The One That Got Away -D.M

fairytales

"Not all fairytales have happy endings," Annabelle sighed as she placed down another of her muggle books on top of her ever-growing pile. Annabelle dreamed of those fairytales that she read in mugglebooks, the ones where her fairy godmother will whisk her away to a ball and meet a handsome prince or she would prick her finger and fall asleep for 100 years and her prince would give her a kiss to wake her up; life doesn't work like that. Not for Annabelle anyway.

She grew up in a world full of fairytales and magic and as her father says 'your imagination is just the beginning of your dreams,' but she knew that her life wasn't a fairytale. It was far from it. Annabelle lived in a semi-derelict cottage within Yorkshire, even though it was tumbledown and worn; she didn't care. To her it was home. Her father gave her the best childhood as he possibly could, with not a lot to his name and nobody else to help him co-parent he tried his absolute upmost to provide Annabelle with the things she needed and the things she wanted -even though this wasn't always possible. He missed out on some birthday and Christmas present gifts because he just couldn't afford it, Annabelle didn't care though; she had her father and her books and that's all she needed.

From the outside people would turn away from Annabelle's childhood home or shoot a disgusted look at it; though it did not look the best on the outside with brick walls that crumbled at the touch and paint work upon the window frames which flaked from left, right and centre. The inside however, was a different story. Presumably, an onlooker would believe that the inside of this worn-down cottage would be just as disheveled as the outside but they were wrong; the furniture may not have been modern and matched perfectly to the off-white, now slightly cream, walls but they had a rustic feel about them. Though the cottage was ever so tumbledown and worn there was not a speck of dirt nor dust insight; every so often several sweeping brushes apparated in each room of the cottage and did its best to clean every aspect of the place. Every crook and corner. Under the furniture, rugs and even in the tiny hole in the wall which has yet to be repaired; this would seem unusual and make muggles look twice at what they were witnessing but it was the utter norm for those who resided here. Up the battered stairs, which looked as if ten dozen horses galloped up them everyday, led to a landing of rooms, one to the left which looked dark at first but gave off a kind persona as an individual walked passed; next to that was positioned a small bathroom, only big enough to fit one person in at a time with a shower cubicle where the glass looked as if it had not been cleaned in years, a basic looking toilet and a sink with a tap which rocked from side to side and squirted water at completely random intervals.

Directly opposite from the stairs stood another room with a door that looked as it it had been cemented in place, anyone could imagine what was through that doorway, maybe it had once been used as storage for where a previous farm had been or maybe it contained an ever-growing troll that had to be trapped in a room otherwise it would trample upon those who stepped within its path before it had even been tamed and taught. But no, in fact it was an office space filled to the brim with boxes, suitcases and cages galore. A few cauldrons were thrown in the midst of tattered versions of the Daily Prophet from 1975 and 1981 which were scattered across the floor covered in mould and damp. This room would be a house elf's idea of heaven. The final room upon the landing made an individual think as if they were not in a dismantled cottage but more of a newly built family home. The walls were covered head to toe in pink and white -a typical colour choice of an 11 year old girl- and minuscule butterflies fluttered around the room creating beautiful patterns as they flew around. The bed continued on with the pink and white theme with drapers that hung from the ceiling and cascaded down the side of the bed, creating a feeling of warmth and royalty as if the girl who slept there were a princess herself. Within the corner of the room stood a manky old bookcase whose shelves looked as if they were good enough to snap any day now, books of fairytales old and new stood proudly up one them. Battered and bruised with covers falling off showed how much these books were loved and cared for, they were read religiously. And for a little girl who knew nothing other than magical kingdoms, fairytales gave her the slight hope that one day everything may turn out just right.