Once, as a kid, she had believed (or rather, hoped) that her life would turn out to be something of a fairytale.
Now, as an adult, she knew far better. There were no such things as wishes, fairy godmothers and happy endings. Life was bitter, hard and cold; and all you could do was make the best of it.
And so she did, keeping her feet solidly on the ground and her head out of the clouds.
While she managed just fine, it also meant she missed quite a lot. Like that one frog in the pond she walked by almost every day for example, that oddly enough seemed to wear a tiny little crown. Or that pure white horse that once crossed the street in front of her house, with hooves that almost appeared to be golden, and something strangely similar to a horn on its head.
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Tiny Stories Part 2
Historia CortaMy second collection of microfiction, sometimes dealing with the mundane, but mostly dealing with the magical. Unlike the first collection, the stories in this one are based on inktober prompts.
