Zvijer Stories

When I was younger my father always told me stories of the other worlds. Worlds of envy, beauty and magic. He'd tell them in a way that made you wonder for hours, distracting your thoughts with jumbled pastels and smooth silks fluttering away in your inner mind's eyes like dancing shadows. He told of beasts and heroes, of magical beings that ceased to exist long before my entrance into this world, or his for that matter. My sisters used to tease me for my entrancement of the Fae prince my father would tell us about. In my little mind, I would imagine growing up and meeting this fair prince and falling in love to become a princess. Of course, fate always had other things in mind, besides- those were just stories. They were never real. Or so I believed.