"Write something to suit yourself and many people will like it; write something to suit everybody and scarcely anyone will care for it."- Jesse Stuart
Disclaimer: I don't own Instant Star, mkay?
The day had finally come; the day was hers. For so long she had dreamt of this wondrous moment. Ever since she was a small child, she could reminisce the many times she had raided her mothers closet or stolen a gracious portion of her older sisters make up. Each time it was a secret. She remembered stuffing her mothers satin evening gown underneath her bed and pronouncing that it was not her doing. The dog must have dragged it joyfully off of its hanger and planted it there out of revenge.
But today was different. Today she hadn't a need to lie or drag on as of she didn't feel beautiful or blame her faults on something or someone else. Today, she was a princess. She would remain locked in her fairytale reservoirs 'til her White silk tattered and fell.
Her fiancé suited the very need of which her desires feasted upon. He was charming and handsome. And he absolutely adored his wife to be. He was everything and more. She stood in front of her full body mirror, pondering of him. Reputation was such a harsh word. Surely he had disposed of his by now. He had promised. She ran a hand across her smooth, flat stomach and glanced through the glass at the dress that await her.
The flash seemed so feigned. It was as if the mind was playing tricks. That a small being wasn't growing inside and the skin was merely a distraction of the truth. Whatever it may be, it intoxicated her every sense. She was thrilled to be carrying a piece of such a wonderful man whom she loved. If possible, she would have lied down and died from pure ecstasy.
An infant such as hers was the one thing that brought sadness to her eyes just the same as joy. This wasn't part of the plan. She wasn't supposed to be like this.
"Jude!" a loud pound on the door ruptured her thoughts. "He's waiting." Her hand ceased its prodding and left her abdomen. Hot, fresh tears were magically cascading down her cheeks in ripples she hadn't noticed had formed. "Um--yeah…" her voice cracked. It was going to be enchanting. "I'm coming."
Every story has a beginning, middle, and end. They all contain a climax and conclusion. It's simply factual. That is what makes fairytales so different; so much more miraculous. Dragons, witches, pixies--they all harbor something great. Happy endings are for those who deserve and believe that anything is possible. But then again, who said anything was possible?