PROLOGUE

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Abandonment, betrayal, not feeling important, pity were all the emotions Sullivan felt at such a young tender age; she yearned for love and happiness from the ones who carries her, who made her, not the ones she got from her friends.

Although they filled in the hole of loneliness but it wasn’t just enough for her, she wanted more, she wanted the love of a parent.

   Sullivan’s lived her childhood in a little orphanage in Alcester a town in Warwickshire, England. She learnt she had been found by a Sister at the altar in one of the Catholic churches that existed at that time, covered in woolen linen, wrapped tightly in a little blue basket just for her size and a tag containing the name ‘Sullivan’ tied around her tiny neck with a piece yarn.

  She was mostly a silent child growing up in the midst of her peers at the orphanage. The facility served up to a 180 children despite their size, not many donations had been coming in at that time so the children were given jobs at the local farm to earn little money for their wellbeing. It was the same routine for Sullivan, starting the day at 5.am. It was always too early for her, wanting to sleep in like most of the other children but the caretakers would always wake them, pulling and tugging on their sheets until they succumb.

After school it was always work and work for Sullivan, raking, shoveling and packing in the Farm. She resented her parents a lot for abandoning her, for leaving her at such age to suffer in the society to face the wickedness of men of the world. Sulivan swore to not make the same error her Parents had made and to protect the little orphanages who made children labor for chicky money.
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Sullivan carries the crying baby in her arms, rocking her gently in different directions. Smiling down at her she pecks her nose in a soft kiss, singing to her a beautiful Lullaby.

‘Hush, little baby, don’t say a word

Mama’s gonna buy you a mockingbird

And if that mocking bird don’t sing

Mama’s gonna buy you a diamond ring

And if that diamond ring turns brass,

Mama’s gonna buy you a looking glass

And if that looking glass gets broke

Mama’s gonna buy you a Billy goat

And if that Billy goat don’t pull

Mama’s gonna buy you a dog named Rover

And if that dog named Rover won’t bark

Mama’s gonna buy you a horse and cart

And if that horse and cart fall down

Well, you’ll still be the sweetest little baby in town..

   Sullivan went on with the song smiling at each sentence until the baby’s cry reduced to a soft snore.

“Goodnight, Little Mary” She speaks in a hushed tone, afraid to wake her up from her slumber. Placing her in her sleeping bed, Sullivan gives her a peck on the forehead.

Sullivan stares at her little child with wonder and happiness. How could someone abandon this child? She questions herself. Are they no good people left in this world? She was instantly filled with anger for the world and the people living in it.

It was reported a little over a month of the findings of an abandoned baby in the Sewage, crying hopelessly and she knew just then she wanted to rather needed to take the child under her care, giving her the best she could. It was a bonus that she was being kept at one of the orphanages she was funding.

    The door bell rings sending it shilling sound throughout the apartment she lives, snapping her out of her thoughts, she jumps like she was electrocuted by series of wires.

‘Who could that be this late at night’ She wondered of the impossibility of someone visiting her at such late hours.

The door bell rings again, sending its tinny and grating sound once again.

“I’m coming” She cries out to the visitor at the front door “Just a moment, I’ll be with you”. She knew she looked improper to receive anyone for she had changed to her sleeping wear already. She takes her black blazer from her wardrobe door as she strides towards the door with long steps.

Of course it was Mr. Sam, the middle aged apartment’s doorman and a very good friend of hers. She had met him the day she moved in, he had been nice enough to help her move her luggage to her floor. Sullivan had felt something, a somewhat connection to the aged man when he spoke his first words to her.

‘Good day Miss Sullivan’ were his words, so deep and smooth.

“What may I do you for Mr. Sam” She smiles up to him, adjusting the middle of her blazer to cover up her assets.

“Sorry for the disturbance Sullivan, for I have come because of an urgent matter has seemed to present itself this evening” Concern filled her instantly of the thought of something bad happening. But one look at Sam’s face quickly dissolved at soon as it came for his face wasn’t one of pain or fear for his lips were stretched into a small smile.

“Why, Mr. Sam you speak of something urgent but your face fails to show such urgency” She speaks up, unable to understand what had caused this man to come to her this night.

“Apparently, a young gen had delivered a package and he stated its urgency for you to get this to you Sullivan”

“A package for me?” she wondered aloud. What could be so important for her to get this late at night? Sam hands her a brown box containing a tag at the forefront with the name ‘Sullivan’ written in black ink as she stares at it curiously. “A young lad you say? Did he perhaps tell you who had sent it?”

“No he did not, he seemed not to pose any opportunity for questioning as he left as soon as he came” Sam had not been expecting such package as she did this late at night, he was about to switch places with the night shifter so he could go home to his wife and kids when the young lad met him. He was rather shocked of the absurdity of the whole thing, it was already very late for someone as young as he to walk the roads at night. “I better get home to my wife for she had prepared a very warm chicken soup, prior to my coming”

“And I shall not keep you waiting my good sir.” Sam tips his cap in farewell, turning his back to the door as he strides out of the hall way.

   Sullivan was beyond curious of the content of the box. She of course knows of no one who would have sent a package to her at such late hours. It could be her foster parents she wondered; maybe it was not for she had seen them the previous night when she had gone for her monthly visit, perhaps it was so urgent that they could wait to see her again or then had forgotten to give her. Apparently she could not think of no one other than her foster parents for she had not bothered to keep contacts with her peers when she left the orphanage or graduated from college.

   Inside the box was not what she had expected a book so old and worn out lay inside the big space in the box. Its leather already flaking its coat, its pages brown like carton, for she could feel some of its papers falling on to her hands.

What took her by surprise were the three words which lay in soft cursive hand writing at the front page.

      ‘WORDS FOR SULLIVAN’

Words for Sullivan (not edited)Where stories live. Discover now