I want to be a princess. Like Cinderella. I want to have a crown, a fluffy dress, everything. Mommy says it’s too perplexing, but I find it enchanting. “A five year old should not be thinking about having a silly career like being a princess! Are you delusional?” Mommy says to me all the time. She’s pretty strict, but she is just looking out for me. I think.


It was Sunday afternoon, after church. I still had my white lace dress on. I trotted and tripped up the slippery Mahogany stairs into my bedroom, my castle. My throne awaited in the corner of my pink castle. I jumped on it for several minutes until my equilibrium was thrown off. I hopped off the throne and landed on my feet, which still had my heels on, so they obviously snapped. I tossed them into the dungeon. I hummed a peaceful melody as I reached inside my Easy Bake oven for Mommy’s tea from breakfast. It was blackberry, Mommy’s favorite. I skipped to the dining table where my servants awaited to be served their only drink for the year. Mr. Fluffy got his beverage first, then Brownie, and then Teddy.




Mommy yelled from downstairs, “Bethany! What did you do with your church clothes?” Her deep voice startled me so I spilled Teddy’s tea on my dress. I knew Mommy would be mad. I tried to take it off, but it was too late. She stood in my doorway, the doorway between reality and fantasy. This was my reality. “Is that a stain I see?” she said in a slow, demonic voice. “It was an accident Mommy! I pwomice!” She walked closer and closer until her chest was directly in front of my nose.


My blood also stained my dress that day. Mommy said I didn’t respect her and my expensive things. She said that the tea incident was the last straw. She was right because, well, she’s Mommy! She threw her fists at me with rage and disgust until God entered my reality. He said my princess duties were needed in heaven, not h*ll.