Yesterday I stumbled upon an old file containing a novel I had been working on years ago; you know the kind, the one inspired by your awkward teenage life, and your infatuation with Werewolves and magic.
It’s that story with all it’s mystical charm, but it’s also the one that needs so much work…
Today I have decided to share the Beginning of this story, and I desperately would love your feedback. Should I fight for this teenage, adventure love story, or should I place the file neatly back in it’s folder to collect virtual dust.
I have posted the first short chapter on Wattpad. You be the judge.
Feel free to comment your feedback.
Finding Evee More Chapter One Beginnings
I realize that not everyone has Wattpad so I have pasted a copy of the story here.
I stared down at the ugly crest hill academy logo staring up at me. It was indeed no doubt the same logo of the dreadful place I was to arrive to in the next three hours.
But I couldn’t blame anyone, not even Bill or Wanda, only myself, because after all it was my choice and I had agreed to it.
Wanda my sweet, loving, foster mother thought me unearthly quiet for a girl my age.
Okay, so I admit that I was almost 15 and never had anyone of the same age to call my friend. It was probably just my luck to be the only friendless teenager in the world. Everyone had someone but not me. I was born to be a loner.
The fact that I was home schooled didn’t help any either. And because I didn’t take to people as quickly as others Wanda came up with the brilliant solution to send me off to boarding school. A place where I could be surrounded 24/7 by a bunch of loud, obnoxious pimple faced teens.
I couldn’t bear to see my loving– over protective— parents worry so I’d convinced myself along with them that it would be a good idea that I’d go, that I needed the experience, and being around people my own age would help me to become more social.
Of course what I said was all lies but I didn’t want to let her and Bill down. They were always worried about me. Besides Bill and Wanda needed some alone time, away from me–the grumpy, moody, confused, teenager that no one wanted to be around—-and going to a boarding school 3 hours away, would definitely be a good way for them to get some. Maybe now they could take that vacation to Paris they always dreamed of.
My parents really were the greatest —no kid could ask for any parents more loving or understanding–it wasn’t their fault that I turned out to be so gauche and stubborn—the only problem was….. that they weren’t my own.
I sighed and picked up the old rusted chain that held the last memory in existence of my actual birth parents. The one object I held most dear. I unclasped the locket that revealed the two smiling faces of my mom—who was my mirror image, and dad with the same young, handsome, curious look he always had in that picture. He looked like the type that broke every girls fragile beating heart with just the twinkle of his dark eyes or the flash of his bright smile.
I always wondered who this man was, that’s why it always pained me to know that neither of my parents cared so they abandoned me. They may have forgotten me but that didn’t mean that I had forgotten them.
Bill and Wanda say I was adopted from an orphanage in England when I was only two years old and that the only thing I had was a tattered photograph and a long thin scar on my left forearm. Souvenirs of my past life.
I traced the faint scar lightly, a habit, something I did whenever it came to mind. No one knew how I had got the scar not even my previous caretakers, for as long as they knew it had always been there. The strange thing was, was that it never went away.
“Evee darling, are you ready, Bill’s in the car, you know how your father is when you make him wait!”
“Coming mom,” I yelled slipping the rusted locket around my neck and in my shirt.
I stuffed the last of the ugly gray, blue and black uniforms in my duffle bag, took one last look at the small lavender room I had called mine for the past 14 years of my life and was on my way out not knowing that I was to never return.
“Evee,” Wanda called again.
I sighed. “Coming,” I called shutting the door, then jogging down the hall and steps to meet her at the bottom.
She looked over me worried. “There you are, I was beginning to think you had changed your mind.” She stepped back to give me an appraising look, while tugging determinedly at the collar of my uniform and skirt.
“Wanda,” I sighed. “I’m not three anymore.”
She smiled sadly and ran a hand through my long, dark, curly hair, before resting it at her side. “Almost 15 years old, sometimes I forget how old you are and how much you’ve grown.”
If five feet is what you call grown, I thought sourly. I was nearly 15 years old and still had to ask for someone to get me the cereal. Ridiculous.
My long hair didn’t make me look any older either but I didn’t dare cut it I was too afraid because I didn’t know how I’d look.
A car horn honked impatiently. “That would be Bill.” “Come on” I said leading the way to door reiterating what she said, “you know Bill doesn’t like to wait.”
Bill was a restless person, who could never sit still without doing something for more than five minutes. That’s why it amazed me that he agreed to drive all the way there. I stopped a moment in the doorway to catch a glimpse of Bill waiting as patiently as he possibly could behind the wheel of his silver SUV. I smiled I was going to miss him.
“Took you long enough,” he greeted as I slid onto the backseat next to the rest of my things.
“Sorry Bill,” I chimed.
“It’s okay kid”. And that was the end of that.
Me and Bill weren’t bitter with each other, but he, like I just wasn’t much for words. Any conversations we shared were usually meaningful but nevertheless always brisk.Wanda locked up and got in,and the journey began.
We drove slowly past the homes of our neighbors in the suburban community of Hillsborough San Francisco. A place I had become most familiar with, seeing that it had been my home for all the years I could remember, but what awaited me at my new destination in Black Oak Grove was something I didn’t know or expect.
I watched as the only place I’d ever remembered calling home drift away behind me and become a small dot. I would never see that place again.
2 thoughts on “Flash Into The Past”
This was one of my favorite stories of yours.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank You! It was once mines too, but it requires so much fixing!