• They say that the world will end in 2012, they said it would in 2000. Nobody can truly know until it happens. I believe that. With my past, I've learnt not to get hope set on a certain event. My life wasn't always the wreck it is today, I used to have a charmed life, nothing went wrong. Let me start at the beginning, when I was a child and the world was a better place.
    I grew up in a little town by the coast with my parents, who I shall not name. My father was the typical father everyone should have, funny and tolerant. My mother was a beautiful woman and I'm not just saying that because I want to. She worked as an English teacher and often told me to speak properly. My father was an office worker, I'm not quite sure what for though. He played tricks on me, pulling coins from behind my ears and so on. I remember how excited I was every time he cast that magic spell. The real magic that couldn't be seen or heard by anyone else, the exciting magic of life.
    I was four and loved dolls. A boy in my street had stolen my favourite doll, Gwen. I remember Gwen so vividly... she had bright blue glass eyes and golden nylon curls. Her deep red velvet dress used to fascinate me so much, I wanted to feel it, smell it and see it. The cruel boy took her when I refused to take my parents money so he could buy a new bike. I went straight to my father, of course. He was furious and instantly went to the boys house. With a knock on the door, the boys mother answered. She was in her late thirties, had blonde hair and bore a scary resemblence to Gwen.
    "Yes?" She asked.
    "Your son appears to have taken my daughters doll...I don't suppose she could have it back?" My father was polite with her and she called her son down.
    "Mickey! Did you take this girl's doll?" She fumed.
    "Yah, Ah needad it fer a noo bike." He muttered.
    "I am so sorry," Mickey's mother said, before turning to him, "Go get it!"
    "Mah bike or her doll?" Mikcey asked.
    "What do you think?" Mrs. Mickey thumped him. In moments, Gwen was back in my arms, unharmed. At that point, I thought my dad was amazing. I thanked him so many times. He kept visiting Mrs. Mickey. I was too young to understand.

    "I booked a holiday!" Dad said, striding into the kitchen.
    "Alright." Mum smiled, her head bent over the sink, black hair covering her face.
    "Where to?" I asked, six.
    "Spain." Dad answered blankly. I ran upstairs, knowing what would happen next.
    "Why can't we just stay here? So you can keep f**king that Alison?!" Mum yelled. I hugged Gwen, who was a little more aged than she had been two years beforehand. Alison was Mrs. Mickey, but I didn't know what that strange word meant.
    "How dare you accuse me of such a thing?" Dad shouted back. Gwen's sharp fingers dug into my clenched hands.
    "How dare I?!" Mum raised her voices. That's about the time when Gwen's hand cracked and fell from her china arm. I looked at her for the first time. Hair missing, eyes fake. She wasn't worth fixing. As raised voices pierced my ears, I took myself to my imaginary land. Alison didn't exist there and mum and dad never fought. I spent a whole night inside my head. I heard lowered voices and sympathetic cries. Mum and dad were making up. This happened weekly.
    "****** (name blocked) go to bed!" Mum called up. She had forgotten it was midnight.