Post by Deleted on Jun 17, 2017 15:28:50 GMT -5
#ooc a little something to set up my series/story. hope you enjoy
#THELOSTCHILD 1.0
London, England [2000]
She’d been standing in the shadows all afternoon, watching the kids play. It was a sunny day, which was a nice change. Every now and then, her eyes fell to one girl who was sitting on a bench. She didn’t play with the others, or even go as far as acknowledge them. Her long mousy brown hair was falling in her face as she read a thick book.
One of the kids tried to get her attention, but she wouldn’t even go as far as raising her head, instead mumbling a no and turned her attention back to her written words.
“She’s so pretty.” The woman in the shadows said, almost jumping at the sound of her own voice.
“You have to stop coming here. I would hate to call the police.”
The second voice was darker, obviously belonging to a male. She slowly turned around, with her heart beating in her throat, to face him, her pale face halfway hidden in the shadows.
“But, I had to see if she is alright, Arthur… .”
“No. We talked about this several times now; you left her on a park bench on a winter morning and that was when you lost your right to know anything about her. Elena is not an easy kid, and should she ever spot you -- Margaret -- she will probably try to stab you.”
The female's shoulders sunk. Every word he had just said was true, but he knew very little of her reasons in the end. How could she have taken care of a baby? Fifteen, kicked out of home and knee deep in outrageous problems? It seemed like the right thing to do.
I always thought about her.
When she stepped out into the sun, it was hard to deny the similarity -- at least, of a grown up Elena many years in the future. Wrinkles of many sleepless nights were visible on the woman’s forehead, and dark eyes were so intense that it was hard to look away. She locked eyes with the elder man in this traditional tweed suit.
“Has anyone tried to adopt her?”
“You know very well I can’t tell you that.” He answered. His voice swung with authority. “Let’s just say that she is rather stubborn.”
A proud smile formed on the face of Margaret. Her girl grew up to be a fighter, something she had always hoped for. The man stepped closer, so they were merely two inches away from each other. His hand rested on her shoulder when he gave a soft smile.
“She will be okay, no matter what life throws at her. But that is the last time I will warn you off. You cannot come back. It would be too risky for all of us.”
With a heavy heart she nodded. One more look over her shoulder towards the small girl, burning her features into her mind. This was indeed the last time, for a very long while, that she would see her.
London, England [2011]
The big light in the apartment was turned off, the only light source coming from a small lamp on a desk. The rain outside tapped against the window. A typical English scenario. She could have never left this place, no matter what bad memories existed. This was home, and Margaret Elizabeth Edwards knew this with a painful certainty.
The smell in the apartment was fresh. Everything was where it belonged. She always had a certain sense for cleanness. Some would say it was an obsession. And while she often enough was found looking somewhat messy, same never occurred for her belongings.
Her wild hair was put together in a tight knot, but one of her locks fell haphazardly in her face. Looking back down at the piece of paper, she tried to focus. The pen in her hand slightly shook when she set it against the paper. She heard a scratching noise as she began to write.
Letter Number 21.
"My darling Elena,
It's been so many years since I watched you playing on a bench, forced to watch you from a distance. Even worse, it’s been much longer than when I left you to be cared for in ways that I would never be able to. I hoped that you would be able to forgive me when I saw you again, especially when I only intended for you to find a better home. Perhaps even a better life. I tried to forget you, to forget that I even had a little girl, but then I saw your precocious face again on the tele, and I couldn't help but pay attention..."
Margaret stopped, reading over it once again before putting the pen back to paper. She had written so many times to her daughter. So many thoughts had been brought to paper, yet not one had ever been sent, likely out of fear -- or even better: out of shame. In the end, it was mostly because she had no right to be part of her life, and she knew that. Letting out a heavy sigh, she added a few more words.
“... I am proud of the woman you have become. Talented and strong, and even more charismatic than I ever would have been able to raise you to be. It might not mean anything to you, but there is someone out there that thinks of you in every waking moment of their day. She hopes to one day look in your eyes and will have the chance to tell you her side of the story. And maybe, perhaps then, you may be able to forgive me. I will hope for this to come. Maybe not today, but soon. As soon as I can get the courage to right my mistakes.
Till then, all the love in the world,
Your mother.”
She slipped the letter inside the envelope, closing it. With a decisive flick, she turned off the light and rose to her feet. Moving in the dark towards one of her cabinets, she sighed as she opened the largest drawer. A pack of more letters rested neatly within, all having a different colour and number. And all sealed. She kissed her most recent addition and put it on top.
“One day my Elena Jean Edwards.”
#THELOSTCHILD 1.0
London, England [2000]
She’d been standing in the shadows all afternoon, watching the kids play. It was a sunny day, which was a nice change. Every now and then, her eyes fell to one girl who was sitting on a bench. She didn’t play with the others, or even go as far as acknowledge them. Her long mousy brown hair was falling in her face as she read a thick book.
One of the kids tried to get her attention, but she wouldn’t even go as far as raising her head, instead mumbling a no and turned her attention back to her written words.
“She’s so pretty.” The woman in the shadows said, almost jumping at the sound of her own voice.
“You have to stop coming here. I would hate to call the police.”
The second voice was darker, obviously belonging to a male. She slowly turned around, with her heart beating in her throat, to face him, her pale face halfway hidden in the shadows.
“But, I had to see if she is alright, Arthur… .”
“No. We talked about this several times now; you left her on a park bench on a winter morning and that was when you lost your right to know anything about her. Elena is not an easy kid, and should she ever spot you -- Margaret -- she will probably try to stab you.”
The female's shoulders sunk. Every word he had just said was true, but he knew very little of her reasons in the end. How could she have taken care of a baby? Fifteen, kicked out of home and knee deep in outrageous problems? It seemed like the right thing to do.
I always thought about her.
When she stepped out into the sun, it was hard to deny the similarity -- at least, of a grown up Elena many years in the future. Wrinkles of many sleepless nights were visible on the woman’s forehead, and dark eyes were so intense that it was hard to look away. She locked eyes with the elder man in this traditional tweed suit.
“Has anyone tried to adopt her?”
“You know very well I can’t tell you that.” He answered. His voice swung with authority. “Let’s just say that she is rather stubborn.”
A proud smile formed on the face of Margaret. Her girl grew up to be a fighter, something she had always hoped for. The man stepped closer, so they were merely two inches away from each other. His hand rested on her shoulder when he gave a soft smile.
“She will be okay, no matter what life throws at her. But that is the last time I will warn you off. You cannot come back. It would be too risky for all of us.”
With a heavy heart she nodded. One more look over her shoulder towards the small girl, burning her features into her mind. This was indeed the last time, for a very long while, that she would see her.
●●●●●●
London, England [2011]
The big light in the apartment was turned off, the only light source coming from a small lamp on a desk. The rain outside tapped against the window. A typical English scenario. She could have never left this place, no matter what bad memories existed. This was home, and Margaret Elizabeth Edwards knew this with a painful certainty.
The smell in the apartment was fresh. Everything was where it belonged. She always had a certain sense for cleanness. Some would say it was an obsession. And while she often enough was found looking somewhat messy, same never occurred for her belongings.
Her wild hair was put together in a tight knot, but one of her locks fell haphazardly in her face. Looking back down at the piece of paper, she tried to focus. The pen in her hand slightly shook when she set it against the paper. She heard a scratching noise as she began to write.
Letter Number 21.
"My darling Elena,
It's been so many years since I watched you playing on a bench, forced to watch you from a distance. Even worse, it’s been much longer than when I left you to be cared for in ways that I would never be able to. I hoped that you would be able to forgive me when I saw you again, especially when I only intended for you to find a better home. Perhaps even a better life. I tried to forget you, to forget that I even had a little girl, but then I saw your precocious face again on the tele, and I couldn't help but pay attention..."
Margaret stopped, reading over it once again before putting the pen back to paper. She had written so many times to her daughter. So many thoughts had been brought to paper, yet not one had ever been sent, likely out of fear -- or even better: out of shame. In the end, it was mostly because she had no right to be part of her life, and she knew that. Letting out a heavy sigh, she added a few more words.
“... I am proud of the woman you have become. Talented and strong, and even more charismatic than I ever would have been able to raise you to be. It might not mean anything to you, but there is someone out there that thinks of you in every waking moment of their day. She hopes to one day look in your eyes and will have the chance to tell you her side of the story. And maybe, perhaps then, you may be able to forgive me. I will hope for this to come. Maybe not today, but soon. As soon as I can get the courage to right my mistakes.
Till then, all the love in the world,
Your mother.”
She slipped the letter inside the envelope, closing it. With a decisive flick, she turned off the light and rose to her feet. Moving in the dark towards one of her cabinets, she sighed as she opened the largest drawer. A pack of more letters rested neatly within, all having a different colour and number. And all sealed. She kissed her most recent addition and put it on top.
“One day my Elena Jean Edwards.”