Part One - Chapter One

3.2K 49 43

Tears of a Bluebird

By: Ashleigh N.M Conway

Part One - 1952

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Part Two - 1953

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Part Three 1954/55

Chapter One

Chapter Two - The Beginning

Everything in this book is entirely fictional. Any resemblance of any place/name used within this book happens to be coincidental. The rights to this book belong to me and only me.

For my dad and my sister Victoria. Thank you for all the things you've both given me in life; a shelter above my head when the storms brewed, arms around my shoulders when in doubt and hands to always pick me back up again.     Until the end.

                        If my tears could build a stairway

                              And my memory a lane,

                        I would walk right up to Heaven

                             And bring you home again

                                                           - Papa Duce

Part One - 1952

Chapter One

They say that if you look deep into a child's eyes, moments after they are born, then you can see into their soul. I believed them, for holding the very essence of new born life itself can only be described as incredulous. When you look upon a child – whether it be a new born, an infant or even a teenager – your mind seems to go into a sense of wonder. A trance, it may seem.

Looking at them, you begin to think, "What goes on inside their little minds?" You realise how their bodies are growing and slowly maturing. You notice how some of them haven’t started adulthood yet, or gained their rightful eye colour or even their adult teeth.

For example you can look out of your window and there a child will be, happily playing, happily taking life as it comes. Ever since I was a child I always told myself that normal children are reared in happy environments, where they take life as it comes naively; even blissfully. But I was never the normal type. Mother had told me this countless times before. For I, Molly Taylor, daughter of Sir Nicholas C. Taylor, was of a greater class and I was forbidden to pity or even as much as to acknowledge such peasants.

I soon realised that these so called peasants from the Bogs were in actuality the happier ones than my class, for behind closed doors my class were the true piteous ones. I supposed that it was was due to my hapless upbringing which made me despise mother so much, for I had always done so. I knew if anything that deep down I was terrified of mother. Perhaps it was mother who made me sin in the first place.

Tears of a BluebirdWhere stories live. Discover now