G
Greys
Guest
K so this take place in the mid 1800's in Boston America. My main character just immagrated from Ireland.
Animals. They’re all animals! Screaming and running; twisting their hands in each others hair as they laugh and giggle.
Children. My person pet peeve and single most important goal in life NOT to have. Okay, I was being a bit moody, but couldn’t I have a little bit of peace and quiet?
“Out of my kitchen!” My mother screamed as five or six or maybe it was fifty of my cousins undulated from the kitchen. Who even invented cousins? Silly question, but really, weren’t brothers and sisters enough? I would know I had six of those.
Luckily my Aunts and Uncles were home to settle the beasts down while I sat and read in a distant corner of the room. Although, apparently not distant enough.
“Watcha readin?” said my little sister, Amy.
I tried to keep my glare concealed. It’s not her fault; she’s seven, a whopping eight year difference then me, so of course she wouldn’t understand I just wanted to be left alone.
“Jane Austen,” I mumbled into the pages of my book, taking comfort in the old musty smell of the pages and of course the lovely Mr. Darcy.
Amy wrinkled her nose. “Who’s that?” She popped up on her toes to peer at the pages herself. I shied the pages away from her young eyes. Of course, the exact page I would be at was the kissing scene. Not that she could read anyways, but you just couldn’t have your baby sister looking over your shoulder as you read a scene like that.
“Amy,” I grumbled as she looked up at me innocently with her big brown eyes. I rolled my own eyes and snapped my book shut. I needed to get out of there before I went insane. “If mother asks, tell her I went on a walk.” I placed the book on the seat I’d just vacated and made a straight line for the door. Everyone was too preoccupied to see my escape, except of course Amy who trailed behind me and pleaded she come with me.
Not wanting in the least to go over the same argument we had every time I went out at night; I ignored her pleading then shut the door in her face. She’d forgive me later, for now, I needed quiet.
The icy Boston winter air attached my lungs with the first breath I took. I mentally cursed myself for not bringing my hat and a warmer coat, but there was no way I was walking back into that hell hole.
My footsteps sang on the uneven stones, the sound bouncing and echoing off the tall brick buildings aligning the tight alleyway. A collection of puddles dappled the ground, outlining my narrow walkway of un-drowned stone.
A door opened casting a faint glow up ahead. A man hollered, “Get out!”
A tall girl with long dark brown hair stomped out of the door, her heels clicked loudly with the semi-silence.
She whipped her body around and growled back, “I already am!” She had a heavy accent, from where, I couldn’t tell. Her long slim arms pushed with all the force she had, which was a lot, and the door crashed shut. The girl let out a loud huff and then sat right back down on the steps to the door.
I didn’t know if I should continue walking or what. With hesitant steps I continued forward.
I got a few feet forward when the girl called out in her heavy accent, “I’m Romhilda.” Her voice echoed off the walls in the alleyway. I stopped like a soldier on command. Was she talking to me? I eased into a turn towards the girls, trying to act casual, just in case she wasn’t talking to me. “Was that a nice show?” she asked with bitter humor. She was staring at me, her head resting on her knuckles as her long dark hair draped over her body like a curtain.
Animals. They’re all animals! Screaming and running; twisting their hands in each others hair as they laugh and giggle.
Children. My person pet peeve and single most important goal in life NOT to have. Okay, I was being a bit moody, but couldn’t I have a little bit of peace and quiet?
“Out of my kitchen!” My mother screamed as five or six or maybe it was fifty of my cousins undulated from the kitchen. Who even invented cousins? Silly question, but really, weren’t brothers and sisters enough? I would know I had six of those.
Luckily my Aunts and Uncles were home to settle the beasts down while I sat and read in a distant corner of the room. Although, apparently not distant enough.
“Watcha readin?” said my little sister, Amy.
I tried to keep my glare concealed. It’s not her fault; she’s seven, a whopping eight year difference then me, so of course she wouldn’t understand I just wanted to be left alone.
“Jane Austen,” I mumbled into the pages of my book, taking comfort in the old musty smell of the pages and of course the lovely Mr. Darcy.
Amy wrinkled her nose. “Who’s that?” She popped up on her toes to peer at the pages herself. I shied the pages away from her young eyes. Of course, the exact page I would be at was the kissing scene. Not that she could read anyways, but you just couldn’t have your baby sister looking over your shoulder as you read a scene like that.
“Amy,” I grumbled as she looked up at me innocently with her big brown eyes. I rolled my own eyes and snapped my book shut. I needed to get out of there before I went insane. “If mother asks, tell her I went on a walk.” I placed the book on the seat I’d just vacated and made a straight line for the door. Everyone was too preoccupied to see my escape, except of course Amy who trailed behind me and pleaded she come with me.
Not wanting in the least to go over the same argument we had every time I went out at night; I ignored her pleading then shut the door in her face. She’d forgive me later, for now, I needed quiet.
The icy Boston winter air attached my lungs with the first breath I took. I mentally cursed myself for not bringing my hat and a warmer coat, but there was no way I was walking back into that hell hole.
My footsteps sang on the uneven stones, the sound bouncing and echoing off the tall brick buildings aligning the tight alleyway. A collection of puddles dappled the ground, outlining my narrow walkway of un-drowned stone.
A door opened casting a faint glow up ahead. A man hollered, “Get out!”
A tall girl with long dark brown hair stomped out of the door, her heels clicked loudly with the semi-silence.
She whipped her body around and growled back, “I already am!” She had a heavy accent, from where, I couldn’t tell. Her long slim arms pushed with all the force she had, which was a lot, and the door crashed shut. The girl let out a loud huff and then sat right back down on the steps to the door.
I didn’t know if I should continue walking or what. With hesitant steps I continued forward.
I got a few feet forward when the girl called out in her heavy accent, “I’m Romhilda.” Her voice echoed off the walls in the alleyway. I stopped like a soldier on command. Was she talking to me? I eased into a turn towards the girls, trying to act casual, just in case she wasn’t talking to me. “Was that a nice show?” she asked with bitter humor. She was staring at me, her head resting on her knuckles as her long dark hair draped over her body like a curtain.