I was the ugly duckling of the family.

I was! The written rule for an ugly duckling (or at least my family's written rule) was that people with different than the norm color hair and a lack of tallness equaled the qualification of being an ugly duckling.

Which meant I was ignored and the other children were showered with love, attention, etc.

Hey, at least I was fed, I mean I could've starved and died and you wouldn't be reading this story now would you?

Anyway.

My parents were at the top of the food chain right below the royalty of our country. They always got invited to the nicest social get-togethers and they always brought at least one child a long to show them off.

Never me of course.

They'd take either my older sister Penelope or my older brother Patrick (which is how they found spouses and got married so quickly and are now living comfortably as rich brats)

Oh, my name is Molly.

Thought my parents would go on a role and name their last kid a P name too eh? Another thing in the ugly duckling handbook: They cant be named anything similar to their pretty siblings.

I know, why didn't I run away? Why did I deal with people treating me like crap every day?

Three things: Food, shelter, and no chance of getting sexual diseases.

And I had servant friends at my house. Three of the younger maids loved me to death and were always keeping me happy.

Angela, Lois, and Margaret. I've known them since childhood, they're more like my siblings than my actual siblings.

Its very surprising my parents kept them on. Maybe they did have some sort of heart.

Yeah I doubt it too. I think they were kept because of the work load they could do and not how they treated me.

Although I'm sure if my parents knew they were my friends they'd be out of the house like that.

Why am I the ugly duckling?

Well it was no one's fault. My genes just came together and gave me bright, curly red hair.

Thanks genes. Thanks a lot.

There are no other people in the land with hair anything close to mine, or so I was told.

And the shortness too is a mystery. Everyone around me is at least six feet tall, and I'm pushing 5'1.

Not that I'm complaining. Why complain about something you can't change?

Back to the story.

So one day dad calls me into his office. (Our house is three stories, half made of stone and half of wood. There's a kitchen, two offices, a big library, a dining room, a bathroom, my room, and servants quarters).

He rarely acknowledges me, so to be called into his office was pretty cool.

"Hi dad!" I said, plopping into the chair across from him.

He looked at me. "I've found you a suitor. I was surprised myself that someone wanted the ugly duckling, but its true. He even offered money for your hand in marriage, which I gladly took. You'll be leaving the house tomorrow with one bag of your things. That's all."

I sat there, mouth hanging open.

"Go." He said.

I made my numb legs get up and walk out of the room.

Marriage!

And I was paid for? Like I was a slave?

I didn't know what to think. Running away was not an option, what would I do for food that didn't consist of selling my body?

Maybe the husband would be nice. Maybe he would appreciate me.

I decided since this household didn't want an ugly duckling, then maybe my husband would.

I feel asleep praying I was right.


In the morn I got up quickly and shoved everything I could into a traveling bag. Dresses, under clothes, coats, it didn't matter, somehow I shoved my entire closet into the bag though. (And there wasn't a lot in my closet anyway)

I dressed in my simplest gown and walked downstairs with the bag. Angie, Lois, and Marge all gave me hugs and told me to write them as much as I could.

They'd be the only things I'd miss from the house.

I got into the carriage that was waiting outside our door. It was definitely not one of our carriages; it looked more expensive than one of dad's!

The outside was painted white with gold trimmings. And it was also covered in mud.

Eh, I wasn't wearing a fancy shmancy dress anyway, who cared if there was mud.

The inside had green velvet covered seats, which was really nice. I took my shoes off and wiggled my toes in the carpet before falling asleep on the seat.

Well, I had thought I was alone when I got in.

I saw no one, but when I woke up something was brushing my hair out of my face.

And there was nothing there!

I whacked at the object, only to realize I was not on the seat anymore.

Apparently someone (or thing) had put my head in their lap. I could feel a hand lightly holding onto my right arm.

I opened my mouth to scream, only to realize it was covered by a hand.

"Shh, its ok. It's just your husband."

What in god's name?

I couldn't see anything there, but I could feel him (it sounded like a him).

Weird.

He allowed me to sit up. I scrutinized the seat next to me before extending a hand out. I felt him take it and kiss it.

"How are you there? I cant see anything." I asked.

"Magic." He replied.

"Then how'd you contact my father?"

"By writing."

Okay…

"So I'm married to an invisible person?"

I felt him wrap an arm around my shoulders.

"Oh trust me, I'm human. Go back to sleep, you look tired."

But I wasn't tired, I got a full nights sleep last night! Carriages just make me doze off with the swaying and nothing to look at.

"What's your name then?" I asked.

"Vincent." He answered.

"And where are we headed?"

"To our home."

I felt him kiss my cheek.

"What was that for?"

(I know I ask too many questions, but wouldn't you?)

"Because I can." He replied.

Well now I couldn't sleep. I was so confused that I just stared at the cushion across from me, head on my supposed husbands shoulder and waiting for the day to get any weirder.