The first real chapter of my first story! I'm so excited I could yell! But that would freak out my mom, as it is 1:00 at night. However, I know that the greatest works are created when the author is half asleep but can't go to bed because he/she is so devoted to their story. Once again reviews are welcome, flames are not. It takes a great a confident writer to accept flames in stride and I am neither one of those. I do own this entire story and all of its characters because I am not experienced enough to incorporate existing characters into a story with fear of messing up their entire personalities and having an angry mob hunt me down. Please enjoy!
PS- does anyone else have trouble with the tab key when editing their story on here? Its really infuriating... well maybe not that but it is kinda annoying not having of the wonderful indent like in word. Or is that just the grammar freak making her appearance?
I discovered my life's ambition when I was twelve years old. The circumstances that lead me to this revelation were not difficult. I was a plain and ignorant child from a well-off family and had little experience with the world, a circumstance that I was impatient to change. My mother was disappointed in my appearance and never hesitated to inform me of this unavoidable fact. My father on the other hand had no just reason for disliking me. He already had a smart, talented, healthy and handsome son to take over his estate once he passed, and a second son would only create competition within the family. Arguments among ones posterity usually would be considered painful and to be avoided at all costs. So, with this logic, I made a promise to myself to never let my father's incongruous reasoning trouble me. So to a child that had been told that she will never amount to anything, I decided to take advantage of my social position and family connections to create a better life for myself. At the age of twelve, however, one has little opportunity of reaching out into society for assistance, so I made a pledge to myself to learn as much as I could and store away this priceless knowledge for a time when I could better use it.
In my thirteenth year, my unfortunate and discouraged mother passed away. I must give you a background to my mother's life that I am afraid I have failed to inform you of. My mother was my father's second wife and the wife he married for love, or more correctly, pleasure. After all ready marrying a rich noblewoman and raising one son, Andrew, my father decided that it was his right to find a wife that would take care of his manly needs, rather than increase his social standing. In a manner reserved for rakes and other disreputable men, my father visited many courtesans and picked his new bride from the jewels of London. He picked my mother, then Mistress Stalwart, not just for her beauty, but the immense envy that he would receive from her married customers. Mysteriously enough, my father was not criticized for picking a fallen woman for a wife. In fact, he soon because the private hero of many among the gentry and noble class. He was the perfect picture of happiness, a young and beautiful wife, a handsome child and enormous wealth. His life was perfect until I was born. To his and my mother's displeasure, I inherited the dreaded Scottish qualities from my father's side of the family. Since the day I was born, I was cursed with the infamous flaming Scottish red hair, wild freckles and a temper to match. In short, I was a direct opposite of my mother's perfect English Rose looks. My father never forgave me for being born with such unfortunate looks and therefore treated me with the little respect he felt I deserved and my mother felt it was her sin for bearing such a misfortunate child. Though I would never have told it to her personally, and luckily she passed on so I don't live with the guilt from not telling her, her sins from her earlier life finally caught up to her and she was forced to live with the unhappiness of living with something that was not complete beauty.
On my part, I probably should have marked my birth mother death to some degree of mourning, but her loss only signified a new stage in my life, one of complete freedom and days that weren't filled with trying to live up to my mother's beauty. That summer I graduated from damsel in distress to full-fledged squire. My brother and I explored every part of my father's estate. Our horses became our battle ready steeds and the ancient willow tree became the best armory in the land. Though we rarely escaped the daily battles with little less than a few dozen scratches, Andrew's unswerving loyalty to me gave me the confidence I was denied by my parents. Seven years my senior, he was as close to a loving parent I had ever had and my only true friend. That fall he left for school, but first gave me a knight's promise that he would return at every chance he got. After he left, I began to count down the days until he would return on holiday break.
During the months that Andrew was at school, I devoted myself to my studies, completely immersing myself into the knowledge previously only granted to boys. Knowledge became my true treasure and I would spend hours at a time with the old tutor studying about far off-worlds that I desperately wanted to go to. I romanticized exotic countries like India and Morocco, wishing secretly to myself how I would risk anything to go there. However, closer countries like the lands of my ancestors also became destinations of dreams. The untamed wilderness of Scotland and Norway became realistic destinations that I dreamed about every night. Desperately wishing to know more of my ancestor's homeland, I gathered up an enormous amount of courage to ask my father if a trip would be possible.
My father's study had always been a place of terror. My brother and I had mistakenly ventured into his private sanctuary a few years ago and been confronted with my father's shouting and huge frame. He quickly pushed out the two of us and slammed the door so loudly that it threatened to split apart in the middle. Since that fateful day, the study was always a room to hastily run from when crossing the hall. Only the possibility of a faraway adventure kept my feet walking steadily as a crossed to the forbidden room. Opening the door to his study slowly and softly, I tiptoed across the cold hardwood floor until I had reached my father's desk, not daring to breathe for fear of calling attention to myself and unleashing a monster.
After what seemed like lifetimes, I managed to get out a weak "Umm f-father?" I nearly fainted when my father wheeled around, grief contorting his face into that of a beast.
"WHAT THE DEVIL DO YOU WANT CHILD?" he belted, abruptly standing to his towering six foot height.
"I wanted to know… well that is I wanted to ask about Scotland, sir", I replied meekly, all my knight courage and valor deserting me in the blink of an eye. "I want to go there".
My father gave me a quick look that had the power to bring any grown man to his knees, and then frowned at me in disappointment. "Don't ask about such stupid things, child. You keep out of my way until you can prove to me that you have some amount of worth. Why are you so worthless? A girl can never amount to anything!"
Tears began forming in my eyes but the fury growing inside of me was too great to suppress. "I'LL PROVE TO YOU THAT ALL OF WHAT YOU AND MOTHER SAID WAS WRONG! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO JUDGE ME! IT IS YOU WHO HAVE NO WORTH, NOT ME!"
I ran from the room and into the back garden, my anger blinding me from all visible objects. Collapsing on the ground, I let out one huge sob, then quietly curled into a small ball and listened to the birds calling to each other. I envied birds. I envied their spirit and their ability to sign beautifully without any care in the world. Then I remembered what the preacher had spoken of about angels in church that Sunday. Though I couldn't remember his exact words (church was horridly boring when all you were assured was eternal damnation and an unredeemable life) I recalled that angels were the messengers of God, sent to provide the only good tidings that seem to make it into the holy book. Birds and angels were really not so different. They both spoke beautifully and I'm sure if I could speak the language of the birds, they both would assure me that something good was fast approaching in my life, all I had to do was wait.
A week later, something good did happen. My father, destitute from the loss of his beloved wife and envy of the entire London ton, left in the dead of night without a word of his next location. The entire household was in extreme confusion to where he could possible go. This seemed to me an unnecessary question. No doubt his travels would first take him to the numerous beds of the disreputable in London, but no child was expected to know this adult and horribly sinful knowledge. However I would not be the first to complain of his leaving so suddenly. With my final boundary gone, I was truly free. No adult would look upon me with content or disappointment. I was free to make my own decisions and set the course of my own destiny.
Please, please review! It's really not that hard! Any advice, suggestions and improvements for the story or my writing style are greatly appreciated. I'm kinda just writing this on the fly with no prior planning at all!