Little Girl Big Dreams
My name is Anwen Desmond. When I was a little girl, my mother used to tell me stories about the fairy creatures and elves who lived in a magical land of peace and prosperity. Back then, we lived in a little house on a hillside where you could see the whole city on one side, and a magical grove with a meadow on the other.
She told me she had named me after a fairy she had met and it was the most beautiful fairy in the world.
Back then life was happy.
We would go on walks and have picnics in the grove.
We would try to imagine which butterflies were fairies and which were just butterflies.
Of course I said all the pretty ones were fairies, but she told me I was wrong. Even if I didn't think they were pretty now, they were beautiful when you could see their tiny figures and dresses.
She knew. She had seen them.
But all that ended when I turned six.
She had a cough. Which turned into another illness. That killed her.
On her deathbed, she told be to just believe, and I would see.
I always believed in the fairies. But that wasn't what she was talking about. There was more than just fairies out there.
Soon after my mother's passing, my father followed. He had worked in the factories and inside the smoke more, I'm actually surprised my mother had gotten the cough first.
Later I found out that after she put me to bed, she had gone out almost every night to try to treat others with the cough.
They had given it to her at the most contagious stage.
At seven years old, I had to leave my home and the magical grove to live with my uncle in the city. At 8 years old I had to start working in the factories myself because my uncle was ill. And over all those years living with my uncle I had all the magic and fairies and elves punched out of my system from all the hard work at the factories and the boring life living with my uncle.