A Short Story : A Story?

When we where done with dinner. Modesto called the people of the house to come eat. I walked into the dining room to serve their food to them.

"You don't have to do that, Hun. That outfit will work. Do you were make up or not."

After dinner I headed to my bedroom and wiped off my makeup and got into my PJs. I also told my robot butler to clean my room and do my laundry tomorrow. I made sure to update my status telling everybody that I'm going to bed now on

“Oh, hush. You can’t go to a ball without a dress!” She exclaimed. I hated the way she talked to me — like a mother; my mother was gone and I didn't need someone to replace her.

The sun was high in the sky, gleaming down on us. The air was breezy, but not cold. The day was ordinary, or so it seemed. But what was out of place? That would be my brother, the only person who could possibly get himself into such a situation, with his impossible ability to almost die, but just miss the mark. As he sat there on the ground with his back to us, legs sprawled out in front of him, we didn’t even realize that there was anything wrong. Hold on a second. Let’s rewind this just a little.

“You know, I never thought you could be disheveled. Always the prim proper Jordan Jacobs,” she says in a terrible British accent.

“Have to dress like an underdone Harajuku girl?” Carlysle grumbled without looking up. Eira leaned over to see what she was doing.

"I'm just saying that you would look cute in it." She said and lightly flitted to sit on my bed.

Mrs.Chipley and Sally are at the front door soaking wet the moon was so close I felt like I could touch it. We knocked on the door someone was opening the door.

"It 's nice to see someone else who knows how to dress," I said to the woman, "you must be Queen Annelyse of Aurelia."

"I guess it's time we headed home," the Blue-eyed boy says, unlocking the driver's door to the vehicle.

Bruce, his best friend who is a private postman who sometimes is very nosy and quizzical at other people’s things.

“It’s beautiful,” I gasped. I couldn’t believe my eyes; if I thought I was a princess

Checking my makeup one last time, I push my sleeves up, though not past my elbows. I slip on a cute pair of flats; heels are too dangerous with shaky legs; and grab my Hollister bag. Padding downstairs, I inhale the scent of waffles and syrup.

Eva curls her lip. “In other words, an excuse to wear as little as possible.”