The Sugar Quill
Author: OBHWF Girl  Story: The Wishing Star  Chapter: Chapter 2: Lost Childhood Fantasies
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A Wishing Star

By Olivia Frost

Chapter 2: Lost Childhood Fantasies



I turn off the lamp next to my bed and set my storybook on the bedside table for the night. I must have read this book a hundred times, but I still love it. The glorious moonlight shines into my room, casting a silvery, eerie glow. A silhouette of the graceful arch of the curtains and window creeps into my bed and covers me with its beauty. I sigh with content.


Another day gone and tomorrow will be a wonderful new start, because tomorrow is the beginning of summer holiday. I canít be more excited. Perhaps my family will go to Sweden or Spain this summer! We often summer in foreign countries and I wouldnít spend my holidays any other way. I love going to faraway places and learning more about them. I have helped excavate the ruins of Greece, climbed the steps of the Eiffel Tower, swum in the Mediterranean, skied the Alps, toured the Irish countryside, tossed a coin into the Trevi Fountain, and walked beside the Berlin Wall.


But itís not enough. I want the words the great philosophers of Greece canít say. I want the building Alexandre-Gustave Eiffel canít design. I want the wave the Mediterranean canít create. I want the mountain the snow canít cover. I want the luscious, green field the Earth doesnít possess. I want the wish no fountain can grant. I want the wall one hundred million men canít break.


I want something nobody can give.


Well, all but one.


But how do I ask for the wisest saying, the grandest monument, the largest wave, the whitest mountain, the greenest field, the most powerful fountain, or the strongest wall if it doesnít exist?


How do I know what future has in store for me if it canít reply? How do I know what life holds for me? How do I search for that saying or that wall? How do I know what I want? How do I trust a stranger? Especially if they decide my whole being? How do I know when Iíve found that person?


I want what a book Ė Britain Ė Europe Ė Earth canít give or teach!


I want to know acceptance. I want to know trust. I want to know unconditional friendship. I want more than a mum and dad. I want to know love.


A pure unconditional love that is as strong as the bond between two sisters; a love that is gained Ė not automatically given.


Tears well up in my eyes. I have to stop this nonsense! I canít always dwell on a dream thatíll never come - Iím just being silly. Iím acting just like those girls in my tales.


I feel too warm so I get out of bed and gently seize the old book on my bedside table. I tiptoe to the window. And making sure Mum and Dad wonít hear, I slowly open the window and crawl through with my book in my hand.


The small balcony outside my window is lovely, especially when I fancy being alone with the warm wind fluttering past my body and weaving through my hair. I breathe deeply, taking in all the warmth and scents of the summer night. It smells like mumís tulips and begonias. I sit along the iron railing and open my storybook.


It isnít fair. Why are the girls in these stories always so beautiful? Why do they look so loved and happy? It should be against the law for someone to be that perfect.


I feel the tears come again; they fall on the picture of Snow White dancing with the dwarves. Oh, what I would give for that! If I could live like that, for just one day, what would I do?


If I had a sister or just a best friend, we would talk all night. So much that our mums would scold us and send us to bed. We would go to the park and sit in the sunshine. At breakfast, we would argue over the last piece of toast. She would attack me and tickle me to death, and as immature as it sounds, it would be wonderful. She would try to make me wear make-up and girly clothes and I would, just to please her. We would read stories of magnificent castles, dangerous sea storms, and beautiful princes and princesses then imagine if we were there Ė creating the most outrageous stories. The best part would be her Ė a friend.


I lightly graze my hand across the faces of the contented lovers as if they will disappear from the page and I might never again gaze upon their wonderful lines. I fear the stories and illustrations leaving not just the book, but also my heart. That they will not be there and the stories and dreams I grew up with will be gone. I donít want to lose the closest thing I have to real friendship.


Stop it! Just stop it, Hermione Granger! Stop with these silly hopes. How can I really believe that one day a messenger will come galloping in to take me to a place where Iíll be loved? Nobody has ever really wanted to know me, so how can I really believe that anyone would ever want to befriend me! Iím Hermione Granger! Iím not at all gentle-hearted, I canít sing, Iím not gorgeous, and Iím not sickeningly optimistic. Iím the strange bookworm nobody likes; the only friends I have in the world are these books and my parents. I donít have anyone that cares for me unconditionally. I donít have anyone I can confide in. I donít want this any more - I donít want to be strange, I donít want to have a small family. I donít want these childish dreams and aspirations - I want the real thing! I want happiness and friendship.


I want my life to be a brilliant story. I want friends who will love me because they choose to love me. I want people to see me for who I am, and look past my shy exterior. I want it all so badly I could scream so the whole world knows. I want to be accepted. Why canít I just be like the perfect girls in these AWFUL books?


Why am I the lonely one?


No, no, I canít do that. I canít keep going along wishing for something that will never come! This is my life, so why canít I just admit it?


My head falls and I weep into my arms. Itís my own fault Iím so lonely. If I were not bookish or bigheaded - if I was normal at all Iíd have friends! If I were a normal girl, I wouldnít do strange things. If I was normal, I could settle for less than perfect. But Iím not a normal girl. I never have been and I never will be.


My classmates think Iím strange. They donít like me. They think Iím a snob because I never talk to them - Iím not like that! Iím just shy! If they talk to me, Iíll talk back. But that is just wishful thinking; nobody ever talks to me unless they need help with their homework. My classmates use me. The only people whoíve ever been my ďfriendsĒ only wanted to copy my homework. Nobodyís ever tried to be my friend because of me.


Me. Yes, me! Iím boring. Iím dull. Iím bossy. Iím a know-it-all snob. Iím abnormal. Iím a freak.


I spend all my time reading. I always know the answers in class. I always boss people around. I do strange things. Iíve made things float, Iíve turned a boyís skin purple, Iíve made things explode and disappear! Iím a freak and nobody wants anything to do with me. Why would they? Iíd probably blow them up.


The worst part is Iím better than they are.


Or, at least, thatís how they think I act.


I flip to another part in my book. No matter what I do, I canít give it up. My dreams are all I have.


I look down at the picture. The ugly duckling sits in the brush, crying to himself. I always loved this story, because this little duckling was always like me. Different from everyone else and broken by the cruel world.


My eyes are hot again. But everything turned out all right for him. He found his family and transformed into a beautiful creature. What about me? Am I going to transform into something more? Or will I stay as I am forever? Has Fate (not that I believe in such a thing) decided to shut away my desire for happiness? Is this what I am? Lonely and lost without a hope in the world? Or will I be a beautiful swan, worshiped for my grace?


No. I must stop this! I wonít let ridiculous fairytale fantasies take over my life! I wonít let it go on any longer! I hate it! I hate waiting for something that will never come! Without my dreams, Iíll have contentment. Iíll have acceptance Ė the thing Iíve longed so much for Ė within myself. I can love myself again and appreciate everything I have.


I have a wonderful family. Weíre well off enough and we hardly ever fight. I earn good marks, Iím smart, and Iíll do whatever I want when Iím an adult. I have a nice house with nice things, and Iím certainly loved by my parents and I have them all to myself! It could be so much worse - why expect more blessings when I already have so many?


I gaze up at the sky and see a twinkling star, just like in the old stories. Ridiculous stars with their mystic powers of hope and wish-granting - it is an awful lie and I vow to forget it. All of it. Every story, every lesson, every wish, every picture, every word, every feeling Iíve ever had - I want it all to leave. I want it to leave forever.


My eyes shut from fatigue and the last teardrop falls on the graceful neck of the white swan. My desire for acceptance and friendship is gone forever.


My dreams will never come true.


I banish them from my mind, into a silly childhood storybook.




Thank you to all my reviewers for so much praise and amazing feedback, you really are wonderful. I tried to make this chapter more Ė er, intelligent sounding than the first because even at ten, Hermioneís an intelligent girl.


The song that inspired this fic is ďBe Like ThatĒ from 3 Doors Down. The tone of the song is more the first chapter, but Hermione is very different from Ron, so I did different tones for both chapters.


Thank you to my betas, Eleena Thea, Liberty, and Gwynne. You all are so amazing!


Olivia Frost




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