Lost In Love

Chapter 1 - Me, myself and I

I often think about my actions in first, second and third person, as if I were writing a book; Ivy did this, she walked over there, I sang softly to the birds. I enjoy reading books, preferably classic books like "To Kill A Mockingbird" or "Moby Dick." If I had to pick a favourite it would have to be "Jane Eyre" it's written perfectly, Charlotte Brontë clearly has an eye for talent. I myself have written scraps of story on bits of old newspaper that I keep getting muddled up, I can never keep them in order and since those fuzzy diaries cost one Shilling I'm stuck at square one. I live with my Father and my Beagle, Jess, she turned up one day sick and injured with a gash across her lower leg. My Father wanted to get rid of the 'mutt' as he called her, I refused to kill her so I hid her in my room for several weeks sneaking in scraps of dinner and the occasional dog biscuit now and then. He eventually found out since she was just a wee pup when I found her laying wounded in the hay. She was starting to get older and that meant, more exercise, bigger appetite and of course she got bigger, she was very quiet but she started barking when I left for school after the Summer holidays. My father was never fond of Jess, at first, he was angry at me, he kept her locked in the shed for days. I wept every night until one night I snuck in the shed, and who can blame me? It was snowing outside for heaven's sake! She usually met me with barking and licks, which usually ended up with a bath afterwards. This time it was different though, she was silent, she didn't run up to greet me, she didn't bark, and I didn't even need a bath yet. I walked around the bales to where she usually slept at night. She was gone. I still remember it to this day, The whimpers and the squeals that came from outside, still in my nightdress I ran outside and the snow hurt my bare feet and I started to shiver. There she was, A bullet through the leg, there was blood everywhere, I watched as the thick, red, blood seeped into the now scary, red, snow. I screamed for help until I couldn't breathe, I cried until I ran out of tears and my eyes stung, I already had a cold that day so just my luck, I caught Pneumonia. I remember my father running out, the neighbours gathering, the vet running over and half the class was there through all the commotion. I don't remember anything after that apart from everything going black and I started to feel dizzy, the next minute, I was face to face with Jess's pained face. The next thing I remember was waking up apparently 3 days later according to the doctor, I remember my dad rushing over and comforting me, telling me Jess was going to be okay, and that she could live in the house, he was ecstatic about my recovery. My father was, and still is the most stubborn person in the Village, but he'd do anything for his little girl. That was four years ago, now I'm eleven, twelve next month, and Jess is four and a bit, from what the vet worked out anyway. I love Jess to bits, she's my only friend since my mother passed away when I was five, I still talk to her every night though, she listens, I'm sure of it. After my mother passed away I became depressed, my friends abandoned me because I wasn't fun anymore, I suppose I could count Carl the Butcher as my friend, he was always nice to me and more often than not gave Jess scraps of meat. Most people describe me in weird ways, the boys often sigh and say "that's just a whole lot'a pretty in a whole lot'a crazy." I can defend myself easily though, for a girl I'm tough, I once knocked a guy unconscious because he insulted my mother. Valid, he didn't know about that since he was new but in my defence I had an adrenaline rush. The one place I can go and forget about it all is the old weeping willow by the crystal clear lake surrounded by rye fields. I have a fond memory of me and my mother running hand in hand through the golden fields with my father huffing behind us trying to keep up. I haven't seen my father smile since the day I lost my mother. I don't like saying the D-word, I prefer to think that she's just gone down to the market and she'd gotten lost, or out for a swim in the lake, I hardly ever visit her grave, it makes me shake uncontrollably and cry my eyes out, oh I do wish she'd have taken a map, so then maybe she wouldn't have gotten lost. I am not stupid, I do know that she is not coming back but it makes me feel a bit better about it.

________________________
Let me know if you like this and want me to continue,
remember to:

-Vote
-Comment
-Follow

Thanks!

P.S I'm thinking of erasing this story, I've got writer's block on the first chapter.