Vision

The little girl closed her eyes as she stepped into her bedroom.  Outstretching her hands, she felt the cold, smooth wood of her dresser in front of her and knew she was facing the mirror.  She took a deep breath and wished as hard as she could.  She hoped that today would be the day she transformed.  Every night, she dreamed that she would become a princess.  Everyone knew princesses were beautiful. Long, silky blond hair, tumbling in waves down their backs.  Big, sparkly blue eyes.  Small upturned noses and cherry lips.  Ivory skin.

Please. Please. Please. Please.  She whispered inside.

She opened her eyes, and her stomach fell.  Nothing had changed.  Her skin was dark brown, her hair thick with dark, rough kinky curls.  Her nose broad and unwieldy.  Ugly.  There was no need to look anymore, or wish.  She wasn’t a princess.  That was the day she threw the blanket over the mirror.

Years later, she removed the blanket.  Her breath caught.  She was changed. A princess at last.  It wasn’t her face or her skin or even her hair that was different.  It was her vision that had transformed.

For Story a Day and The Daily Post