I'm back, and (hopefully) better than ever.
The story so far: this story was started back in 2010 when I worked as a lowly cashier and, when the shop was dead (which was a fair portion of the time) I scribbled some stuff down in a note book then typed it all up and published it here. Unfortunately, it wasn't very good, (understatement), so it went on hiatus. Since then, I enrolled to study writing at University, moved half a dozen times, including one all the way to Colorado in America where I lived for 6 months and back again, gone through three laptops and two phones, lived, loved, lost and am in my final year of study, and, at the end of this year, will graduate as a 'professional writer'. Phew. Needless to say, life surely got in the way with anything that was university work!
I want to say that I hope that I will be able to finish this story by the end of the year. That's the goal! Being that it's half finished, it's not an unreasonable goal... possibly.
Enjoy it. I'll post periodically.
Isabella.
Staying on my feet in this slush wasn't the easiest for most people, let alone the clumsiest person in the Chicago vicinity. And I was in a rush. I pulled my white woollen crocheted shawl tighter around my shoulders, trying to cover a little more of my bare shoulders and neck. I felt the heaviness of the wet, ankle length, wool skirt on my hips, it slapped against my ankles with every step. I usually had on some more fashionable clothes, knee length dresses and ostentatious bare shoulders, but, for now, it was just too damn cold. I daren't look at the hem on the skirt, and the filth that would have accumulated there. I laughed at myself and thought what my dear mother would say about her daughter: the dirty runaway living in a whorehouse, a whore herself.
Alright, technically I wasn't yet. But I was well on my way to a first client. Victoria, the woman who'd taken me in when I begged in rags on the streets, had promised me, but not before making me wait weeks first.
I was cast back in my own mind when she told me what she really was.
The chapter's vary between this long, to a few thousand words. I'm not very consistent in length.
Cheers,
Jess