I've run out of food and survival equipment. Luckily, I've locked myself up in a house near a Target. It's a nifty place where you can get almost everything you need. The only problem is I'm not sure how many people have already raided the place. Hopelly not alot. I'm alone on this mission as I've been alone my whole life so why would the apocalypse change that. I cover myself in layers of thick clothes and cover my face in dirt. I open the door and with a deep breath I leave my haven.

I'm wary of how easy it was to get to Target without running into zombies. Did they just decide to hang out in a different town? This town is pretty boring. I walk into target and fill up a basket with a shit ton of stuff. Bread. Rice. Water. Cereal. Granola bars.

Unfortunately Target doesn't sell ammo, but then again most places don't. I guess the conservatives were just preparing for the zombie apocalypse all along and that's why they were obsessed with gun rights. Doesn't matter now. Politics now are simply zombie vs not. I'm rolling my cart back to my place when I see a figure walking my way. I try yo calmly steer to the house in hopes they don't run if I don't run either. Of course, that logic simply failed as the creature started to run. I push my cart as hard as I can to my house. The cart is too big for the door so, having left the door unlocked, I tip everything inside and shove the cart and lock my door. I grab the wooden planks and hammer them in. Luckily the windows are sealed and the curtains are drawn.

Why did zombies have to be real? I was really hoping it was just pop culture's newest fad, like how in the 70's people were obsessed with bell bottoms. My heart starts to slow down as I know the zombie can't get in, especially alone. Then I hear someone coming in from the inner part of the house. A human with a gun is soon standing in front of my and I release a large sigh, "Shoot." 

It's not easy being different. Being different is harder than we'd like to admit. People laugh and say Oh I love being unique, it's what makes life interesting. But inside when you're alone with your thoughts with nothing to distract you, everything about you that isn't a part of society's "normal" goes under your figurative microscope and you inspect yourself until you feel small and naked and unloved.

You think about how people don’t like your jokes–at all. So that way the next time you go out and someone laughs, you’re convinced they are laughing at you and not with.

You think about your smile and how your teeth are little yellow-not because you aren’t hygienic, just because that’s what happened. But everyone has them whitened so the next time you take a selfie you layer it with filters.

You think about the freckles that cover your face and yet everyone else has a flawless face. So you cover your skin with layers of makeup thinking you finally caught up to everyone, only for people to start drawing on “cute freckles”.

You think about how loud your voice is and so the next time you go out you decide not to talk lest your told to shut up and stop being annoying.

You think about how you don’t know if life is even worth trying. Everyone always switching up the game so your always three steps behind everyone. So when you walk up and go about your day, your friends are keeping you out of the loop and you only know because one of them slipped.

God forbid anyone told you the secret to surviving mainstream society. Instead, everyone looks at you and tells you how unique you are and how you should embrace it, forgetting how when you try to embrace yourself there are invisible arms holding you back, strangling you and making it hard to breathe.

Have you ever felt that way? Don’t worry, it means your not so unique after all. 

Could you imagine being a girl with no place to belong, so you find yourself in a tower all alone? No one to keep you company except the occasional stop in from your mother? I’ve asked her several times why I’m here and if I can ever leave. She’s been insistent for several years that I’m better off in here because if I were found I’d be in serious danger. I imagine the deep ocean, the world of nature and humans intermingled in towns as they go about their day.

Honestly, the tower isn’t terrible, just really boring after being her for 18 years with not much to do after having read every possible book and drawing and writing as much as one can. The only task that takes a really long time anymore is pulling my mother. Oh yes, I forgot to mention that the only entrance to this tower is through the use of my long, long, locs. I myself am skeptical that it’s possible, but I’ve explored this tower for eighteen years looking for a way out and never found one. I could cut my locs and climb down, but my mother made sure to hide all sharp utensils.

I’m no idiot; I’ve tried a hundred and one ways to get out. I even reached the bottom of the tower a couple of times. But my hair knots and gets stuck to the hook I used to levy myself down, so I climb back up, untangle myself and sit in misery. I’ll talk to you guys tomorrow, today I’m so tired I just need to sleep–I went up and down the tower 6 times. My damn hair has cursed me to this building.

***

My mother left her shears next to the rose bush at the bottom of the tower!

I left. I’m currently sitting under a tree several steps away from my prison–sorry, home.

I feel bad because Mother will worry about me and think I’ve been hurt, but she’s taught me all her wisdom. I think I can hazard the real world instead of my dreadful bubble.

***

I walked for a while and found several beautiful flowers which I collected and people thought I was selling them. I’m no fool, I have no money so I let them buy the flowers off me with pleasure. It’s odd how close the tower is to the town, but no one has ever seen it. I’ve tried looking for it from here, but if I hadn’t lived there I would think it didn’t exist as I certainly cannot find it from out here.

***

An interesting thing happened today. I ran into the king. Yes, the king himself! Mother had mentioned him being a kind and noble man with much respect from all the people of the land. She called him handsome–a man with a twinkle in his great green eyes, a face proudly covered in lines of laughter, and a swoosh of silky caramel hair that rivaled few. She said that one must always respect a generous, brave and knowledgeable king. She’d be disappointed in me if she saw my first interaction. I didn’t realize he was the king so when he pushed passed me and didn’t apologize I called after him. He was shocked I called him out of his rude behavior, but just because I lived a life of isolation doesn’t mean I don’t know what manners are. He admitted he was at fault and when I graciously accepted his apology he hesitated before asking if I lived in town. I decided to be slightly honest saying I live near but not quite in town. He laughed and said something under his breath with I understood to be, “That’d explain why you don’t realize I’m the king.”

I must say I turned red as a tomato but I saw the man my mother had painted over the years. I decided acting flustered and remorse would be a fool’s way of earning one’s regard. Instead, I treated him as I expected him to treat me. We spoke briefly and then he noticed my bare feet and asked me why I was walking without shoes. Though mother had bought me a few pairs of shoes, I never found them comfortable and since I was indoors I saw no reason to put up with their pinching. In my haste to leave, I didn’t think to put someone and all the money I earned was spent buying food. Oops. As my lack of response grows longer and longer his look becomes wary.

“Where did you say you were from?” He asked.

I shrugged, “I didn’t say. I live in a place with no name.”

He nodded slowly and made a gesture which had a man on a bench a few feet away standing up and approaching us. Of course, the king doesn’t walk around without some protection. Clever of him to disguise them as common people. When the bodyguard arrived the king told him to bring me to the castle. Naturally, my heart beat faster and I tried to run–in vain.

Now, I’m in a castle.

***

You must be wondering what happened after being dragged into the king’s castle. The truth is that nothing happened. The bodyguard placed me in an ornate room with a bed the size of the tower’s room. I decided if he was going to harm me I’d be in a cell–which, if I may add, is no different than my tower. So, I laid down and fell asleep after sleeping on the ground for a few days this is an upgrade.

When I woke up there was a tray of dinner on the table and a closet full of shoes and dresses. It was very bewildering. I ate and then wandered around the castle. It is so large that I only ran into a few people, mostly guards of the castle. After that, I tried to find my way back and by the time I did I laid in the bed and woke up just a few minutes ago.

There isn’t any food waiting for me so I think I’ll go out and look because my stomach is yelling at me quite adamantly.

***

I found food. Well, a young gentleman had the courtesy to help me find food. He was very kind and didn’t make any mention of my bare feet and unruly hair. After cutting it with shears the ends of my braids started to unravel. I re-did them as my mother taught me, but she’s so much better at it. You’re probably wondering how and why did my hair grow so long but my mother just told me to embrace my roots and she never cut it, so I never worried about it.

Sorry, I’m running off topic. I found the dining halls. I’m in them right now. The table is almost as big as the room itself and could easily fit 100 people. It’s awkward sitting here on my own eating grapes. I can hear the grapes explode in my mouth.

The young man who helped my find the room just came in to offer me water. He’s really nice. And his clothes look very fine. He acts like he’s a server, but I’m convinced he isn’t. He’s looking at me right now and I’m not sure what to say. Maybe if I ignore him he’ll go away. He’s just sat down across from me. Of all the chairs in the room.

“The king will be here any moment you know.”

I swallow my grape, “Do you know him well?”

“He’s my guardian.”

I gasp, “You’re the prince?”

He laughs heartily, “No, I’m most definitely not the prince. The king has no heir. He does, however, have several orphans living in the castle. Myself included.”

“Well, isn’t that kind of him?”

“I’d say so. Five years ago I was thieving away and he caught me. Took me in and straightened me out. I wasn’t his first and I definitely am not his last.”

At first, I don’t understand, but then I realize the king thinks I’m an orphan! Before I can explain the king walks in. He greets us and sits beside the boy. Before he can even pick up a grape the kitchen doors open and a flurry of servers come out with food. Pies and eggs and meat. I’m not sure how they think the three of us could finish it, but then several more people start walking in to sit down at the table. Some look around my age, some younger, some older. I wonder which of them are the orphans the king has taken in.

The king stands up and thanks everyone for joining him on this fine day. Everyone raises their glasses and he sits back down. The king looks right at me, “What is that book?”

Maybe I should stop writing.

***

Okay, I’m back. I’ve just finished eating and the king and I had an interesting conversation. It went a little like this:

“What is that book?”

I scribble my last line then close it, “My diary Sir.”

“Please, call me Eugene.”

“Oh well, my name is Rapunzel.”

“Lovely name.”

“Thank you. My mother named me after the flower.”

“Ah. And where my I ask, is your mother?”

“Well, she left me at home to go buy some fabric. I left without telling her. I’m sure she’s frantic with worry.”

“So you ran away?”

“Not really. I plan to go back. I am just really enjoying myself.”

“You shouldn’t worry your mother so. I can have a carriage sent to your house to get your mother.”

I was a nervous wreck. How do I explain to the king that I live in a tower that no one else will find if they hadn’t stumbled upon it in my years there?

I settled for a probable truth, “She’s not going to be home. She’ll be looking for me.”

“Surely she’d go home for rest.”

I shake my head, “She thinks people are going to hurt me.”

“Why would anyone do a thing like that?”

I touch my hair subconsciously and quietly reply, “Because I’m different.”

“I knew a woman with hair similar to yours. Her skin was much darker than yours and she’s still the most amazing woman I’ve ever know.”

“Really? My mother has told me stories of what happens to people like me. Bad stories.”

“I’d like to think this kingdom is better than judging someone one appearances.”

I shrugged and eat to avoid answering anymore question. It worked.

I can still feel the king and young man’s stare. They looked at me like a puzzle that needed to be pieced together. I’m not liking it. I imagine it’s how predator looks at their prey.

***

It's been 6 days since I've left the castle and I'm sure my mom is worried sick. She's probably imagining me dead in a ditch or something. I've been feeling guilty since the day I left but I'm not sure how to ask the king to let me go. I feel like he politely kidnaped me or something. I'm not in any jail but he's kept me here for a reason I imagine.

Well, it doesn't matter what his plan is. I'm going to ask him to let me go. And I won't have him offering a carriage to get her—lest I have to explain the tower.

***

He said he'd send me off right away. He's got my bags on the steps and a carriage waiting for me. I'm extremely surprised. I'm not sure what I expected but it wasn't that....

I didn't think it would end this way. Being on death row was never on my bucket list, but I guess no one every really plans for this kind of detour in life. I never had it easy in life, but I never really struggled either. I had a roof over my head and meals to eat three times a day. I was told to focus on my studies. That's all my parents really wanted. I guess they thought once I had my degree I'd be set for life. That's a lie. I wonder what they'd think of me now. Although, if they were alive I wouldn't be in here. Yeah, you got it. I'm in here for the murder of my parents. I can guarantee you I didn't do it. My fingerprints are everywhere in the house, but I visited them all the time. My supposed motive is that they are my adoptive parents and I got mad when I found out, so mad I killed them in a fit of rage. 

I'll admit I was pissed to have had waited 25 years to be told I was adopted. It feels like my whole life was a lie, but I accepted it. It's easy for me to say that if I adopted a kid I'd tell them right away, but if I got them and they were 3, they wouldn't even really get it. If I got them at any age older they'd probably have already known. My parents got me when I was 2 years old, but the time I would've understood the concept I was their baby. It was them who couldn't handle me telling them otherwise. The day they told me I asked them who my real parents were and they told me. I looked them up and they were just random people with their own lives. They didn't want me then, but maybe they want me now? I'm not some confused and tortured teen but I'm still young. Young enough to want to meet them, but I didn't plan on making them my parents. I just wanted to know them a little. My parents were the people who raised me. 

Here I am, locked away for a crime I didn't commit. A crime that has me waking up in tears. It's been 7 years since that day. Today is my final day and the only reason I'm resentful about my arrest is that the killer is still out there, maybe even killed more people and got more innocent strangers in prison. I ask for a pen and some paper, write the same letter ten times and have the send to for all the lawyers near town.  

I see you every day

Always so composed

Lovely in every way

When you smile

I melt a little inside

When you laugh

It's music for my soul

You come to me 

For help and a hand

You ask for advice 

I give you my all

Then you stop looking at me

You ignore my calls

I wonder why 

My heart aches for you again

I need your laugh 

I need your smile

Each day away hurts more and more

All I want is your gentle touches

Your whispers and endless blushes

You've left me 

I'm weaker and weaker every day

I come by your house

I walk past your work 

I linger near your classes

Just for a look, for a sniff

Anything to ease the pain in me

I just want to end the misery 

Come back to me 

Let me love you 

Or I'm lost to a dizzying pain 

With no relief, driving me insane

I see you one day 

Another on your shoulder

I see red and I'm filled with rage

To you, I was just a phase

I shake and tremble but find vigor

To grab the gun and pull the trigger