I was one weird, ugly kid. Not to brag but, luckily I had an above average intelligence and learned to read at a freakishly young age. My favorite uncle would give me books for gifts, and I would finish them in one day if not a few hours. I loved those enchanting books, and because of them I wanted to create my own world. All I would have to do was create doors on my walls with crayons, and then walk through them to another world. A world where I was beautiful with long hair, frilly dresses, and magical powers at my fingertips. I could turn forests into amusement parks with rides that spun colors like kaleidoscopes and giggles into musical melodies. My handsome King who adored me would sway with me to these symphonies until the final note when he kissed me.
My fantasy would end. But my stories didn’t. They were recreated on elementary school story paper, then diaries and journals. Eventually, I would write independently published “novels” where the heroine wasn’t exactly beautiful and nowhere near perfect, but her King adored her anyway.
I have embraced my awkward external beauty and choose to highlight its’ features in kaleidoscope colors. I have lost my mind only to find my Spirit, and I Love her. My King?? He is flawed. I am flawed, but the Love between us isn’t. I will tell our story and manifest our future with my words.
I am a writer based on a true story.
©michele mitchell, 2014
Photo Credit http://abstract.desktopnexus.com/wallpaper/1177015/