A Fictioneer's World

Poverty  and  Phantasy      She glides lightly across the cobblestone. Chirp, chirp, chirp, goes the blue bird from the old oak tree. She reaches a castle, her home. She gracefully  walks through the doorway. Gold lines the walls and shimmering   diamond   encrusted   chandlers dangle high above her head. The floor is so polished that she can see her reflection. She's beautiful. Decked in a green silk ballgown,  lined with diamonds. Her soft chestnut locks lay perfectly about her, with pearls sprinkled all about. Pleased with herself, she slowly twirls so that the skirt of her dress gently swirls about her and reveals a pair of soft slippers. She looks around. It's perfect. Everything is perfect. Until...     She watches as a drop of water falls to the floor. It ripples out across the shiny surface, until the golden floor fades. She no longer is wearing a silken ballgown,  but a ratty, cotton dress. Instead of the dress being encrusted with diamonds, it is encrusted with mud an