I stare at the castle, the frame  bordered  with pink lace. This picture is suppose to be a present to the king’s youngest daughter before she was taken away. Throughout their history the daughter was very marvelous, always happy, and the kindest to all.

My head begins to throb. A dragon flew over the castle as the guard noisily get into defensive position. Then the pain stops. Why did I remember that? History never mentioned  the castle being attacked.

I was told that I had lost my memory when I was found. This picture somehow relates to my past. Who am I and why now?