It was one of those days. The kind where you know something is going to happen, but nothing ever does. It was an ordinary day at work, the three old women who came everyday around 2 had their usual, and the moms who came in the morning to get bread showed up as usual. I didn't realize the funny feeling inside my stomach until I left. I had grabbed my purse and hung up my apron like I always do, and said good bye to Chryssa, the owner of the bakery. I knew it was April, even though I did not own a calendar. That's what I thought was the last of the spy in me, but boy was I wrong.
When I left work everyday it was sunset. This day was no different. So I began my walk down the cobblestone pathway that would eventually lead to my door step. I took in my surroundings like normal spies do, and kept my ears and eyes open. I did these things without thinking about it. I grew up being the daughter of two very strong spies, raised to be just like them. When my father "died" I lost some of my strength, and right then I believed I wasn't as strong as I could be. Being a spy was my personality. It was my DNA. I was, and still am, a spy, whether I feel like I am or not. It is who I am, and I thought I could run away from that. Of course, I didn't.
So I followed the path past the center of town and to the edge of the harbor, where I would then start walking up the hill to my cottage. Usually there are just small fishing boats along the dock, but tonight there was a larger one I had never seen before. I stopped, readjusted my purse on my shoulder, and looked to the end of the dock where the large boat was. There were two men loading items off the boat. It was getting too dark for me to see their actual bodies, but I could tell that they weren't old. They looked strong, fit and muscular. My mind wondered to the other men my age in the small town. They were all scrawny and hairy. If they shaved, everywhere, they may be better looking. I mentally chuckled, and looked back to the dark figures again. They were still unloading. I wondered what they could possibly be bringing, because here on the island, we don't get many imports. Sure we need things like coal and wood to heat our houses, but animals, food and clothes are all made here. Could these men be moving here? I guessed it could be a possibility. There was a cottage not far from mine that was emptied recently after old Mr. Papa died. His family cleared everything he owned out pretty quickly. They sold most of it. I went down and bought a necklace he had. It was a circular stone with a good sized hole in the middle to put a string through. It was plain and simple, but I felt the need to help out his poor family, I over-payed for it too.
Anyways, the men just kept unloading giant boxes out of the boat so I kept walking towards my house. It was dark enough that all the stars were out, and I could see them for miles. That is one thing I could remember was the same about Greece and Roseville. Both places, I could see millions-no, billions of stars every night. I never got tired of it, and I knew that my family and best friends could be looking at them too. Cliché, I know, but it gave me a little hope about where they were and if they were safe. I hoped and wished more than anything that they were safe. They could be pissed off at me for all I care, but I did this to make them safe. That's all I care about, and all that matters.
When I got to my doorstep there was a small package waiting for me. It was addressed to Megan Morris, and had the town's name and island's name on the delivery sticker. It was postmarked for two weeks ago….wait. Someone sent me a package? Who else, besides somebody in this town, could know about Megan Morris? And even if it was someone in this town, I know enough people that whatever was in there could have been given to me by hand, not through the mail. It seemed strange to me, so I just picked it up and went in my door. It was surprisingly light. I set my purse on my table and sat down next to the window. Grated, none of the windows here had glass and the houses were made of stone, so they all were open, exposing the cool, salty night air.
I slowly ripped the tape off one of the ends, and peeked inside. Nothing hazardous, nothing smelly, nothing sharp. Ok, I was all good to go. I reached inside, only to pull out multiple letter envelopes. I glanced at the first one in the stack and immediately stared in shock. I droped them all onto the table as my hands shot up to my mouth. The letters were addressed to me. Specifically, Cammie Morgan.
Alright, so I was just soooooo excited that I decided to post the second chapter!
I hope you liked it.
So I know that some authors ask for a specific amount of reviews for the next chapter, but I am not like that. I wouldn't want you guys to feel like you ABSOLUTELY HAVE to review to get the next one. And I don't want you to be viciously waiting until I get the amount of reviews I want to post the next chapter. Ha. That has happened to me before. It S.U.C.K.S. I believe that they will come when I have time to write them! Thanks!