I wrote a book.

A book of little fantasies. Or more like, stories that I have dreamed of. I dreamt of this weird but beautiful story once. I wrote it down on a page in a notebook I liked to call 'My Magic Fantasy Book' all because I thought that if there was going to be one day which my dreams would come true, the stories in this book would come alive first. I didn't actually name the notebook though, I bought it when I was twelve years old – I'm seventeen now – I actually wondered if the stories would come true. I only wrote one dream down, it was the most recent one. I thought it was special because I managed to remember the whole dream – until I got woken up by a splash of water – Others, I would remember half and that was why they were never in my “special magic book”.

I knew that the book was just to cheat little kids' money because no fictional story would ever come true but I was proven wrong. Very wrong indeed.