Write It Poetry
Write It Home
Chat With Fellow Writers
Publish Your Work
Read Memoir
By Vika S.
age: 14
New Jersey

When I was younger I believed in fairies. I believed in witches, frog princes and talking animals. I believed that if I concentrated hard enough I would be able to fly. Call it naive, but at 6, 7 and 8 years old I would hardly expect anything less. I wanted with all my heart to walk through the back of my closet into a world like Narnia. I thought if I pressed hard enough on the hall mirror I would find my own wonderland.
A month or so before I started Kindergarten I met my best friend. She also happened to be named Victoria which was magic in itself if you ask me. A white, peeling, and crooked picket fence separated our yards and we met on either side of it, she in her black velvet turtleneck and matching hat and me in a pink dress that I had artfully tied, having dressed myself. Our mothers chatted and I boldly told Victoria my name. Apart from sharing a name, we shared the love for all things magical. Her younger twin sisters soon tagged along on all our imaginary adventures. Whether we were climbing Grandmother Willow, a name I borrowed from Pocahontas, or pretending we were witches, we were always together, every summer day.
Anything that aided our quests we used. A box full of fantastic costumes and jewelry was always exciting. Sometimes the jewelry would have powers of invisibility or helped you morph into other people when hiding from the villains. Once we made it into our wonderland, Badland as we called it, our clothes and jewelry would change to make us the ideal heroines, taking on different powers that helped us find our way.
Badland used to be Goodland, until the vampires took over. After pressing a knob on a scrawny tree we were transported there for the first time. A darkness hung over that world like a fog. It was clearly visible to us and we set about saving everyone, until about the end of second grade when we declared Badland purged of all evil. It had become Goodland once more. It was around this time I decide I was too old for Barbie, threw her and all her friends in a box and hid them in my closet, still secretly playing with them from time to time.
Although Victoria and I have stopped playing those games, our friendship remains the same: Strong. I think itís sad that there comes a point when you feel too mature to play games like Badland. But Iím thankful my imagination and love for fairytales have never faded.

Poetry    Essay    Memoir
Short Fiction    Humor     Novel Dramatic Script    Journalism    
Science Fiction/Fantasy