Scarlet Ch. 1

***If you've already read the beginning, please skim through again. I made a few minor changes. Thank you!***

I watch as the pallbearers gently set down the coffin. The dismal day perfectly complements how I feel at that moment. As I look around, I realize that only six people are in attendance: the preacher, the four pallbearers, and myself. Great Alice never did have anyone but me.

“Shall we begin?” Father Harrison asks. I simply nod; the sooner I am out of this cemetery, the better. Bible passages are read, the coffin covered. The preacher goes home, leaving me to mourn in solitude, though I do not cry, just stare at the grave. What will I do without you? I ask my dead great-grandmother. I never receive an answer.

With a sigh, I trudge across dirt and gravestones to my car that I will soon no longer be able to afford. I drive back to Great Alice’s house, knowing I will have to finally face the attic. I’m not sure if she would appreciate me rifling through her personal and sentimental items, but it’s moot now. The more I consider going into the attic, I actually find myself looking forward to it; I have always been curious as to what she had stored from the past.

Some would find Great Alice’s house strange or even frightening. Not me, however. It’s the only home I’ve ever known, so it‘s a comfort. I open the door and enter the house for the first time in a week, since Alice passed away. It smells different somehow, or perhaps I just grew unaccustomed to the odor of dried rose petals and dust in my absence. I look at all the familiar objects around the foyer, and I’m surprised that things have stayed the same even though Great Alice is gone. But I don’t waste time feeling nostalgic. I have business upstairs.

The spiral staircase has always been my favorite feature of this house. It’s worn, creaking, and, in some places, termites have eaten away the wood. Still, it manages to retain a charm that cannot be found in newer homes. The steps give me their usual greeting of groans as I make my way up to the attic.

I reach the attic door, and, for the first time, turn the door knob. As I gently slide the door open, a cloud of dust emerges from the room that has not been visited in possibly decades. I fumble in the darkness for a light switch. For a moment, I wonder if this room was never equipped with electricity, it’s that old. Finally, I find an antique lamp, dusty and cracked. The light illuminating from it is weak, but t will have to do.

The room is lit in an eerie way. Shadows are cast in all different angles from the walls; one looks at me with a leer. As I take in my surroundings, I discover that the attic is basically empty, except for one thing.

The single object in the room is a chest. I find it odd that Great Alice would be so protective of it. What kind of treasures has she kept in there for all these years?

I approach the chest cautiously, as if some creature will leap from it and attack. Unfortunately, nothing jumps out because the chest is locked. And I don’t believe I have the key to it.

Suddenly, I feel a breeze. I assume it’s from an open window when I remember that there are no windows in the attic.

Untitled story

I'm so sorry that it's not in paragraph format. It was when I typed it up on Word. I'll try to correct it as best I can (:

Chapter 1
The first and last time I saw Nathaniel was a decade ago, though it seems like even longer. He was the only boy I ever comfortably talked to. I wanted him as my friend, but we could never be.
I was helping Ma clean up because some friends of Mrs. Carter were coming by. Once we were done cleaning, Mrs. Carter sent me to the kitchen; she didn’t want her guests to be disturbed by a small colored child.
In the kitchen, I had no company but a couple of spoons and fancy dishes. I pretended that the blue and white tea cup was a knight, off to rescue Princess Saucer. I’m not sure how long Nathaniel was observing my fantasy, but he made his presence known by snorting when the dishware got married.
“Why are you playing with plates?” he asked, amused.
Why did the boy have to be so stupid. “I’m bored,” I replied. “And why are you here?”
“Because I don’t have anything else to do.”
“Ha! That’s the same as being bored.”
“No it isn’t,” he argued.
“Yes it is,” I argued back.
And we argued like fools for a bit longer. Finally, he said “What’s your name.”
“Violet,” I told him.
“Why’s your name Violet? You’re not violet, you’re black.”
His words stung. I held out my arm. “Does this look black to you?” I asked, then went on before he could answer. “It’s not. It’s brown, maybe maroon. But any idiot can tell you that my skin is not black. Besides, I was named after the flower.” I fumed for a few moments. We were quiet as the breeze from the open window played with our hair. The silence got awkward, so I continued. “And your name is?”
He took introducing himself seriously. “My name is Nathaniel James Thompson the third. I am ten years two months old.”
I was very disappointed that he was three years older than me. “Well, I’m eleven,” I lied.
“If that’s true, I’m seventeen.”
“And I’m thirty-two!”
We laughed. We liked pretending to be grown up.
Finally he asked, “How old are you really?”
I looked down, embarrassed. “I’m only --”
I was interrupted by a Mrs. Carter calling from the great room. “Nathaniel! Where are you, child?!” Seconds later, she walked in, and looked ashamed of me.
“Violet, why are you talking to this fine boy? Don’t bother him any longer, you insolent girl. Let’s go back to our tea, Nathaniel. Your mother’s waiting for you.”
“She wasn’t bothering me, Mrs. Carter. We’re friends.”
I felt a bit of a tingle to know that he was protecting me. Mrs. Carter, however, did not share my joy. Quite frankly, she was disgusted. “Nathaniel! You can’t be friends with her. She’s a servant. And she’s black! Now let’s go and have tea.” She dragged him out by his arm. Before they went through the door, Mrs. Carter shot me a look that said she would talk to me later.
But Nathaniel gave me a look that said we would see each other again.
Chapter 2
Ten years later, and I am still working for the Carters. For ten years, I’ve always watched to see if the company the missus has included Nathaniel. It never did, until today.
Mrs. Carter told me early in the morning that some old colleagues of her's were coming. The news didn’t excite me, for I had given up all hope of seeing Nathaniel again. I did my work as usual; swept the floor, arranged the dishes, dusted the dirt. Again, I was told to go into the kitchen. I lingered around, though, until I caught a glimpse of who the guests were. One of them was unmistakably Nathaniel.

Chapter 3
I am in the kitchen now, waiting. My heart pounds, though I do not know the reason. Why am I nervous? Am I just terrified at the prospect of seeing him again? I can’t be positive if he remembers me. I can’t even be positive if he’ll notice me, yet I hope.
I’ve waited for a while; twenty minutes, half an hour? I know they haven’t left, I can hear the chatter coming through the walls that I can’t escape.
At last, I’m given an opportunity. The missus calls for me. “Violet, bring us more tea!” And I do, happily. I carefully carry the teapot to the great room. The missus looks at me, expectant. I am to fill up their cups, something she has never let me do before. As I go to fill Nathaniel’s, I look at him. He acts as though he doesn’t notice, but when I’m finished he thanks me. And smiles. I’m certain he remembers.

Baby Names

Well, I've been pretty obsessed with baby names for a couple months. When my obsession first started, my favorite names were Keilynn [KYE-lynn] for a girl and Brendon for a boy. I laugh at myself now. [Keilynn is just ridiculous! I made it up, too. *shakes head disapprovingly at self*]

Now I like the names -
Girls:
Audrey Louisa
Ophelia Elise
Lila
Eva
Clara
Boys:
Anthony Ethan/Anthony Mason
Ethan Spencer/Ethan Carter
Ian Carter/Ian Spencer

My taste has definitely changed, ha ha (:

I find it harder to choose girl names than boy names. I obsess about finding the most beautiful/gorgeous/awesome girl names, and then... I couldn't care less about boy names. I just like them :\
Maybe I'm weird/mentally unstable.

{Brought to you by Lina}

Klondike

I feel like typing as I don't have to be in bed anytime soon [thank the lord for zone days at school - I'm off tomorrow!].
I think I will be blogging about my dog (:
So... There is a picture of my Pommie Lonny over in that direction -->
[His full name is Sir Klondike Cuddly-Foot Rutherford Morinheimer Smith IV, and no, I did not make this name up on the spot.]
Also, this picture is, indeed, right-side-up. He was stretching on his back or something of the sort. All I know is, I took the picture like so.

He is, currently, almost 9 months old. We got him when he was seven weeks old last summer [July 14, to be exact].
This picture was taken when he was around 11 weeks old, so it is no where near recent. He's only gotten cuter over the months (:

He's the sweetest thing [and potty trained!]. He's asleep under my chair as I type this ♥

{Brought to you by Lina}

Obscure Cover

This is a cover that I made for the story, should I ever finish it.

Please tell me what you think (:

My Story - Obscure

I'm writing a story [more like attempting]. It's entitled Obscure. I would more than appreciate some feedback (:

Obscure

Prologue
I see the shadows that others don’t care to know of. If only they realized the importance, maybe they’d think differently.
There are shadows in books, in the spine. In the place you can stare at if you’ve literally got your face in a book. You can see the darkness in the crease, but you’ve never paid much attention. There are hidden words there that no one can seem to read, save me. Those words could have changed so many lives had they not been ignored.
Once, the words could have warned Mrs. Lauren Russel about her son’s accident. She was reading Catch-22 as David Russel was hit by a car and killed instantly. Words from the spine screamed, Don’t let him go to baseball practice! Of course, they were not heard, and Mrs. Russel mourns her twelve year old boy’s loss.
If Mariah Hewitt had been attentive enough, she might have heard those hidden words, the obscure, tell her to lock her front door. Instead, an intruder easily broke in while she was reading a book for her English Literature class. She was raped in her dorm, stabbed twice in the chest, and thrown into a lake, her body unrecovered. She, like the obscure, had struggled to be heard.
And, when I was younger, I failed to heed the warnings from my small children’s book. On the cover there was a drawing of a monkey and giraffe. Inside it told a story of jungle friends. Much deeper within it held the key to saving my sister. I ignored that key, and managed to lock the door of Amelia’s life.

Chapter 1
I stand in the shower, allowing myself that blissful, if short, moment. In that moment I’m deaf, but for the sound of the rushing water. I’m numb, but for the hot sting of droplets flying from the showerhead. I wish my burdens would evaporate with the steam.
Dripping with water and fatigue, I exit the shower. I wrap a towel around myself, although it’d be fine if I went out nude. There’s no one else in this house to see me. There hasn’t been in years.
Yes, it does get lonely. But that fact does not bother me, I’ve been alone all my life.

Lina

Hello (:
My name is Lina [pronounced LEE-nuh, not LYNN-uh].
I am a recently turned fourteen year old.
I enjoy writing [I'll be posting my stories and/or poems here].
I'm obsessed with baby names, even though I am not pregnant, and will not be anytime soon.
I'm a Pom mom. My doggie's name is Klondike♥
I'm excitable but indifferent, sarcastic but sincere.

Class of 2014!

{Brought to you by Lina}