A Short Story : A Story?

He turned his head toward me and peered at me through swollen eyes. “I begged her not to go with him,” he said quietly. “Do you hear me, I begged her!”

“Mama!”. She nestled into her mother’s arms. “Why would they do this to me? How could they?”

"I have been well," she said. She had looked curiously at Sophia. "Been Well?" she

Frank was talking about Andrés—Margaret Sampson 's adopted son. My tongue seemed to swell from hearing his cruelty, from something he had never called Andrés before. Margaret was also my closest friend and her story, the saddest in Hanford. Years ago, her biological son’s body was found on the South Gibson train tracks. A drunken night gone wrong, the autopsy relayed, since River’s organs were soaking in the pool of alcohol he had consumed. Things got worse when three months later, Margaret 's husband Jim left.

“What are you talking about?” She yelled into nothingness as her eyes frantically searched around for any sign of her family.

“Are you alright?” Gilbert asked in a low, worried voice. His hand brushed hers and Anne swiftly drew herself up and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

She wiped her tears away, walking towards the front of the house to greet her mother. Instead of seeing the brown head of her mother she was greeted by her sister, Valerie. She lept forward, hugging her. “They cleared you? Thank god, I knew you didn’t do it!” Valerie's turns towards, her eyes are dark with rage.

“But Mother, you don’t understand! I love my father. I enjoy being a thief with him. I want to go visit him”! Leah said angrily.

“Henry,” called Mr. Wakens, “let me apologize for my daughter’s rudeness to your son. I am to blame for this misunderstanding. My wife insured me that she had informed our daughter to make herself available at the young Masters convenience during Spring Break. I am unaware what had occurred, but I will insure his personal servant, Mr. Aitken has her number to call for her to…”

“Oh no,”” Julianna whimpered. Mom was looking for her. She and Hugo were going to be in big trouble.

A filament of anger glowed inside her. “Look, you think I’m some kind of bird you ditch from an experiment.”

I was immediately greeted by Helen’s mother. “You must be Kev! She talked about you all the time! She tells me all about how you two were best friends!” She rambles on and on about all the fun we’ve had even though I don’t recall doing anything she’s said we’ve done.

“My lord, are you unwell?” Lillian said loudly. A footman came to assist Lord Brightly to a chair.

She rolled her eyes. “She actually sits at her father’s council table. He looks to her for advice even in granting justice. Since her mother’s death, the Princess is more the Queen than anything else. She might offer you some perspective.”

Leaves crunched lightly with every precise step June took. Clutching her bag even tighter, she continued down the dirt trail. Her hands were pressed snugly against her cream sweater, bringing additional warmth in the frigid morning air. A breeze blew her fiery orange hair into her eyes, and she brushed it away. Glancing around, she took in the warm colors of fall painted around her.