I was a serious child, and not without good reason. I must have been about five years old the first time I can remember racing through the dark forest on a unicorn, my brother to the left upon a flying dragon and my sister close behind in a golden carriage pulled by six horses. Stars poked through the leaves above and thousands of ugly, screaming, giant trolls jumped up and down through the trees, closing in on us by the second. Will we make the castle before the trolls make dinner of us? Suddenly the energy was sucked from our magical creatures, the forest slowed down, the trolls grabbed us and threw us into the air laughing. "Didn't you enjoy that?" enquired one of the largest trolls, looking at me through thick black eye brows. "Uhmm, yes" I replied, blinking and frowning; a few seconds ago it was the castle or death! "You didn't look like you enjoyed it" he continued. "Your mother and I jumped up and down, called your name, waved like mad, but you didn't wave back or smile once! All the other children on the carousel were waving to their parents". Briefly my father looked disappointed, then in a flash it was forgotten as he growled and chased us through the fair whilst we screamed with delight. Reality is secondary to a fast pair of legs, an imaginary sword and a flying horse when you are five years old. This illustration was rejected as a sample spread for a book, but that's part of the job. When I painted it I wanted it to be sleepy, to compliment the lullaby script, and subliminally a dream like merry-go-round; the poles becoming trees, the animals flying free. There are no trolls as they'd wake the baby. Sweet dreams. Elena Gomez
