Everyone loves their childhood for different reasons.
Some are children that were constantly adored by their parents. They were given anything their hearts desired. They never were scolded, and absolutely no one could refuse their puppy face.
That wasn’t me.
Childhood was, for me, a time of innocence.
Life was predictable and boring. The only monsters were the ones that existed in my mind. I could wake up from a nightmare, get a few reassuring words from my grandmother, and then I was tucked back into bed like I hadn’t been sobbing minutes ago.
It didn’t matter that I didn’t know my parents.
Or know what happened to them.
All that matter that I was happy, safe, and that life was bright.
YOU ARE READING
Songbird
ParanormalWren Duval was something that most of her peers weren't: content. As a girl who grew up in France during the Middle Ages, isolated from almost everyone, she couldn't possibly know how lucky she was. All that she knew was that she was happy. In the m...
