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Stories of Ann Alley - Writers Nook

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Just want some insight on what you guys think.

We sit in the small green greeting room in silence. In this place there used to be music and a girl and her mother running about, seeing all nothings as beautiful wonders. My mother’s mind was infinite in ways to create magic, and bring fun to all places that are in need of it. I look to my left and see my father, William Alley, and to the right there sits Lord Camran. In front of me I see Rupert Camran, my soon to be betrothed. While overlooking him by mistake, darkness is coming out of a window that is being stained with water from an unexpected rain. I become fixed on a squirrel that was scurrying around searching for its dinner, and being drenched at the same time. “Ann?” I continue to sit still. “Ann?” I shake my head and instantly come back in to reality. “Yes?”I ask not knowing whoever was calling for me before. My father answered. “Ann, is something wrong?” I search my head for appropriate answers, but I find none.
“I was nearly dozing off I guess.” “Keep your head out of the clouds, girl!” Lord Camran snapped almost before I had finished speaking. There was more silence for a few more moments. Silence, other than the drops of rain coming from outside wishing to come in and refresh us with their cold stings. “I’m dreadfully sorry, sir.” I could have smiled, but held back. I did not want to anger the Lord further. “I shall try to control my wandering mind, no matter how vital the urge may seem.” He must have taken this comment into offense for his already large frown somehow managed to grow larger. This time I did smirk, at the silliness of such a man. I take a quick look over at my father who, even while not looking at me, is smirking at the same thing. Glancing at my husband to be, I realized that he is actually quite handsome. Not that I didn’t notice this before, but now I truly took it into concern. He looked up from the floor, which I’m sure must have been absorbing him into itself, and gave me a look that said ‘keep going’, and smiled playfully. And I did.
By breaking the peace, I stood up and asked, “Would anyone like more tea?” “Wonderful idea!” My father exclaimed, seeming very excited that I was leaving the room. I picked up the tea tray, and just before leaving the room I came back to Lord Camran’s chair, where he had been comfortably sitting until my recent interruption, and asked, “and perhaps some biscuits for you my lord?” He gave me a yearning but irritated look, but nobly declined my offer. I left the room and walked into the kitchen which smelled of cream and cakes.
Martha, our kitchen maid, had been cooking all day and just finishing dinner for the four of us. Martha was a tall, lean, wonderful woman who had been my absolute best friend during my mother’s death. Martha’s brown eyes are so warming, and make me think of sitting in the parlor with the fireplace, reading with my mother, and waiting for my father to get home from a long day of hard work. Her smile is like walking through a garden of sweet smelling red roses. Finally, her flowing blonde hair was like a waterfall of sunshine, flowing down her perfect straight back. Today she wore a dress of light blue. Over it lay her cooking apron, that had been stained with white flour and vanilla. “May I have some more tea for our guests and I, Martha?” “Of course, Ann. Just let me put this cake in the over for your father. It’s his favorite. “She smiled. “Shh, don’t tell.” She smiled brighter, and turned gracefully, picked up the cake pan, and began walking towards the oven. I followed her every step, and inhaled the sweet smell of cherries and apples filling the air. Martha noted my staring by saying, “would you like a taste?” We both begun laughing and I responded happily, “Oh, I could never!”, as I stick a finger into the cake made just for us.

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