Hello everyone, first off, I deeply apologize for posting and taking down and all the confusion. The story I had going, Set Me Free, I had taken down to edit and fix a lot of errors then ended up losing the whole story. Then this story I was a bit frustrated with because of writer's block, insecurity about if it was doing well or not and lack of feedback and reviews. I don't like putting a lot of work into something and not get at least a few reviews of either positive or negative feedback. I am not the best writer so I don't mind correction as long as you're not rude, no one likes that :) I decided to give it one more try. If the first few chapters go well, I will consider finishing the story. Thanks to those who do read and review :) I have come to the conclusion that an alarm is the most annoying invention ever,
Thanks to those who do read and review :)
I have come to the conclusion that an alarm is the most annoying invention ever,I thought as my hand searched around the table to stop the obnoxious blaring noise. When I finally found it I fought the urge to throw the whole thing across the room. Yet instead, I calmly turned it off and lazily stayed in bed until my mind adjusted to the scenery around me. Sunlight shown through the pale blue curtains, dancing onto the walls around me, reminding me that today was a new day. It also reminded me that I had to get up so I actually had time to make breakfast before I had to go into work. I turned and looked at the clock. Seven fifteen. Really? Didn't I just lie down? I thought bitterly as I pulled my sleepy body out from underneath the warm covers. I remember when I was younger I couldn't wait for the sun to come up so I could eat breakfast and hurry outside to explore for an adventure. I never thought I'd get rid of that energy, now I'm twenty two and wishing I still had it.
I finally got my lazy self out of bed and stretched long and hard then looked into the mirror on the dresser in front of me. One thing that hasn't changed about me was the fact that my hair always looked like a tornado went through it in the morning. I quickly ran through the mess with a hairbrush and debated whether it would be worth the effort to try to make it look nice. I decided a fairly nice bun would work for today. Nobody around that place cares anyway and they've seen me in worse conditions.
I work at a small store in Jenkinsville, Arkansas called Mrs. May's Clothing Store, right down the street from Bergen's Department Store. I started working there when I was nineteen. May is a petite older lady in her fifties with salt and pepper hair, light blue eyes and was known for her bright smile and great sense of style. Though many people around that town disagree with her views, they still shop at her store because it just happens to be the best in town.
William Beyer, her husband, is a tall man, also in his fifties, with brown-gray hair, hazel eyes and was known to be a man of few words but also a man who has a gentle spirit and a kind heart. He's a hard working farmer and does his best to support himself and his wife. They moved here from Tennessee shortly after the loss of their sixteen year old son, who tragically fell in the middle of the road and collided with a speeding truck.
The Beyer's came to Jenkinsville in hopes of starting a new beginning, even though May cannot have any more children due to a rough birth from her first pregnancy. Ruth met her at one of the food markets. She noticed the sadness in the woman's eyes and told her that no matter what was going on, she should keep a smile on her face because the Lord always works things out for our good. May appreciated the encouragement and the two women, despite racial differences, quickly became friends.
Shortly after their meeting, Ruth introduced me. I remember how nervous I was. I was only sixteen and everyone was still spreading rumors about me and what I did. I was nervous that they were going to react the same way everyone did when they found out. Yet all they did was welcome me with open arms. I too became fast friends with them both. They're the few people, besides Ruth and Sharon, who accepted me and didn't care about what I'd done.
When I was nineteen, I stopped working at Harry's store. I'd worked there for as long as I could remember but one thing led to another and I couldn't stand to look at one more scar. On my nineteenth birthday, May offered me a job at her clothing store she'd just opened. It was the best birthday present ever. From then on I saved everything I got and by the time I turned twenty, I had enough to buy my first house. Well not really a house, more of small cottage, but it was perfectly fine with me. The previous lady who lived there moved out due to her getting married. She was more than happy to get rid of it.
It wasn't much. There's one bedroom with my bed with a light blue and white comforter, a dresser with a mirror on top, and nightstand next to my bed with a small lamp, alarm clock and a picture of my sister and I. Also inside the bedroom is a bathroom with a vanity, tub, shower, and toilet. Nothing fancy but it fits me. Outside my room, a small kitchen with just enough room for a table and beyond that a medium size living room with a couch and a desk beside a window halfway looking out onto a big field and a tall apple tree on the side of the house. That's my favorite place to sit, read, write and think. Outside the house, there's a porch with a swing that is about to give out. I take a risk every time I sit on that thing.
That's pretty much it. As I said, it's not much but its home and it's a lot more peaceful than that other horrid place I was living in. I shivered. I didn't even want to think about it anymore. It's done and it's over with. Time to move on. Too bad that's easier said than done. It's not easy when everyone insist on bringing up old history. You'd think ten years people would finally put the past to rest. Well not in this town. I still have my label as a traitor and as Harry Bergen's no good Nazi lovin' rebellious teenager.
Some days are easier than others. There are times I'm quite proud of what I'd done for my dear friend. Then there are other times I think about what I'd done if I hadn't run out and grabbed that POW's hand. Would life be simpler if I hadn't done it? Would I not have earned all these scars and not be so hated by so many people? Was it really worth it?
I sighed and shook my head. Enough thinking, Patty, don't get on that roller coaster, I scolded myself. On bit of a brighter side, you've moved on. You have a good job, a few good friends and a roof over your head. Stop dwelling on things you can't change. It's over. Right?
I took a final look in my mirror and decided I looked good enough. Not much has changed about my appearance. A plain loose dress was good enough to go to work in. I would stick with overalls but May says I look like I'm fixing to work in the garden rather than a clothing store. I glanced at the clock and noticed that more time had passed. See what happens when I think too much?
I made my way into the kitchen and popped some bread into the toaster. Then I went to the refrigerator and poured a cup of orange juice. As I sat down to eat, a loud noise from under the table jolted me out of my daze. I looked down to investigate what made the strange noise and discovered that it was only my cat, Moose. Moose is a lazy, loving brown tabby I adopted from the Beyer's. There had been a litter of kittens and all had been given away except that one. I remembered how Harry had been so strict about not having any animals. So when I had the chance to have a pet, I took it. Moose earned his name when he decided his favorite toy was a little stuffed moose my grandmother had given me when I was younger. He went a couple days being called Kitty because I couldn't come up with a creative name. When I noticed his odd selection in favorite toys, I started calling him Moose and from then on, the name stuck.
"What do you want?" I asked stupidly.
"Meow." He replied and gave me a look that said I knew exactly what he wanted. Breakfast, of course. I got up from my place and he monitored my every move. "What am I, your slave?" I asked the curious cat looking at me. Once again he replied with a meow which made me giggle as I poured his food.
I looked at the clock and saw that I had ten minutes left. I flopped down on the lumpy couch and my mind decided to start racing again. I grabbed my head in a lame attempt to stop it. There were so many things going through my head I couldn't settle on one thing. I felt like I was going insane. I felt a semi heavy ball of fur jump up into my lap and curl up comfortably beside me.
"Let's look up the definition of Insane, shall we?" I said as I picked up the dictionary on the other side of me. When I turned to the page, I read aloud some of the definitions. "Not sane, not of sound mind, mentally deranged. Utterly senseless." I closed the book and scratched the purring feline behind the ears. "What do you think, Moose? Is this all I'll ever grow up to be? An old insane Nazi loving cat lady?" I asked more to myself, which he still responded with a quiet meow and continued to purr. Can't say I blame him though, he was probably right.
I glanced at the clock again and saw that it was finally time to go. I carefully moved the lazy cat off my lap, who protested and glared at me. "Don't give me that look. I have to work for your food." I defended myself and I could've sworn I saw him roll his eyes.
I made sure everything was in its place then took one more look around the place. "Time for another day." I whispered and shut the door behind me.
So there's the first chapter. Like I said, this is just background info so far. Reviews are welcome and appreciated. :)