Pixie's Space

A girl is holding a mirror primping. The two reflections are standing behind her. Girl says while posing: Mirror mirror on the wall who’s the fairest of them all? Reflection 2 responds: Certainly not you… Reflection steps away from the ‘mirror’ and is joined by second ‘reflection’ both circles the girl, looking her over in an evaluating way. Reflect 1: You’re too thin, do you think anyone wants a bag of bones? Reflect 2: You’re too fat, you need to lose weight, look how gross you are… Girl continues to look in the mirror, now evaluating her body size and type, before shaking her head in disgust: I’m beautiful just the way I am. Girl says it, but her face is doubtful as the two reflections continue to circle around her, pointing out  contradictory‘‘flaws’ Reflect 1: You’re too tall Reflect 2: You’re too short Girl holds two outfits up in front of her, one casual, one more formal Reflect 1: You’ll look like a boy Reflect 2: You’ll look too high maintenance in t

The Chaos maker sits above, pointing his finger at his minions, commanding them to distract me, to change my path. Down they fly from all directions. The first demon reaches me and watches waiting until he see's what to destroy, then it strikes, his blow is searing and painful crippling my health and confidence. In constant pain, I battle him, ever aware of the gray monster that looms, just waiting for me to slip. Unable to beat him I resign myself to carrying him on my back, so with chains of iron I tie him to myself and trudge forward down my narrow path, stopping often for rest. I only get a few steps before another demon drops, he's an old friend, we know each other well. He's beautiful, and he pulls at me with his sweet words and pleasurable effects. I hesitate, trying to ignore him, but he whispers in my ear, making me shudder, but I find I don't want to resist...why should I? So I take the delicate chains of gold he holds out to me and wrap th

Some women wish for a white knight to ride in upon his valiant steed and sweep them off their feet.To Rescue them from the clutches of the dragons breath and claw.To bathe them in riches and silks. But I know a secret about those pristine knights. A secret well kept and well guarded. A white knight's heart is full of greed and the need for power, their souls rusted and full of cobwebs while their pockets are heavy with gold. There's no room to care for the weeping women. A fearsome secret this is indeed. But I know of a dark knight, a rogue of the midnight sky, sweeping down from the heavens on a dragon who would never be allowed into the place called Dreamland. He comes not to vanquish the white knights but to swoop down and steal the enchantress. For this knight too has a secret well kept,and well guarded. Beneath his nightmarish appearance lays a heart of gold. His only desire, to earn the trust of the lady. He hides it well by chasing her through dreamland and tr

How does one cope with learning that your entire life was a lie? Why by not coping with it of course. And not coping with it was exactly what the Scot named Maon Kincaid...excuse me, Emilian Maon DeRazia-Morel, Romani gypsy, was doing. And how exactly does a Scot, no wait, an Irish Gypsy who thought he was a Scot, not cope with such a revelation? He breaks things of course, and right this second the dark haired man was breaking a chair over some poor drunk's head. The impact rattled Maon's bones and he growled as he tossed the broken pieces of the bar chair to the floor and shook his arms, grimacing as the sting remained in his muscles. He didn't have time to dwell on that as a moment before it was supposed to connect, Maon's sharp green eyes caught sight of the meaty fist that was headed right for his (thus far) unbroken nose. He reflexively bent his body to the left causing the blow to hit him in the shoulder, the punch had enough strength behind it that

Silence is her worst enemy when everything is silent she has time to think, and thinking is dangerous for one whose life has been turned upside down. As she sits on the couch and listens to everyone sleep, her mind wonders in unseen directions, and then the tears start as they always do on silent nights. Tears of pain and sorrow, guilt and regret, hate and love. She wonders if she cant even love herself how is anyone else to love her? She regrets having that last bite; she regrets that thanksgiving when she was nine. Her stomach aches from the guilt of being a pig, of being selfish and eating the last cookie. She feels the pain in her heart every time someone looks at her in disgust, and disdain. People tell her they understand, but how can they? None that has talked to her knows what it is like to be overweight, none know that hours she has cried because she is ignored. No one knows how many times she has called herself a coward for not being able to pull the trigger. Sh