshell. I thought it went pretty well, BUT I can't see Briteny's blog. I need you to invite me so I can see.

Alright now that the business is taken care of and I FINALLY have time to write, let's get down to the nitty gritty.

Literally. (Tyra's face should give you the creeps after my story. That's my goal.)

So I've noticed that I love gore and guts. Disgusting? Yes, but it's so much fun to describe. Anyway, several of my stories tend to go into detail and for that I apologize but all the succulent words you can use are for things that decompose or are bleeding... Anyway... I've finally finished my short story (I call it that but it's actually 6 pages long) based on the scary dream I had. If any of you watch America's Next Top Model this will make perfect sense to you.

Now I have a rule about my stuff, when you read it you are brutally honest with me about whether you liked it or not and how I can fix it. What I did wrong and what I can do to improve. So if you read it PLEASE give me feedback.

The Decapitation of Tyra Banks

I fiddled with my mustard suit. It was hideous against my skin. I sighed inwardly, yellow was not my color. My costume was short skirted and tight against my hips and chest, accenting my curves. The doors opened as I was examining the insignia on my left side. It was tacky, the four initials ANTM surrounded by a ring but I was determined not to say anything. As a model I would act professionally and perform to please. This was my chance to shine, we had gotten this far and I wanted to make sure we stayed in the competition.

I looked out to the bridge and looked for the familiar mustard. My teammate had already been put to work, sitting in front of a green screen, headphones on, typing erratically. I turned my attention back to my situation. I had to focus if we were going to survive. Before me stood my captain, and I saluted, clicking my heels to emphasize the crispness. Years of experience and practice let me smooth my face into a cold and indifferent mask, but inside I was dying to crack a smile, an infectious grin that tweaked the corner of my mouth. I would enjoy this challenge, I could do a military shoot. My father and both my brothers had been in the army and had made it their “sub-mission” to make sure I knew everything there was to know about the Marines and Air Force division.

My captain smiled without teeth showing, long lashes lowered condescendingly.

I didn’t find it at all comforting. A hand crawled up my spine, squeezing my heart uncomfortably.

She’s in a similar suit, but it’s dark red. Her dark skin gives it an exotic feel.

“Ilea, I’m glad you made it.” Captain Tyra Banks murmurs quietly, her huge green eyes bore down into me, she’s at least a head taller with her four inch matching red heels.

I smile, not trusting my voice. This entire experience had been nothing like I’d imagined. First we were shoved together in a small warehouse and asked to form teams. That part had been easy, I’d come with a friend so we paired up and convinced a tall, dark skinned male model, Josh, to join us. He was good-natured, funny and spoke only after he thought it out, something I had not expected. Unfortunately the majority of the things said about models are true. Most male models are either gay, or complete idiots. Most of the time both.

The theme for our challenge had been Horror.

Not my favorite theme.

Apparently too many competitors had passed the application process and they needed to whittle us down. For our first challenge we were supposed to find a cottage in the middle of the a very dark and creepy forest. Fortunately,- and I am very proud to report- my determination overwhelmed all fear. Despite my all the military training I’d gotten, I will never ever like the dark and the things that come with it. My friend, Crysta, thinks she’s impervious to everything and anything, so she didn’t feel any fear and Josh had experience camping at night. So really I was the only one who had a problem with the forest.

We decided that splitting up was the best idea, Josh taught us how to find our direction using the stars and moon (full, of course) when we had found the cottage we could phone each other and tell the other which direction we had gone.

All I can say about the experience is that I’m glad it’s over.

Every time something jumped out at me or something slimy touched my neck, I would stiffen and tell myself over and over, They can’t hurt me, they can’t hurt me. And keep walking fists clenched and arms kept tight to my side. I was afraid that if I didn’t have absolute control over myself I might hit someone on accident. In contrast Crysta would laugh at everything. She has a morbid sense of humor, finds things like hitting babies funny. Usually I disapprove, but as I walked through the pines, I would hear her distinct cackle and couldn’t help but crack a grin wondering what had poor zombie or monster had jumped out at her this time.

We were unbeatable, until Josh fell and sprained his ankle.

So as the team who had won five out of six times, all but Josh was allowed on. For everyone else they chose the MVP.

For some reason, I found it very very wrong.

Call me crazy, call me paranoid, call my whatever you want but I just didn’t like it. I felt like everyone was sharing a secret that had to do with me and were thoroughly entertained by my ignorance.

I hated it.

I’d never been bullied. I was protected not only by brothers and the skills they taught me, but my own beauty and charisma. These self-same qualities put a huge target on my forehead. So while I wasn’t physically abused, it didn’t stop the rumors and slander that circulated around me.

I hate secrets, I hate rumors and I hate feeling ignorant. This challenge was making me itch in frustration and incomprehension. We were supposed to be modeling for Pete’s sake, so why the challenge of running through a forest to test our bravery? I wasn’t about to protest or anything but it just didn’t make any sense.

“Do you understand?” Captain Banks was assigning me

Crap! I’d been so lost in my thoughts I’d missed half of it. I forced myself to focus. “Yes, Captain.”

She nodded and handed me a packet. I looked over it, desperately trying to catch up on what I’d missed. I was a communications officer, “Where is my seat, Captain?”

I was directed to a small section of the bridge with several other women. I looked around the ship. Most of the team members that had made it on were female. I pursed my lips, what were the guys all ugly this year? I didn’t like it. Angrily I pushed away all the paranoid thoughts, it was making me twitchy and making me notice all the things I shouldn’t focus on.

I sat and took a deep breath. Horror, that’s right. Again, I examined the ship, trying to imagine the different situations that could happen. Alien invasion? Most likely. They’d better have some sick costumes. I thought irritably. It’ll be hard to scare us without the darkness to cover for them. I paused. What does this have to do with modeling, again? I was becoming increasingly confused about what these exercises were about. Maybe they have hidden cameras? I shrugged off all other concerns and started to focus on my job: communications.

I put on my headphones and started to read through the packet, quickly skimming through what I thought was important.

It seemed pretty basic. My job was to translate any incoming messages and give them to the captain and then reply with anything she gave my in return. There were certain procedures for certain species of aliens but other than that it was nothing special. My first transmission came in and I began to translate.

This was child’s play. In minutes I had it decoded and on to the captain.

She accepted it and read through it. “Tell them we would be glad to accommodate them.”

Firmly I nodded and went back to my station. Only when I was sitting did I frown. Allowing my smooth “model face” to relax into everyday expressions. What was going on? The message I had decoded informed us of the inventory of a nearby way station, we had no need to accommodate them for anything. If anything we were the ones who would need accommodating by them. I looked back at my captain, but she had turned back to another report.

I shrugged and sent the her response. My job was to do what I was told, if I questioned the captain’s orders it was like mutiny. That’s how things had been in the English Navy way back when. That was how the military worked. You trusted your commanding officers and did as commanded, no questions asked. Were things like that here?

I was caught up in my own thoughts when a male voice came through my headphones. “Ilea Remmington?”

“Yes, sir?”

“We need you to report below the bridge, come immediately.”

I took off my headphones and obediently went to the elevator pushing the corresponding button.

As the doors closed I noticed that Tyra’s green eyes were no longer on her reports, but smiling at me. As if she knew something I didn’t.

I shuddered as the doors closed and clenched my teeth. Hastily I promised myself, I’m never dating a guy with green eyes. A thought stopped me and I smiled slightly smug. Even if they are just contacts, at least my eye color is real. There was no way Tyra’s real eye color was green.

The doors dinged open and I stepped into a vacant enclosed room. Built in desks and computers lined the walls and in the center was a table, gray and cold. I’d come to the conclusion that because space itself was cold, everything on the spaceship felt cold and therefore gave me the shivers.

A man stood by the table his back to me. His arm insignia showed that he was second to the captain.

I snapped to attention, clicking my heels together again.

He didn’t bother turning around. “At ease, officer.” He was bent over something at the table. I leaned slightly trying to get a better look. But he turned and forced my attention to his face before I could get a good look.

I had to school my expressions into smoothness when I saw his face. It, no, he was gorgeous. Tall, dark and handsome in a nutshell. He had wavy black hair, brushed to one side and a firm square jaw that boasted a full beard. His eyes were a startling blue, that twinkled with kindness and strength. I quickly looked the rest of him over.

Oh, tall, dark and built.

I could feel myself blushing and wanted to slap myself. Instead of examining him more closely I cut him off, trying to imagine one of my stern and obnoxious brothers standing in front of me instead. As soon as the illusion was in place I could handle the situation better. I could ignore his immense and overwhelming presence and focus. There was just so much of him.

As soon as I had myself in control, I met his eyes and lost it all over again. He was grinning as if amused by my reaction to him and his eyes weren’t judging but welcoming and piercing all in one.

I dropped my eyes, breathing started to pick up again. Dang it, girl. Get yourself together. Instead I looked just beyond him and fuzzed my vision by going slightly cross-eyed. There. If I can’t see him, I’ll be okay.

He spoke. “Communications Officer, Ilea. You do good work.”

Silky goodness. I was going to melt and I couldn’t very well plug my ears. I steeled myself and cleared my throat, gauging it’s stability before speaking. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” At least the basic responses had been drilled into me.

I sensed rather than saw him smile. “Oh, come, there’s no need to be so formal with me. I’m simply here to answer any questions or concerns you have.” In two strides he was next to me and I made the horrible mistake of inhaling.

His aftershave was wonderful, clean, smelled of spring, the glorious scent of some kind of some kind of flower--

What was wrong with me!?

Everything about this man was drawing me in. He was only a few feet away and I wanted to close the distance. His uniform didn’t leave much to the imagination and I longed to run my hands across his chiseled chest and shoulders, to run my fingers through the softness of his hair, to coax a soft throaty chuckle in that silky voice. Or his lips--

I grasped the wall for support, completely and totally losing all control I thought I had.

His arms were around me, supporting me. “Are you alright?”

I about had a heart attack, his face was inches away from mine and the feel of his arms, very firm arms I might had, made my heart pound incriminatingly against my throbbing chest.

“I’m fine!” Completely embarrassed I pushed him away, bright red and eyes down. Adrenaline shocked me out of my daze. I kept my back to him and tried to compose myself. Why was I here again? I swallowed several times before I felt like my voice would come out normally. “Was there anything you needed, sir?” I cringed preparing myself for his enthralling voice.

“No, I was just concerned for you. I know that you had a hard time in the forest and lost a team-mate.”

Something stirred in my mind. That was the wrong answer. I mean, if I cut out all the mesmerizing qualities, his words made no sense. My face became hard, and the adrenaline pumping through my veins seemed to heighten my vision and thought process. Everyone else in the competition had lost both their team-mates, I had lost only one. If he was truly concerned about that why wasn’t he talking to one of them. Maybe he already talked to each of them? One side called out. I shoved the thought aside and turned to face him.

The heart attack resulting from this encounter had a similar source but for a different cause. He was hideous! Allow me to describe it in detail, because I certainly got quite a good look as we were only a few feet away. His eyes were now glazed and white, staring emptily-- hungrily at me. His hair was wispy and white, showing a bald and literally rotting surface. As my eyes reached the maggots squirming in his cheek and in his blackened teeth, the stench reached me. I will never forget it.

I gagged, unable to scream or run, my eyes still wide in terror.

His hunched body, stumbled closer with a hand outreached. One finger was missing and the rest were shreds of skin, muscle and bone. His mandible clacked up and down, dripping juices. “What’s wrong? Are you alright?” It was abnormally high pitched, gurgling and squeaking with retained blood.

Finally, finally, I was able to scream.

The next bit is still a blur. I don’t remember what happened and I have no desire to recall anything about it. All I know is that somehow I was able to get into the elevator (which took eternity to reach our floor) get in it and back up to the bridge without getting too much goo on my hands.

I was panting and holding my hands out away from my nice suit in the elevator. To get him away I’d had to push him or maybe I’d hit him. I refused to look at them, at the moment I was just trying to get the smell out of my mind.

The elevator dinged and I stepped out in a daze.

With how I was feeling I expected everyone to turn and stare at me, but no on did. They were all working hard, too focused to notice that I was covered in blood and segments of digestive tract.

One head did turn.

Somehow I was able to keep the scream from escaping again, I swallowed and examined my captain. She had less flesh on her than her second, for some reason it made her less real. And somehow she was able to keep her beauty even in that state of decay. I stood frozen, a deer in headlights as she stood and walked toward me. When she was directly in front of me a a muffled squeak escaped me.

Her jaws opened, it was like someone was moving her mouth up and down and saying, “Ilea?” Her voice changed into the solemn yet gentle one she preferred when kicking people off the show. “Ilea, before me I see a young woman with great potential--”

I screamed and hit her. I hated that voice, that false, patronizing-- I searched for the word-- speech! I spat it the word, trying to ignore the stench and throbbing from my right hand.

When I looked up I saw, Tyra... well, Trya neck down. Her head was now across the room, still looking at me but thankfully silent. I couldn’t believe it. I had knocked off, I looked down at my fist in disbelief.

Screams and people burst from the area the head had landed and among it all, laughter erupted from one side of the room and I looked over to see Crysta struggling to rise from her chair. She looked at me and pointed at Tyra’s head on the floor. “You just knocked Trya’s head off. Ilea-- Ilea, you just popped her head off.” she swung a fist to emphasize what she meant. Something of a snort left her lips and she collapsed in another fit of laughter. “Tyra’s (more laughing accompanied by small snorts) head (big breath) is on the floor.”

Everyone else was now staring in open shock and horror at us. I heard someone empty they’re stomach and several get up and try the elevator. It wasn’t responding.

A male model approached me fury flaring off him. He slapped me, hard. I fell to the floor and put a a cool and wet hand to my face. “How could you do something like that?!” He screamed, spittle flying. “What’s wrong with you? Security Officers! Security!”

What was wrong with me? What was wrong with him? I stood and slapped him just as hard back, my anger way past it’s boiling point. “She’s a monster! She was going to kill us, her and the second-in-command! I saw him down below the brid-” at that moment the elevator dinged and out stepped the hunched and decomposing mound of flesh I had just escaped moments before.

I could feel the blood leave my face. His eyes found mine and I felt faint. I gripped a nearby desk and looked around the room, wanting to see the reactions of my fellow shipmates. The girls were having a similar reaction to me, but instead of the blood leaving their faces it was rushing to their cheeks. The men looked at the rotting monster with admiration and as if in sync the girls closed the distance, squeals escaping some of them. I looked on in complete disbelief and horror. They liked him. Realization struck me like a brick and I sat in a now vacant chair, watching the scene unfold before me. They were seeing a gloriously attractive man while I saw the truth. They couldn’t see that the arms they fondled were soft and wet from blood and pus oozing out of boils. That the cheek one girl kissed was filled with maggots. I gagged and whirled away.

Across the room, Crysta had kept her space as well. She wasn’t watching with disgust though, just mild interest one eyebrow raised in skepticism. She wasn’t under his spell.

I stood and crossed the room to whisper to her. “Do you see him? What color are his eyes?”

She gave me a woah-chilax-girl look and then turned back to study him. She brought a hand to her chin, considering. “Well, it’s hard to tell. But I think at one point they were probably blue, he’s melting pretty fast though.”

“Melting?” I asked, I was relieved though. She saw what I was seeing, but melting was an odd term to use for it.

“Sure.” she said unconcerned. “I mean everyone is at different stages right? But his skin and muscle is falling off really fast from the last time I saw him.”

“You saw him before now? And he was like” I gestured in his direction. “this.”

She nodded, “Yup, but then again who isn’t?”

Okay, I was getting really confused. “Huh?”

She looked at me, confused too. Cautiously she asked, “You mean he’s the only one who looks like that to you?”

“Well, him and Trya.” I muddled over what she had just said, “Crysta,” I said softly, “are you saying that everyone looks like that to you?”

She nodded, she seemed relieved I wasn’t treating her like a freak. I swallowed, not sure how I did feel about my best friend seeing everyone as a decomposing pile of fat and gastric juices.

“Okay.” I said.

She watched me. Nervously.

“Um, so what stage am I in?” I wasn’t exactly sure I wanted to know, but the silence was stifling me.

She brightened immediately, “Oh that’s easy, you lost all your skin a long time ago. Now you are mostly bone, like Tyra, if you need to compare it to one of these two. I didn’t know you had what I did, Ilea. What pills are you taking? My doctor has me taking...”

My vision went gray and my ears started buzzing. I lost whatever Crysta was trying to tell me. My last coherent thoughts were, Oh, dear Lord, I’ve gone insane. I looked over at Tyra’s body. And I think I just killed Tyra Banks.

Going Through the Attic

Guess what guys... as a college student, I get no sleep and any free time I have is taken (homework... work... studing). Yes, that means there's going to be nothing new for a while. I've got a few ideas brewing but there's no way I'm going to give them to you until they actually have some kind of form.
So, instead I went through some old papers, stories and poems in my closet and I found this. I rather like it and I thought it was pretty safe for the first post.

First this book was written for a Kidnergarter, so don't judge.

Maggie, the main character of this story, is a very cute little girl who is insane about Princesses. She’s very quiet, contemplative and angelic. She loves the library, giraffes and animals of all kind, vegetables and cleaning her room (Hey... for all we know she could be a princess in disguise). She hates bats and other creepy crawlies.

So when I was interviewing her, (becuase she was the main charachter after all) she told me that she wanted to be a princess for Halloween but her mother told her that a costume was too expensive. I wanted to console her a little. I added explanations along the way in (parentheses.)

Oh by the way you should have seen the illustrations done by my sister (Sydney) they were gorgeous!

Maggie and the Giant Bat

Once there was a perfect child named Maggie. She did everything that a little girl should. She cleaned her room, set the table and ate her vegetables, but more than anything she wanted to be a Princess. And everyone knows that every princess needs a crown.

“I’ll find a crown another day,” Maggie thought as she and her little brother went outside to play. Besides being a princess, playing was her next favorite thing.

Suddenly a huge bat appeared, flapping and speaking, “I’m lonely. Will you play with me?” Maggie didn’t like bats, they scared her and this was an extra big and extra scary bat.

“No!” She told the bat.

But her brother was not afraid of bats so he said, “Okay, I’ll come with you.”

The Bat swooped down and plucked up Maggie’s brother and flew away. Maggie called after them. She was afraid the Bat would hurt her little brother. Looking around, she saw the swing set that they had been playing on. She jumped on a swing and started pumping, back and forth and back and forth and back and forth until finally she was high enough to let go and fly after the Bat.

Flying was fun. (Flying you ask? It's a children's book, anything can happen) She could see everything, and the wind felt wonderful, but unlike the Bat, she didn’t have wings and couldn’t steer. So when a big tree got in the way instead of going around, she crashed straight into it. She bounced all the way down to the ground, hurt, tired, and very hungry. She had forgotten to eat lunch and now her stomach growled.

As she sat by the tree, she felt very lost and very alone. She was far from home, and she didn’t know where her brother was or how to save him. “Are you alright?” said a voice. Maggie looked up and there was a tall woman with glasses.

“Who are you?” asked Maggie.

“I’m your fairy librarian,” said the woman, “Are you alright?”

Maggie shook her head and explained what had happened.

The woman nodded, “If you can answer this riddle correctly, I will give you three wishes.”

“What’s the riddle?” asked Maggie.

“What looks beautiful, smells beautiful, loves water and light, but you wouldn’t want to touch?”

Maggie thought hard, pacing around and around and then she saw a dandelion. It reminded her of her Father’s flowers (Her father worked with flowers in real life) and she bent to pick it. Then she realized that flowers loved water and light and they smelled and looked pretty too. “Roses!” she said. “Roses have thorns so you don’t want to touch them!”

The woman nodded, “Now you have three wishes. You may choose three things to take with you. I have already given you a map to the Bat’s castle.”

Maggie thought and thought and her stomach growled. “Food,” she decided and she thought some more. What else would she need? She didn’t need anything else so she said, “Flower seeds and… a crown.” She almost jumped up and down with joy. She had always wanted a crown of her very own. The librarian nodded again and suddenly she was holding a backpack full of everything she had asked for.

“Good luck,” she said and then she was gone.

The first thing Maggie did after putting her crown on was study the map. On her way to the Bat’s castle there was a zoo! Maggie was so happy she jumped up and ran all the way there. At the zoo there were lots of animals, but Maggie wanted to see a certain one. A giraffe was trying to eat some leaves at the very top of a tree and she called to him. “Hey, giraffe!”

He looked down at her. “Hello, who are you?”

“I’m Princess Maggie!”

“Oh, since you’re a princess can you help me? I can’t reach these leaves and I’m terribly hungry.” Maggie looked up at the leaves and knew there was no way she could climb such a scary tree. Being a princess was harder than had she thought.

“I have some food!” she said, and then her stomach growled; she still hadn’t eaten and she was still hungry.

The giraffe heard her stomach and said, “You must be hungry too, I’ll share with you.”

So they ate the food together, once they had eaten all of the food. The Giraffe sighed gratefully. “Thank you, I feel much better. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Maggie told him about her problem and he said, “I’ll come with you.”

And to Maggie’s and everyone’s amazement he stepped over a tall fence and told her to climb on his back. Maggie climbed up and rode the rest of the way to the Bat’s castle.

The Bat’s castle was floating in the sky, so even on the Giraffes high neck she couldn’t reach it. Not knowing what else to do, she threw the seeds up onto the castle and waited. The seeds were magical and soon vines grew all the way down to where Maggie was waiting.

“You’ll have to climb up,” said the giraffe.

Maggie grabbed the vines and pulled herself to the top trying not to look down. When she reached the top, her arms ached. “Being a princess is hard,” she thought and ran into the castle.

When she got inside the castle, she found her little brother playing with the Bat, and it looked like they were having fun! “We have to go home,” she told her brother.

“But if your brother leaves who will play with me?” asked the Bat.

“I don’t know. Find some other bats to play with!” said Maggie. The bat still scared her very very much, and she didn’t want to stay here for long.

The Bat said quietly, “There are no other big bats to play with and all the little ones don’t like me.” And then he started to cry.

Maggie had never seen a bat cry before, and now she felt bad. She always felt sad when she had no one to play with. The Bat kept crying, so Maggie gave him a big hug.

The crying stopped, and when Maggie looked, the Bat had turned into a cocoon.

“What did you do?” asked her brother

“I don’t know. The Bat must be inside,” she said

“Probably because he’s so sad,” her brother said.

Maggie looked at the cocoon and looked around; she didn’t know what would make the bat happy when he came out. She had no flowers to give him or food, but she did have a crown. She took her crown off and looked at it. To become a princess she needed the crown, and she wanted to keep it, but right now the Bat was sad, and she had nothing else to make him happy. So she put her crown on the cocoon and she and her brother went down the vines on to the giraffe and back home. The giraffe went back to the zoo since that was his home.

Maggie was sad that she still didn’t have a crown, and she still wasn’t a princess. One day while she was playing outside, she saw a butterfly on a flower, but it had her crown! It was a very small butterfly and she was afraid, she would scare it. “Hello Maggie!” it said.

“Bat?” she asked.

“You broke the curse on me and now I’m no longer a bat,” said the butterfly and he fluttered away. “Thank you!” she heard him call.

Maggie watched the butterfly and she heard a voice behind her. “You never needed a crown to become a princess,” said the fairy librarian. “To become a princess you need to act like a princess, with kindness towards everyone and everything.”

Maggie smiled. She had done it! She had flown, helped a giraffe, saved her brother, and broken a curse. She hugged the librarian, “Thank you, Fairy Librarian.” The librarian smiled and then was gone.