Note: So someone asked me to say how frequently I'd be updating. The thing is, I also have another story I'm consistently updating and I'm finishing my final year of college so I'm making the transition to University. I do not have much time usually so I can't give a schedule to when a chapter will be updated as I plan on putting a lot of time and effort into these chapters. I know how it will play out, who will be in the story and even how it will end. I am still going to keep updating but I can't give out a set time because I may not be able to update in time with a schedule.
0000
I have always loved stories, ever since I was little. And here's my story.
My name is Kurt Hummel, I'm eight years old! At the moment I'm in my room in the basement of my master's home. I'm wearing a dark grey jumper that practically buries me, while also wearing tattered trousers. I shivered against the coldness of the damp room and wrapped my arms around myself. I had just finished tending to the gardens, it did not help that it was the dead of winter either. I raised my eyes when I saw the door slowly open. I smiled when my mum walked into the room with a book tucked under her arm.
"How's my little man?" She asked softly. Her voice was like music, and somehow I didn't mind being poor. I have all I could need- my mother and father. Nothing could hurt me as long as they were around. "I am sorry that I am late back, sweetie, but I've brought your story." She set herself down on my bed, allowing me to cuddle up to her. The only story I could really remember was 'The Rime of the Ancient Mariner' and though it wasn't a happy tale, I still enjoyed it. The extended poem was unique and amazed me. The poem was from 1978. Mum told me that learning to understand poetry meant that I would be able to truly appreciated novels for their clever use of language techniques. The symbolism in the poem astounded me, and would later help me notice symbolism in little things in books.
"Poor Mariner," I mumbled to himself. "But he still shouldn't have shot the Albacross."
"Albatross." Mum corrected with a soft giggle. I giggled in reply and read the poem quietly along with my mum, occasionally flushing in embarrassment when I said certain lines entirely wrong.
"How was your day, mummy?" I asked innocently, looking up at her curiously. Mum's smile was soft and angelic as she ruffled my hair, causing me to gasp and frantically try and fix it.
"It was lovely, dear, the young master is learning very quickly." I nodded and clapped my hands happily. Just then dad tapped lightly on the door and walked in with a tired smile. I hopped off the bed and ran to him. Dad lifted me up and spun me around, making me squeal. "Well hello there." Mum chuckled as she walked over. Dad held his me in his arms and smiled as mum got closer. They both kissed and I pretended to throw up, teasing them light-hearted. Dad rolled his eyes.
"Don't make me dangle you upside down." He threatened. I stuck my tongue my tongue out at him, causing him to raise his eyebrows. My mum and dad shared a look over my shoulder. Suddenly, before I could even react, the world whirled and I was dangling upside down. I screeched and flailed wildly, covering my eyes.
"Put me dooown!" I exclaimed loudly.
"Did you hear something, dear?" I heard mum ask. I opened my eyes slightly and saw her cross her arms.
"Nothing at all." I heard dad laugh. I continued to flail.
"Stooop!" I whined. Eventually dad set me down on the floor. I pouted, crossing my arms and frowning at him. But my dad's chuckling face made me smile again.
"Sweetie," Mum said, kneeling down next to me. I turned my attention to her. "I forgot to say earlier, but I have to go into town. The cook needs some more bread and everyone else is busy."
"I could go get it for you!" I beamed up at her, eager to help in any possible way. Mum's smile always seemed to encourage me.
"Thank you, sweetie, but it's late and I can't have you out so let. Growing boys need their sleep."
That was the last time I'd seen her alive…
I woke up with a gasp. The thunder exploded outside the window, rain soon following. I could hear the mutterings and shuffles of the servants moving around outside my room. I dragged my blanket with me as I scooted over to the window. There was something about the dark sky that concerned me. There was one star that shined brighter than the rest, and though it was a beautiful sight… I felt as though something had struck my heart. Why was I suddenly so scared? I jumped down from my bed and slowly pushed my door open. People were running back and forth, not noticing me as they shoved their way past. I grunted and fell onto the floor, dazed and confused. Slowly I picked myself up and follow the people that had passed me. I heard a loud cry of pain… From a deep voice…Dad.
"NO! ELIZABETH, ELIZABETH!" Daddy screeched. He threw himself to the floor; suddenly he was surrounded by people. I frowned and felt the fear tug at my nerves once again. Why was he crying mummy's name? She's only out getting bread, she won't be late home. I walked closer, trying to preserve these thoughts. 'She's safe, she'll be home soon'. My eyes widened when I saw what my dad was crying about. My mum was lying on the dirty floor, her face pale and her eyes wide and glassy. There was no light in her eyes, she wasn't seeing anything anymore. I didn't look at my dad, I couldn't, my eyes were glued to hers.
"Mummy…?" I whimpered. The other servants recognised my presence but they made no move to keep me away. They were crying silent tears, speaking no words. I stepped closer and kneeled down on the floor, taking her hand. I recoiled slightly. She was frozen. "Mummy… wake up, please? You're so cold; you can have my blanket if you want." Mummy had always joked that she could fall asleep with her eyes open. Maybe it wasn't a joke… Maybe she was doing just that, and everyone was overreacting. I looked to my dad, seeing his face twisted in anguish. "It's ok, daddy, she's just sleeping." I said comfortingly, but my words didn't seem to mean anything. In fact, they seemed to hurt him even more.
"Kurt," Said the footman, kneeling down to me. He put a hand on my shoulder. "Listen, I was told that your mother was attacked. A homeless man in the streets saw her with the bread, he was desperate. It seems he didn't know his own strength. Some passing soldiers found out which family she belonged to and brought her here. I'm sorry, kid, but she's gone." He had spoken carefully, as though I was going to break if he didn't. I shook my head, the tears building up in my own eyes.
"No, no, mummy is ok," I insisted, watching the man's face twist into pity. "She's just sleeping!" I exclaimed, tears running down my face. Maybe if I willed it enough, it would be true. I was always told that if you want something bad enough, then there is always a way to make it happen. I willed myself to believe she was alive, internally prayed to the god I didn't believe in. I threw myself next to her and cuddled up to her, gripping her shirt tightly in my hands. "Wake up, wake up." I whimpered brokenly. "Don't leave, mummy. Remember you said I could be a writer some day? That's because you've made it possible for me to be able to leave. I love you, please don't go."
The funeral was the worst part. Our master's had shown up to pay their 'respects', and then it was our turn…
"Why isn't there a headstone?" I asked gravely. I heard my dad sigh from beside me.
"You know we can't afford one, buddy." He said gently. I nodded mutely, silent tears rolling down my cheeks. I walked closer and knelt down on the mud. There was one singular flower on the grave. My master had put it there, I knew it. There, resting on the mud, was a camellia blossom. It is tradition that every time a servant dies a camellia blossom should be placed on the grave. I have always hated that tradition. A camellia blossom was a beautiful flower, always seen but its name never usually remembered. The flower was delicate and underappreciated, when a camellia blossom falls it is silently tragic. Very much like the servants. These flowers were being placed on the graves because of tradition, but also because of other reasons. Some masters did place the flower as a sign of respect, some placed it simply for the tradition to uphold appearances, and some did it spitefully. I was pretty sure it was the latter in this case. I curled my lip in disgust.
That was the moment I left my innocence behind, I adopted the stony expression that reflected the world I lived in…
"Kurt, what are you doing?" My father asked. I plucked the flower from the grave and threw it aside. My mother was beautiful, and yes she was underappreciated by our masters. But when she fell it was not a silent tragedy. It was loud, and painful. So many agonising screams. My heart was ripped out and shattered on the dirty floor. Tragic. The word sounded hatefully sarcastic. Instead I put a lily onto the grave. It was beautiful and bright, but also unique and different. It wasn't easily recognisable because it didn't make an effort to fit in. He admired all these qualities about his mother. The lily also symbolised his sadness for her loss.
"Remember when you told me that lilies were your favourite, mum?" I asked quietly. Silence. "I listened." I slowly rose to my feet and stepped back. I looked up at my father, and he looked back at me. 'Save something' I found myself thinking. I just want him to say something, anything, to make the pain go away. But he didn't say anything, just took my hand and squeezed it tightly.
"You and I against the world, kid." He told me lightly, fighting to control the shake in his voice – but I still heard it.
And then, of course, things changed. Our master kept us on. But once my dad grew ill, I started slacking off my duties. I wanted to help him, because they wouldn't get him help right away. Once they had noticed my father was deathly ill… they threw us onto the streets. They didn't want another servant dying in the house, but they were content to throw us out.
My father was staying at the small hospital on the outskirts of town.
"You, boy," A gruff voice said. I looked up, exhausted. It was my sixteenth birthday, not that it mattered. I had been struggling to find work for a long time, but this world wasn't exactly accepting. I squinted through the grimy fog and pushed my brunette hair up and out of my face. The man was told and sharp with piercing eyes, and a cleanly shaven face. "I saw you here a few days ago with a man, where is he now?"
"My father?" I winced at how dry my voice sounded. "H-He's ill, I got him in a hospital."
"How can you afford a hospital?" He asked harshly, but with a hint of curiosity. I looked away slightly.
"I can't," I mumbled. "But I can't find work either. No-one will take a servant off the streets." I could feel him burning holes in me.
"'Servant'?" He questioned. I turned my head back, confused by his question. "Just now, you called yourself a servant. Why're you on the streets?"
"I have had many masters, each were cruel. Their sons did not take too kindly to me, they saw servants as the scum of the earth. I was the youngest servant there, so things never usually went well." As I said this I pushed my hair to the side, revealing a nasty cut above my eyebrow.
"I doubt you would have that problem at my mansion, we have two sons. One does not live with us anymore and the other insists on being polite to everyone, regardless of his social standing." I saw the man roll his eyes. I couldn't help but feel slightly hopeful. "I dislike training new servants, but if you are experienced and know your place then you can work for us." My eyes widened.
"A-Are you serious?" I spluttered in surprise. The man simply nodded once and gestured for me to follow him.
0000
I had been working for the Anderson family for half a year now and I'd barely made enough money to cover half of the hospital treatment. I walked into the room, ignoring the disgusted glances from the doctors who were forced to take care of my father. I lowered myself into the chair beside his bed, and he smiled.
"You seem to like it at the Anderson's mansion, Kurt." He spoke lightly. I smiled and nodded. In all honesty, it was better than any of our last work places – even if I sensed that Mr Anderson was still very strict. I had yet to meet either of the sons, one was not living at the mansion and the other just seemed too busy sometimes.
"How are you feeling, dad?" I asked, allowing the concern to show in my voice. He waved a hand weakly and chuckled.
"I am quite fine, not to worry."
"You know that I worry, I can't lose you," I said – surprisingly calmly. "Anyway… I'll eventually get your treatment paid for, you'll be OK." Dad looked at me and put a hand on my arm. He could tell that I was struggling with this.
"You will not lose me, Kurt," He tried to assure me. "Just remember one thing." He said. I looked him in the eyes. He was serious now. "Never settle for less than you deserve, settling means giving up. Promise me."
"I…" I started. "I promise…" I said hesitantly. We stayed like that together. It happened in slow motion, each agonising second ripping me to pieces. My world shattered and my thoughts blurred. Doctors and nurses filled the room as I felt the strength in my father's hand vanish. Tears sprang to my eyes for the first time since mother's funeral.
"I'm so sorry, dad," I mumble to myself frequently when I awake from the ghostly dreams of my father's disappointed expression. "I had to settle… I had no choice."
Notes: There we go! Please excuse any little mistakes, I just wanted to get this chapter up for you guys. I will be going back through this chapter and editing any little mistakes, it is just that I'd like you all to enjoy the chapter while I triple check for any mistakes.
Review please!