Over Many a Quaint & Curious Volume of Forgotten Lore

  This is how it all began.

Once upon a time...

Once upon a time, in the far away kingdom unknown to many, there lived quite the abnormal royal family. And let me be the first to introduce myself as your royal highness, Princess Mitchell. Although the title of princess is generally used to distinguish female; and furthermore, it tends to have denotations rather than being associated with predominance, I find that the word prince has more of masculine sound instead of a light and almost feathery one like princess portrays. In any case, a general consensus has been made that I will and forever remain with the title of princess as I deem fit.

Continuing with this incredibly factual tale, I am the only child to my half French mother, Jacqueline Burton and 'no longer with us' father, Carlisle Burton (who was named by my grandmother and grandfather after Carlisle, Cumbria, a settlement within Cumbria, England.)You can say it is my mother's way of nurturing me that I have such a fairy tale look on everything. And it is this curse that I suffer through my everyday life.

It was just a few days ago that I had celebrated my 20th birthday with some of my closest friends. 20 is a milestone in one's life; I see it as the proper bridge between adolescence and adulthood, not quite a teenager and yet, not quite an adult. And it also marked the promise (my sometimes foolish and despicable) mother had made. One I had never taken quite seriously. Queen Jacqueline always told me I was her, 'poupée' as well as granted wish. And admitting that isn't something every parent tells her child I saw it more as her way of saying 'miracle'. And the story she told me, honestly speaking, I had thought was her clever way of telling me a fairy tale that incorporated my name to entertain and amuse me.

When the story would conclude, she'd kiss my head and wish me pleasant dreams. And that is all I've ever had. Only pleasant dreams. As if the story was more than just a tale.

But continuing from where I left off, I celebrated my 20th birthday some days ago. The festivities were fit for a princess of my standards and I had been enjoying my party up until it had been crashed terribly by a man in black so dark, his cloak and shadow blended. His face was covered and masked by a darkness that I could not get a proper look. He crackled, curled long fingers and croaked, "How impolite not to invite your own father!"

It was that exact moment my world came crashing further down and crumbled around me. The stupid bedtime story my mother would recite nightly wasn't just that, but in reality, her reminiscing. In other words, it was true and I was totally and still am, royally screwed.

It all happened so rapidly. The ball ended quickly. My party guests fled for their lives and left me standing there amongst the rubble with my partner in crime, Sir Dazzle McGrath, mouth opened catching flies and eyes wide. No sooner had he came he vanished into the night.

"So Princess, forget to invite one of your fairies to the party?" he teased inappropriately.

Dazzle has been my mate since my birth...or voodoo magic manipulation creation. (Happy Voodoo Magic Manipulation Creation Day!) He's an eccentric, loud, big mouth, flamboyant, trouble maker. I call him transsexual; he says he's just like me. I prefer Princess, he prefers being a he/she.

Which is completely acceptable. I find nothing wrong with Dazzle's life style, personality and choices. Who am I to judge? Though I find myself more open minded than most people tend to be.

Still, with my mouth gaping and my heart pounding; I could not fathom how this could make any sense. Believe me, I could not be making this up if I tried.

I was a doll and with the help of some unexplainable magic used by a talking frog, I was transformed into a real boy. How fucking fantastic.

And Dazzle's mocking was not making the situation any lighter.

"You know what we have to do?" He suddenly said, two inches away from my face.

The guy has absolutely no respect for an individual's personal space.

"And what might that be?" I snapped back.

I had my doubts that he could offer anything close to help.

"We have to find that sorcerous frog get him to enchant you some more and keep you from become a cute dolly. HEY! If we don't succeed, can I keep you as a plaything?"

Absolutely eccentric, isn't he. Sadly, I couldn't help but agree. If I wanted to continue living I had to find the beast who claimed to be my father.

That is exactly what I planned to do as well.

I can tell you how long Mother cried when I told her Dazzle and I planned to find the talking frog. I can tell you, although I will not. I rather not bore you.

Through her tears, she insisted we took the Royal Stallion Cars. I think they're imported from Italy or some far, far away Kingdom. 
With everything packed and both of us determined, we set off on an adventure to restore the peace and keep me whole.

And, that my friends, is how everything that I will, on a weekly basis, update, came to be.