Well, part one of chapter one. The actual name of this 'book' is Tales of Tyronaya (or, book one - Tyronaya's Childhood), but as I've said, I only write it when I'm bored. Well, peeps, I'm bored. A LOT. So I've been writing. A LOT. Hope you like it.
Anemone was a young wife at eighteen years, and then a young widow a year later. She did not know how she could raise a child alone, but somehow, she did. She sold off Brenton’s land to the first bid and took Tyronaya to live with her in her four-roomed house. She sold her own land, all but the two acres that the house stood on, and took a job as a seamstress.
Tyronaya grew quickly, haunting Anemone with the memory of her selfish wish that, in her mind, had killed her brother. The girl’s first tooth came in, she took her first steps, and soon started running about the house screaming “Annie!” at the top of her lungs. But hardest of all was the question, which came at age four. “Annie, do I have a mommy or a daddy?”
Anemone drew the child into her lap, choosing her words carefully as she twisted Tyronaya’s hair in her fingers. Her black tresses had refused to attain a more cooperative part, and the little girl’s hair constantly fell into her face. Anemone tucked as much of it as she could behind Tyronaya’s right ear, and began braiding the remainder in front of her left ear. “There was a time when you had both, baby,” she said finally.
“Where ‘dey at?”
“A place where they don’t feel any pain, or longing, or sadness,” Anemone answered without conviction, but with a trace of wistfulness. She did not know if heaven was true, but she hoped there was a similar place.
She wound a leather strip around the end of the braid and Tyronaya twisted in her lap, turning her bright green eyes on her aunt with a curious look. “You, me, we go dere.”
She did not ask. She demanded. It was soft, but it was unquestionably a demand. “You, me, we go dere,” she repeated, pressing her face against Anemone’s shoulder and wrapping her chubby arms around her waist. “We go he-ven; we go see Mommy and Daddy.”
Anemone hugged her in return with a murmured, “Absolutely, baby girl.” Her thoughts wandered, again, to Brenton. He never saw his daughter’s eyes change from their birth blue to their current green. He never listened to her innocent, childish logic. He never heard her laugh, or even cry. He never got to tuck her in, or go to her in the middle of the night when she screamed.
Although, as of late, Anemone had been the one screaming in her sleep.
There; it's only a snippet, but this is where the scene break is, so I figured this is what I'd post. Thanks for reading!