Happily Ever After? Bullshit!

Hey this is my second story a bit different and I hope you guys like it, 

Enjoy---

 Prologue

Every night it’s the same, you would think that I would get used to it by now, happening every night since 7 months ago, that is. You would be wrong because as I sat in my tiny room emptiness surrounding my every breath my every corner.

 my wardrobe stood in the darkest corner of my room, filled with the same outfit for school, and a few tops and trousers all, two sizes too big on purpose of course because I never really wanted attention I like the fact I was invisible to everyone who didn’t know me which was nearly every one apart from my not-so-great-family.

a desk made of pure mahogany, was before my window, scattered upon it was, several papers, books, pens, everything you would expect on a desk, but on that horrid desk I had my most prised possession, there upon the desk in a whinnie the poo frame, with piglet and whinnie stretching for the pot of honey, at the top of the frame, I felt sorry for them but then again they already had one pot of honey, any way there was a picture in the frame.

A picture, the only one I had, of my father I was happy then, more alive, but my mother had broken my heart since then, it hurt me at first the way she avoided me, ignored I was there, was utterly bitter about how I was a mistake, now I have learnt that I don’t care what people think.

I was hugged tightly by his arms we were dressed in a warm coat, scarves and hats matching each other’s, I remember that day as being the most enjoyable I had had in a long time, I loved autumn, it was my season, my middle name is autumn and I loved it, the leaves and trees so bright before they lose it all to the bitter winter,

My mum was born in winter, my father on the other hand was born in summer, which explained his warmth of course, but that day we went bowling, I was never good at it but it was a lot of fun going with my father, we haad come out of the bowling alley when I had fallen and hit my butt on the lane.

We posed together and I realised I’d never really had a picture of him so I printed it out at my local library, and my father bought the frame, silly really but it means so much to me.

my plain lifeless walls, void of any colour, well, what do you expect I had only just moved in, it concaved more and more each night I slept in my bed, this was the time, when I finally got home, I would lie in my bed every night, writing…

no one asked where I would go after school not like anyone cared really, but I would come home reasonably late, that’s why my old room looked never lived in this new room was no different, funny enough being in a complete different country didn’t change the way I was.

Somehow I’m grateful for that, I promised I wouldn’t forget, but I also promised myself that I would resolve this…

Writing, it a sense it was, but it was more completing what was never told by the great children’s authors, how miss leading the stories are am I right or am I right? Stories of Princes and princesses with soft, shiny blond hair, I mean why blond, what’s wrong with brunette people?