Once upon a time, and far, far away, there was a young girl.
She lived in an ordinary house, in an ordinary road, with ordinary parents. Really, there was only one reason why you would look twice at her, and that was because she was at that extraordinary moment of beauty when a girl turns into a woman.
She had long hair that floated in the wind and eyes that were dark bottomless pools of courage, curiosity, and wisdom.

Once upon a time there was a girl. A girl who grew to love to work out. Seriously, she got up every morning, pulled on the laid out exercise clothes, and woke her foggy brain with the early morning air. She jogged no matter the weather.

I can feel The Girl inside me. Walking out of the house yesterday……. It was like that old Me, The Girl, reached out and touched me. It was a re-kindling in my inner self. The old feelings of owning exercise, of enjoying that work out time period, it all flooded my self and I breathed deeply the nostalgic thoughts.

She was captivated by words and the way the stories would dance around in her head, begging to be told.

She was a lonely child, and words were her best friends. She wanted to write books, articles and short stories.

But she was scared.
She used to ask herself “Why I Write?”
Because I don’t know why I write. I really don’t. At least, I don’t know why I started. I have no entertaining stories, no particular moments in my childhood that upon reflection are clear signposts that lead the way to being a journalist. I always liked papers and all kind of pens and pencils, but this is not a reason to become a writer.

Where was I going with all this history? I guess trying to get to the sweet spot where I could tell you that I had a dream a few nights ago. I don’t remember the dream but I still remember another dream I had when I was a little girl.
That dream made me feel that I’m not like other girls.

Most little girls dreamt of being a Princess. I read stories. Lots and lots of stories. All about princesses, usually who lived in castles, who were kidnapped by “bad guys” or “yucky animals” or dragons, and put in either a net or a cage until they were rescued by the prince, whom they subsequently married, and lived happily ever after.

And when I tried to write a story to represent me as a princess whom yearned for love, the princess kissed the frog but instead of him becoming a prince like in the fairy tale, she became a frog!
So I stopped believing that I’m a princess living a fairy tale.

But I also remember that when I was a very little girl I dreamt of being a Vampire.
Not a normal vampire, but a person that turns into a vampire on certain nights…more like a werewolf, but a vampire.

Don’t look so surprised!!

Vampires, for most people, represent powerful and evil creatures, but I was never evil in my life though I used to have a terrible fight going on inside me, which perhaps goes on inside everyone. It’s a fight between two wolves – one is evil and represents arrogance, hate, anger, intolerance, and superiority. The other is good and represents humility, kindness, generosity, and compassion.

Which of the two wolves will eventually win? It depends on us
Definitely, the wolf that I am feeding will win this terrible fight.

Once upon time in far far away country………
No this is another story.