Saint Anne's-- original story.

[Kathryn91628]

Hi, Kittens. This is just something i've been fiddling with, in fact, i'll likely change this many, many times in the near future. I also will not finish it, guaranteed, but i figured, what the hell, i'll see if anyone likes it. It's an insanely short prologue as of right now (484 words), but.. meh. Here goes.

Title: Saint Anne's
Author: Kathryn R. Clark

Disclaimer: it's all mine. MINE i tell you. Any similarities between this and other works of fiction are pure coincidence.

Rating: PG (for the moment).

Feedback: would be greatly appreciated.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Saint Anne’s


Prologue:


In the midst of sheer chaos, a sort of deafening quiet took over. The wind no longer blew, the ice no longer rained down, instead a soft dusting of fresh, flaky snow began to fall. It fell toward the ground, silent in its descent. A single girl stood, staring at the disaster before her.


The tiny snowflakes settled in her light brown hair, but she barely felt them. A siren sounded, and moments later the paramedics were there, and the police. People gathered, watched as the once white snow around the two entwined cars turned dark red.


She watched them pull her parents from the wreckage, and pronounce them dead on the spot. She knew they were. Knew the moment the other car struck her parents’ Honda Civic. As she watched all this happen, she wondered why God had decided to spare her. Why her parents had demanded she run into the store to pick up a pack of popcorn for their movie night. The package was still clutched between her mittens, but she was not aware of it. She felt numb.


An officer with cheeks red from the cold walked over to her, a gentle smile on his weathered face. He was probably her father’s age, she thought.


“Hello, miss. What’s your name?” He asked.


His name tag read Officer Barton.


“Michelle,” she said, her voice soft, scared.


Officer Barton walked her over toward the squad car, took the package from her, and offered her a hot chocolate. She didn’t know where he got it from, but the warmth felt good. When she’d drunk about half of it, he asked her another question.


“Were that man and woman your parents, Michelle?” His tone was supportive, and full of condolence, knowing that they likely were. From it she could tell he’d had this talk with many people before, and it wasn’t easy. Behind his eyes were a haunted expression, telling Michelle that he’d seen too much death in his forty-plus years.


She nodded, dropping her eyes to her mittens. They were shades of blue, from the Gap. Her mother bought them for her just a few days prior.


“They’re dead, then?” Michelle asked, but it came out more like a statement. She knew the answer, anyway. As she’d entered the store, she had a bad feeling, almost a premonition. She had regarded it as a moment of insane paranoia. Why didn’t I just go back?


Officer Barton nodded, placing a large, comforting hand on her shoulder. She dipped her head once in confirmation, and felt her eyes start to blur.


Soon, silent tears began to drip down her cheeks, and the cup shook in her hands, spilling some liquid on the floor. He took it from her, then offered a hug. She accepted, crying into the officer’s chest. Her whole life had just been taken from her, all for a measly bag of popcorn.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So that's it. Basically she ends up in a group home for girls, and she meets a girl named Shane there. It's a teen love story, but also about her dealing with her parent's death, and adjusting to being entirely responsible for herself. I don't know if it'll get anywhere, but you're welcome to leave feedback, if you feel like it. Lemme know if it sucks.

Cheers,

~Kat.

[tcurti3]

No, definitely doesn't suck. What a great start. The images are so vivid and the details are very well-drawn--the blue gloves from Gap, white snow turning red. I can't wait to read more. And I really hope you decide to finish.

[Kathryn91628]

tcurti3-- thanks for responding so fast (and with such nice comments, too). I'm actually in the process of writing a 'book', about anorexia, and this is a sorta side project of mine. I'm still in high school, so it's a bit time consuming, and i'll likely not get much done on this. I just felt like posting something for once, since there are such great writers on this message board.

[tcurti3]

Good lord--you're still in high school? I had no idea. In that case, your writing is remarkable.
I shudder whenever I find some fragment of my high school efforts. Every time I think I've destroyed them all, my grandmother ships me a notebook she's found in the back of a closet along with some other bizarre childhood memorabilia (baseball cards, clay figurines I made in art class, a portion of a macrame plant hanger from my 8th grade art class).
Your age does not show through your prose (that's a compliment, if an oddly-phrased one). Good luck on your book. Is it fiction or non?

[Boschi]

Hey - just wanted to say that your first paragraph really grabbed me. Drew me in immediately to one of those time-is-suddenly-very-slow moments. You did a great job of creating an image both crystal clear and full of questions. Well done.

Which isn't to say that I don't like the rest of it too! I do - and would love to see more. I would have liked a better idea of Michelle's age, but expect that will be cleared up shortly.

On a side note, I went to a boarding school for a couple years and one of our athletic rival's was called St. Annes... hmmm - had forgotten about that. Yeah, put a bunch of teen girls in a confined space for months at a time and there is exceptionally high drama/angst potential. Kinda like gathering a bunch of nitroglycerin together and then shaking vigorously.

At anyrate - thanks for sharing this. Hope you continue.

- Boschi

[Kathryn91628]

tcurti3--- Yes, i'm actually only sixteen. Turning seventeen in May. I've had very little schooling with writing, but i read fiction all the time, and have found StrangeQuark's remarks to other writers very useful when applied to my own writing. I guess it's just instinctual, though.

My book is fiction. It's a novel written in first person (a particular style i'm not very fond of, but it's the most effective method for telling the story i want to tell). It's not a romance, it's more about friendship, and insecurities. The narrator is named Katherine Jaeger, and she meets this girl, Jessie Lauren Hathaway, who is secretly anorexic. They become friends, and well, it all goes from there.

I'm hesistant to post anything i've written, however, because it's always being changed. I have about 17,000 words at the moment. I might put some of it up once i'm sure it's going to stay the way it is.

Boschi-- i'm glad you liked it. Michelle is actually 17, and that is revealed later in the story. A friend of mine who read it said she also didn't seem very upset about it all, and that, too, is elaborated on as i go. I pretty much wrote this in a few minutes today, so.. it'll be a bit of a wait before there's more. But i agree, there's pleanty of room for drama in a confined space like that. Saint Anne's is sort of like a boarding school-- but for girls who have no families. I just picked the name because it sounded good, so.. it's pure coincidence.

[justin]

This is a good start to the story. I'm certainly intrigued to see how things are going to turn out for Michelle.

[SilverPhoenix]

hey heys, its Ali *winks* lol i signed up just for you *nods*

this looks so good so far, omg i felt like crying by the end, it was just *tears*...its a great start *nods*...update it soon *puppy eyes* i wanna no what happens next..talk to you when you get back from walmart

[Kathryn91628]

Justin-- glad it interested you. Here's the first part of chapter 1, hope you like it, too.

Ali-- i have a feeling you'll be my story's biggest fan, lol. Anyhow, this chapter's for you, buddy. Still a little angsty, but it'll get better with time.

Disclaimer: still all MINE. However, i do not own Cheerios. Otherwise i'd be rich (ah, wouldn't that be great).

Rating: still PG.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 1: Becoming a Statistic


Michelle lay in a small bed at a local shelter. She was told it would be temporary, until they found a better place for her. She stared at a spot on the wall, the darkness around her making her feel claustrophobic. They told her that she was in shock, and it made sense. She couldn’t feel anything.


My parents are dead, she thought, but even then she couldn’t comprehend it. So she said it aloud. “My parents are dead.”


Still nothing. It couldn’t be true, it just couldn’t.


But yet here she was.


As the night dragged on, she drifted between consciousness and sleep, in a haze as the two states of being bled together. Flashes of her life, before the accident, the night when it happened, haunted her when she slept. And as she awoke, heart thundering in her chest, the reality was worse than the memories. She longed for them, for at least she could see her parents.


At last the morning light drifted through the tiny window, playing across her alabaster cheeks. Her eyelids stirred, and she awoke once more. The ceiling, which she hadn’t seen in the dark, was flaking and stained. There was one particular discoloured spot that drew her attention, and she had no idea just how long she stared at it.


However, it must have been quite a while, for one of the women who worked at the shelter appeared in the doorway.


“Hello, dear,” the elderly woman, Mrs. Percy, greeted her. She’d been so engrossed in the spot that it made her jump, and she whipped her head around to see the speaker.


She tried to smile back, but couldn’t. “Hi.”


“Would you like some breakfast, dear?”


Michelle didn’t know if she was hungry. Her stomach felt empty, but there was a similar feeling in her chest. Mother would want me to eat, she thought, and so she nodded at the older woman.


She put on the pair of sneakers they’d provided her with, and walked down the hall. There were people in the different rooms, some still sleeping, some crying, some talking to a friend on their beds. It was obvious some of them had been there for quite some time. Temporary. How long is temporary?


The dining room was small, but packed. There were four long tables, each full of people of all ages, eating cereal, toast, waffles and other things. The food smelt surprisingly good, and she felt the first pang of hunger. She hadn’t eaten since the accident, which was almost twenty-four hours ago.


Mrs. Percy laid a kind hand on her shoulder, directing her toward the long banquet style table laden with food. It would have seemed like a feast, were it not for the cheap, weathered table cloths and the distant smell of the kitchen. It’s probably not very sanitary.


After getting two slices of toast, she sat down at a table and took a moment to look around the room. It was homey, decorated with Christmas things. Wreaths, mistletoe, snowflakes and little ornaments. They did their best to make it nice, to make the people there forget they were homeless. And most of them were. True, Michelle was homeless, too, but her parents’ money would ensure she ended up somewhere a little classier than this. I don’t deserve it. Not any more than these people do.


After a few minutes, she looked down at her plate to find it empty. She knew she’d eaten the toast, but the memory of it was foggy. Her stomach felt no different than before, no more or less full.


A little way down the table there was a young boy, no more than three years old. He had light blonde hair and adorable green eyes, and he was crying softly. He had a bowl of Cheerios, but was not used to eating them on his own. And no one was helping him. He was alone. Her heart went out to the little boy, so she got up and went to sit down beside him. He looked up at her with those eyes, haunted by living a life a child should never have to.


“Hi,” she said, her tone gentle. “My name is Michelle. What’s yours?”


“Nicolas.”


His voice was scared. She reached over and ran a soft hand over his wispy hair, calming him. “It’s okay, Nicolas. Do you need some help?”


He nodded, turning a little pink at the attention. She picked up his spoon and filled it with Cheerios, then offered it to him. When he finished, one of the women who worked at the shelter came over to take him back to his room, and she watched him go. Nicolas clung to the woman’s leg, sucking his thumb.


Briefly she wondered what would happen to the child. Would he ever find a home? Or would he grow up in a room full of strangers, all alone?


Her eyes grew moist, and she felt the small drops squeeze themselves from the corners of her eyes, falling unbidden down the planes of her cheeks. One rolled down to the tip of her nose, hung there, still for a moment, and then fell. It landed on the pajama shirt she was wearing, leaving a damp spot. She didn’t notice, or care.


In a room full of people, she felt alone.


<< end of part one. (there will be more to the chapter, later).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

so, anyway, here's a bit more. I may or may not change it later, as i finish the chapter. I don't have a beta, and i haven't edited it much, so.. my apologies for any grammar/spelling errors.

[SilverPhoenix]

of course im gonna be your biggest fan, i love stories like this..all sad then it gets happyer...it is gonna get happy right? *bites lip* well not happy as in all *we all love each other yays hehe, lets hug*...err you get what i mean lol..and yay the chapters for me *hugs you*

as for the update...aww poor Nicolas, well poor anyone thats there but he needed help to eat cheerios :( ...i really like how this is so realistic *nods*, and the ending In a room full of people, she felt alone. ive felt like that before, well a lot of times really so my heart goes out to her *nods*..well seeing as everyones here, and i have people walking by trying to read what im writing ill end this here...talk to you online