It was one o'clock in the morning, and the bedroom was so dark that Margaret could not see the back of her hand; should she dare lift it from under the thin comforter. If she woke her husband and he knew how she lay awake at night, he might keep her at home during the day to rest. She could not, would not, let that happen. After being bedridden for three years with only her books to keep her company, to walk, run, and travel around the city was her life. To be forced to stay at home would give her no reason to be happy. As sleep finally began to close in on her, she thought briefly about the novel she had written when she had read all the books in the library. She had not told a soul about it; even her husband didn't know that she had finished it.
YOU ARE READING
Charms Of Silence
General FictionA story that I have been working on for a long time, very slowly. It is completely fictional, but the idea came from Margret Mitchell's life.
