Twisted Tales

Twisted Tales

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WpMetadataReadOngoing1h 32m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Wed, Apr 22, 2020
If I could describe Abbey Welton... a 13-year-old girl, shoulder-length curly auburn hair, tall, slim, and freckled. But she is so much more than that. In a narrow 2 storied house in Washington, Abbey lives with her younger brother her Dad and his fiance; Sarah. Before Sarah, Abbey's mother used to live there too until she passed away from brain cancer when Abbey was four. Having dealt with trauma at such a young age, Abbey turned to reading stories. An intelligent girl she was, to have been reading at 4 years old (although Abbey was always smart and still is). Years and years of being locked up in her small room (optionally), reading her life away. Yet she never complained about it. Something about these stories made her feel better- as if they were an escape. She even used to pretend to be the characters in the books! But she never related more to any character than the ones from the fairytales. It was unexplainable to her at the time, but she just loved them so much. Part of the reason why she lives her life the way she does. Eventually, Abbey realized fairytales are not real, and they are just folklore for young children. But Abbey's life takes for a turn when her brother makes a wish on a wishing star. Abbey must figure out how to reverse the wish and find her brother while saving the fairytales. So next time you want to make a wish on a wishing star, just remember this: Be careful what you wish for ♥
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Lara, in this magical and enchanting world, nothing is a lie! So believe in fairy tales. This was the phrase my mother whispered to me every night with her gentle voice. When she read the story of "Jack and the Beanstalk," I would always curiously ask: • But why don't I have a magic bean that can take me wherever I want? She would smile kindly and keep hope alive in my heart. We all believed in magic and wizards as children, fairy tales, and Little Red Riding Hood! I wished I would never know the bitter taste of reality. But years after her death, I faced the harsh reality of the world; a reality I had always tried to escape. After my mother's death, her voice remained with me, inviting me to the bright world of hope; unlike many who grew up and no longer believed in any childish dreams. But I remained faithful to stories and the land of fairies, believing that destiny awaits us all! We are born into different tales and live with love. However, the bitterness of the world ensnared me in its grip. Just when I was only nine years old, I became acquainted with the bitter reality of life; when the snowy night arrived! I had never seen snow so terrifying and ugly. Because my mother was in bed, coughing up blood and taking her last breaths. A tiny bit of white snow had fallen from my woolen boots onto the ground, and when her hand hung limp, droplets of blood dripped from her fingers onto the snow, turning it red.

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