Once there was a lovely little girl who believed, with all her heart, she was a princess. As a ruddy faced toddler she imagined she must have been stolen away from her real parents and the kingdom that would have someday been her own.
Her life was a life of drudgery and unhappy toil in the stony fields belonging to those she was forced to call mother and father.
In those rough and mostly barren fields her life wasted away, year after year, and she gradually began to forget the musings and daydreams of her childhood as the responsibilities of being a woman took up more and more of her hollow life. Those responsibilities took on a most unpleasant character shortly after the death of the stranger she called mother, as the man she called father began to treat her as a woman in ways that she struggled every night to suffer through and each morning to forget.
Life continued in this fashion until one day the man she called father was lowered into the ground as well.
She forgot about her childish musings as life took its toll, until one day she lay dying, crippled and broken from years of painful labor. It was upon her bed, while breathing her final breaths, that she was forced to recall her childhood fantasies when she recognized a familiar twinkle shrouded in the glare within the eyes of her own children; themselves bitter and resentful, finding comfort in daydreams much like her own.
Domus Necrophagous 