I Used To Believe...

• Shalayne Smith, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2016

I used to believe that one day I would be taken to another world, another realm entirely. I would build my own empire. Fantastical creatures would live there, ones known to me only through fairy-tales. Castles built skyward out of precious stone and turrets that pricked the sky with their elegance. The flag would be raised; any who saw it would know that it bears my name. My own army would be loyal to me, serving me with pride, protecting me with vigor, not daring to stop until I was unassailable. To them, I would be their beloved Queen, and with them, we would share compassion and respect towards each other. As the Empire’s ruler, my citizens are my priority and I would value them above all else. My land would be beautiful and serene; I would try with all my might to uphold this and devote my life to my kingdom. The oceans surrounding the coast of the land would be a brilliant sparkling marine blue, the prettiest sea that anyone had ever laid eyes on. The land would contain lush green plains and the forests would be plentiful with life and magic that only the citizens could truly appreciate. My Empire would be bountiful with energy and spirit. The villages would bustle with activity and the animals would roam the wild, providing a balanced and beautiful ecosystem. Marvelous festivals would be held often, to appreciate not a single thing, but everything. The food would be exquisite and the decorated towns would be splendid and enticing, but nothing could be more appreciated than the laughter rising up from the joyous residents of my Empire. Seeing this union that I had built would bring tears to my eyes. I had watched this small domain grow each day and marveled at its fruitfulness. Oh, how it was like watching your precious child go through all stages of life. Every day you will stop and look at them, amazed at how fast they had grown and how they continue to grow. I would watch over the land every day until my hair turns grey, my face grows wrinkled, and no more can I look and see my Empire that I had built through blood sweat and tears when I turn to dust. I had spent my life from the moment I had arrived to building up the unity and I had devoted my all. Though I was gone, my people would celebrate each anniversary of my life by claiming my work as sovereignty and that all that had happened be owed to me. They would weep and through their tears, bless that I may rest in peace and watch over them from above. Now I am old, grey and wrinkled. I am not the ruler of such land. I have no reign over such people. But it was never wrong to dream. This is what I believe now, and my dream is what I used to believe.