“You have no power over me!”

Sarah’s shoes slapped against the hard stone of the small-scale bridge built overtop the ending of a gorgeous lake that stretched out for miles long. Snow white geese were lounging about in the crystal clear waters, bathing their ravish unpigmented feathers, although they looked clean and untouched.

She hurried off, dashing over to an open spot in the center of a wide, green-filled valley. She stopped dead in her tracks, gazing over the valley, Sarah’s young green eyes big and blazing with determination. The trees shook and thrashed with the wind, dancing to the rhythm of the air.

“Give me the child.” She demanded, holding her stare at the nearly empty valley, slowly striding, the dew covered grass wetting her feet through her shoes.

“Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered…” her pastel turquoise dress flowed with each step, making her appear to have jumped out of a fairy tale. The sleeves of the dress were open wide, angelic as they swayed in the wind. Her walnut brown hair had been tied up and out of her porcelain-skinned face, in a bun that had a flower crown placed atop.

“… I have fought my way to the castle beyond the Goblin City...” Sarah gestured to the invisible city she mentioned, furious but still as calm as night “… to take back the child that you have stolen.”

An owl had been silently watching her performance, multi-coloured with brown and black spread throughout the back. White had coated the breast and face of the creature, leaving only a small, apricot-coloured beak, with two, beady little eyes on either side.

“For my will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom is as great.”

The clouds rumbled, almost threatening Sarah to leave. She glanced upwards, breaking character to realize the clouds were turning grey.

The clouds, however, were the least of her problems.

“… for my will is as strong as yours, my kingdom as great.” She recited, as if someone hadn’t heard her the first time. Sarah zoned out, trying to find the words she had hidden somewhere in that head of hers.

She gave up, withdrawing the book from within one of her sleeves. “Damn. I can never remember that line.” Sarah grumbled, opening her book to a page, reading her line that she had forgotten time and time again.

“You have no power over me!” Sarah exasperatedly sighed, tired of having to check for her line.

The sky gave her a second warning, booming ferociously. A tiny yap was heard from her dog, Merlin, a plump little grey sheepdog, sitting on a small bench as though he were a person himself.

“Oh, Merlin.” Sarah whined, facing him with an impatient look for acting a coward.

The sound of dinging could be heard from across town. Her body spun, trying to find the source of the noise. The town tower clock had chimed, as it did every hour, screaming to everyone that an hour had, in fact, passed. “Seven! Seven! Seven!” The clock sang.

“Oh no, Merlin!” she huffed, her voice aquiver “I don’t believe it, it’s seven o’clock!” She picked up the pace, running in the other direction while shouting demands at her dog “Come on, come on!”

Her dog obeyed, leaping off the bench with great speed and sprinting behind her on all fours. The owl stood atop the stone statue, watching the closing of the performance he had viewed in his front row seat.

And, as the clouds had warned Sarah, rain began to fall from the heavens.

Sarah and her furry companion dashed through the streets, the falling rain soaking both to the bone. Her surroundings were a complete blur to her, her eyes transfixed on the ground as she so dearly focused on balancing herself. Sarah was thankful for the momentary shelter that came when she ran under the awnings of the stores and restaurants of her town. Merlin had no trouble with the run; he quite enjoyed the exercise. You couldn’t say the same for Sarah. She knew she couldn’t stop, though; she didn’t have enough time. She became more and more familiar with the streets as she speeded along, closing in on the location of her house.

She cut through a few houses to make the trip shorter, the skies darkening quicker than she could run.

Sarah’s house was a large one; it would make even the most wealthy men and women of the country jealous. It was eggshell, in colour, white wooden pillars keeping the house up. Sarah loved growing up there, but ever since her mother left, the home she knew was gone. The only thing that stood was a house.

She sprinted the last stretch to her house, huffing and puffing her lungs out whilst she reached the front steps, considerably slowing her pace when she saw her stepmother, Irene, arms crossed in an irritated fashion. “Oh, it’s not fair!” Sarah whined.

“Oh, really?” Irene questioned, not bothering to take the condescending tone from her voice.

“I’m sorry.” Sarah apologized, purposefully giving distance between her stepmother and herself, stepping back before the steps, drenched with water.

Irene was a cold woman. She looked the type; short blonde hair, makeup that was too pronounced on her oval face. She stood at a little over five feet eight inches, making Sarah feel as if she was constantly looked down upon by her. She had plenty of negative opinions formed around Irene, but tried to keep them under wraps, for the sake of her father.

“Don’t stand in the rain,” she scoffed, Sarah grimacing at the manner she chose to deliver her words “come on!”

“All right. Come on, Merlin. Come on.” Sarah muttered to her pal.

Irene eyed the dog, her mouth twisting down into a disgusted frown at the wet little creature, making her gurn. “Not the dog!”

Sarah didn’t believe what she heard. Or, at least, she didn’t want to. “But it’s pouring!” she asserted, her heart aching to let her puppy into the warm, dry house.

Irene ignored Sarah completely.

“Go on, into the garage!” Irene ordered. Merlin had no response to this, other than shaking his fur, unsuccessfully attempting to dry it.

“Go on, Merlin. Go into the garage. Go!” She more-so pleaded than demanded, eyebrows down turned, upset.

The dog finally let up, but not without whimpering in defeat. Sarah hoped he knew this wasn’t her doing; and she would more than love to bring him inside, that she wasn’t the one in control. She really, truly hoped he understood that.

She felt a storm. Not just the one happening outside, but one sitting deep inside her. She groaned in frustration, making a note to stomp inside her house, getting her anger across to every resident.

“Sarah, you’re an hour late.” The older lady snapped. “I said I’m sorry!” The younger one snapped back. “Please let me finish!”

Sarah stopped, allowing Irene to finish her piece. “Your father and I go out rarely-” Sarah quickly changed her mind about letting her speak, “You go out every single weekend!” She looked up the long white staircase that led to the second floor, wishing her father would appear to, hopefully, back her up.

“I ask you to babysit only if it won’t interfere with your plans.”

Sarah couldn’t stand when she was spoken down to; by her stepmother no less. She wasn’t Sarah’s mother, who was she to try to lecture her?

“How do you know? You don’t know what my plans are, you don’t even ask me anymore!” Sarah cried, marching up a few stairs.

A baby’s wail could be heard in another room. ‘Damn, I woke up Toby,’ Sarah thought, regretting the loud yell she made.

“I assume you’d tell me you had a date. I’d like it if you had a date.” Sarah turned around, furious. “You should have dates at your age.”

She had heard quite enough. Sarah spun once more, holding back the urge to throw a tantrum, similar to the one her little brother was having right now.

“Sarah, you’re home.” Her father observed, cradling the little one in his hands, swaying and bouncing to calm him down. “We were worried about you.”

Sarah’s father was the opposite of her stepmother; he was passive, and never made his daughter feel the way she did when Irene was in the room. At least, he used to be. Prior to marrying Irene, he and Sarah were inseparable. He stood at six feet tall; short brown hair that was impossible to comb, skin that had been wrinkled and tired by time. The two had a close bond; always talking and joking around, and that continued after Sarah’s mother left. After Irene came into the picture, Sarah only saw that her father loved her more instead. She never saw anything else but a man who listened to his wife and took her side on everything.

“I can’t do anything right, can I?” Sarah asked, ignoring her father and stomping up the staircase. She wasted no time walking to her room, making a point by slamming the door full force. Any harder, and she might have broken the thing.

“She treats me like a wicked stepmother in a fairy story no matter what I say.” Irene tattled to her husband.

“I’ll talk to her.” Robert agreed, taking the tiny tot with him, taking the stairs to Sarah's room.