Start
By hippielettuce
- 391 reads
I leaf through pages of the hundreds of fiction books lining my bedroom walls. Outside seems gloomy. Inside feels the same.
The mirror catches my eye, so I straighten up and provide the sensual half-smile I've practiced. I am an icon of confidence, after all. I moved to a big city right after I graduated high school, and batted my eyelashes all the way up Hollywood's nine circles of Hell. My closet boasts dresses that fit my body perfectly, and fans parade me with unsolicited gifts every time I leave my penthouse building. Some say that I'll be a household name forever.
My eyes flicker back to the books before me. A few moments pass, until soft rain breaks the silence. I stare up at a small, misted window as the rain drops fall progressively faster.
I'd better catch my flight soon. My movie is going to be premiered later today in New York City. It's a groundbreaking subject, my film. Even my parents are showing up. If I fail to appear tonight, everyone will inform me that they missed me.
"Tremendously," I mouth, running a thumb over an embossment of Aesop's name. Suddenly, the shabby bookshelves along my bedroom transform into stone walls adorned with an instant blockbuster's storyboard. My signature tails the ending scene elegantly.
Extending my legs, a book's pages begin to flutter against my ankle. I recognize it as a classic romance. I'm distracted as my soulmate walks back in from the large balcony. Behind him, I see the leaves of palm trees dancing in the late sun. He smiles, and I can only imagine how cool I look through his eyes. His hair is black, and long over his che-
No, his hair will be red. Or maybe it should be wavy...brown? We met at the beach. He had witnessed me propose a check to the nation's most desperate city for twenty million dollars. Citizens had cheered. He'd fallen in love.
I curl up on my couch, and it groans with every adjustment I make. Water drips from a hole in the ceiling, making a muffled crash-landing into the carpet. My mother's words during our phone call keep looping around my head.
I've told you, you had a lotta potential until you holed yourself up and started reading stories all the damn time.
"They're the only things that excite me. I can't think of anything else."
You can read all you want once you've got a stable living set up, sweetie. Just settle for something until you get there, I promise it'll be fine. I did it. Your dad did it too.
"I can't even settle on what I want to settle on right now, mom."
Say that again?
"One morning I decide I'm going to become a mysterious shelf stocker at the gas station. But by noon I want to be a cigar-smoking architect in France-"
There's no need for you to be mysterious or musical or any of that. If this is a joke to you, I'll stop worrying about it. You've always had this big fairy tale veil...
Her words whisk away as the rain coaxes me to sleep. This couch is pretty comfortable as long as you're wearing a long-sleeved sweater. The spine of a book nudges my back, so I toss it onto the table beside me. Its cover reads "Iron Hans" with the subtext "Fairy Tale".
A fairy tale sounds nice, I think, smiling as I slip away from my grayed bedroom, and into vivid dreams of imaginary lives with fanciful friends and godly lovers.
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Comments
A lovely piece of imagination
A lovely piece of imagination. This really resonated with me - there have certainly been times in my life when I've retreated into fantasy to escape the every day. Your opening is utterly convincing, we truly believe that this is her reality, and then comes the reveal. An absorbing take on the IP.
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