This was written quite a few years ago for an essay at school. The title was: The Lost Child. It kind of has an unfinished feel. Maybe because we were limited to how long it was supposed to be and it got cut off mid flow… I always thought I’d come back to it and try and write an end but I can’t for the life of me think of one… So I suppose, like the character says, if you can think of one write to me c/o…

Have you ever noticed how every fictional character has a perfect ending? Maybe not a perfect life but the fade out on films, TV shows and even books almost always leaves the story-teller walking into the sunset with the girl/boy/alien of their dreams. Sickening huh?

OK so sometimes things don’t go to plan… the lover dies, leaves them, realises they are gay what ever at least they’ve had them for a short period of time to enrich their lives and take them a little step closer to happiness. BLUH.

I hate those stories, mainly because it never happens to me. I mean even in Titanic, when you know even before it starts that most of them are going to die, you get a happy reunion in a place where the ship didn’t sink, everyone loves everyone else and so what if Jack was too lower class for Rose? THESE THINGS DO NOT HAPPEN!

Not to the majority of us anyway. How many hookers have dreamed that they will meet a Richard Gere looky likey instead of the usual scum of the earth? I know most of them around here have. But not me. I’ve always gone with the “dreams make you weak” factor.

I once believed in Fairy Stories. Prince Charming, white horses and happily ever afters in huge castles but I soon had that knocked out of me.

Up until the age of 7 I thought you found the love of your life, settled down with lot’s of money and lived happily ever after just like my mummy and daddy. I couldn’t see the cracks showing underneath. The arguments in the dead of night went un-heard. The sudden appearance of bruises on my mother’s frail body went un-noticed. Then the visits from my drunk daddy started, and the dream shattered like my mothers arm when he hit it with a hammer.

I’ve never worked out why she stayed with him. Maybe she still believed her Prince Charming was buried in there somewhere only to be re-awoken by her fairy godmother. I don’t know. All I do know is she put up with it when I couldn’t.

I lived like that for 8 years. With the, “Yes Miss. I fell down the stairs Miss,” or, “No sorry. You can’t stay tonight. We have guests.” The truth is you make up any excuse you can just to make sure no one else spots the cracks.

Reality doesn’t have a “happily ever after” guarantee. I wish it did but…

Dreams are all well and good but sometimes the reality of life is too real. Too painful. How do you make this into a happy ending? Into a pretty little sugar coated world. If you have any ideas could you let me in on them? Write to me c/o dreams are fake…..