Sunsets and Fairytales: Guest post by Annabelle Greyson

I used to watch the sun set over the mountains from the window of my dad's bedroom. It was the only room that had a window that faced the mountains. I knew he would explode if he found me there, but I couldn't help the hope that rose up in me when I watched the colors undulate across the ridge. I'd watch until that last piece of sun sunk behind the stones on top of the mountains. It was magical. I wondered if somewhere out in that vast expanse of forest and rocks, was a prince charming out there who would save me. I'd go over in my mind what princess I'd be. It grounded me to repeat the procedure in my mind. It was something familiar. 

Sleeping Beauty was surrounded by a brier of thorns to keep out of evil. What would I have given for that kind of protection. 

Snow White was kind to everyone. I'd never been given the chance to be kind to everyone. No one was ever kind to me. Dad told me I was disobedient and in my mind that was the opposite of kind, so that discounted Snow White. 

Cinderella's father died. As cruel and gruesome as it sounded, I used to wish I had that kind of luck. 

Belle's father loved her. And she loved him. The only similarity was the dead mother. I used to fantasize that maybe I could be Belle, since our names are similar. Annabelle and Belle. It made sense. But all too soon, I realized that my life was nothing like Belle's. Plus, she was beautiful, and all I heard every day was that I was ugly. 

I wished I had the courage to be the mermaid who ran away from her father and found the love of her life. She was who I aspired to, but never really thought I'd become. 

Rapunzel was the one I finally settled on every time. Because Rapunzel was trapped. Because Rapunzel had no way out of her life. And maybe someday I would get my wish. Maybe someday a prince would come and fall in love with me and rescue me. 

Sometimes I still do that, watch the mountains, while I'm too sick to move. I pull the hope out of that sight, even if I don't know where that hope comes from. I repeat the procedure in my mind. In some ways I still am trapped, but someone once told me to focus on the future and not dwell on the fact that I can't walk and that my Lyme keeps me from doing most things. I think of things I'm thankful for: 

- inspiration to write

- Brenden - my prince :) 

- my mom

- church - even if I don't believe in God yet, that place always gives me peace when my anxiety gets the better of me. 

- blogging

- fairy tales

I make the list longer and longer and push out the things that make me panic. It's going to be okay. 

 Brenden gave me a plaques saying this for Christmas one year and I hold onto it... Never too late.

This life would kill me if I didn't have you. Couldn't live without you, baby. Wouldn't want to.                                                                                                                                                                                        If I didn't have You by: Thompson Square

~ Annabelle Greyson

Note: These ideas are copyrighted to Hannah De. Thanks!

Guest Post from Annabelle Grayson

Once upon a time there was a little girl named Annabelle. She was born out of wedlock and although her parents stayed together for the first few years of her life, she always had a sense of not belonging. Like she wasn't supposed to be on this earth. It didn't help that her parents fought constantly. Over her father's drinking problem. Over the fact that her mother was attending college, even though both of them knew they didn't have the money. Over Annabelle - what school she'd go to when she was old enough, what she should be when she grew up, who would get her when her mother finally made good on her threat and left. And it wasn't as if both of them wanted her. Neither of them wanted the burden of a five-year-old girl as they continued on with their respective lives.

Her mother finally left, leaving Annabelle with an angry, alcoholic father. Although he had never expressed violence, the anger of his girlfriend leaving him pushed him into worse and he began to beat her. Sometimes it would be days between beatings, and other times he would hit her twice in a day. There would be days he hit her so hard she threw up. There would be days she had to call someone to take her to the hospital because he broke something inside her. There would be days when she didn't think she was going to make it.

She began to panic. Every time she thought of him, her heart rate would speed, the room would close and she would begin to cry. Every time he opened the door and slurred her name. Every time someone asked her about her family. She didn't dare tell anyone what was happening. She didn't want to discover what he would do to her if she turned him in.

It was a teacher who gave her the idea. She made an offhand comment of how stories helped some people process life. And Annabelle wondered if that would change the panic attacks she kept having. Her only real example of stories was a collection of old fairy tales her mother had left, so she began to make up her own, making herself the princess, her problems the dragons and her life an enchanted fairy-world where she could invent princes and fairy-godmothers to save her from whatever means she invented.

She made her princess-self the opposite of the names her father called her, names she knew were true. The princess wasn't worthless or ugly or a coward. She was a beautiful, brave girl who could do whatever she put her mind to.

And it worked. She stopped panicking. Her problems were manageable.

She was nine before anything happened. Her rescue came in the form of her new neighbor, a middle-aged man, who was the first one to care about the screaming and shouting he heard from the run-down apartment. He pulled Annabelle aside on her way to school and asked her if everything was okay at home. Annabelle hesitated, remembering the way her father threatened her on the subject of getting help. He would never need to know it was her though. There wasn't any way he could hurt her if he was arrested. So she told the man and whispered for him to please call the police, but to not breathe a word about getting the information from her.

She was pulled out of school early by two police officers and her father was arrested that afternoon. But right before he was shoved into the police car he gave her a look that said that he wasn't done with her and that he would get her back no matter what. The authorities found her mother and Annabelle moved in with her.

So, this part of my story really isn't worth telling, but the author of my story wanted me to write a post concerning my backstory. And don't worry. There's more. And there's hope in the end. It wasn't easy writing this. That's why it's in fairy tale format. It's still the only way I can handle things. Even now, seven years after his arrest. Sorry about that. Feel free to comment.

~Annabelle Greyson

Author's note: All the ideas here are copyrighted to Hannah De

The Hidden Side of Minors

I never knew there was so much of a story behind Adam. He was sort of a flat-ish, side character who was sort of there for moral support for my main character. He never talked to me. He was supposed to be the love interest which never really ended up working...

But then I asked him to tell his testimony to Ray, who's being seriously stubborn about God. And the floodgates opened. I got nearly 400 words of his testimony. The things you learn by asking...