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A little bit of a story I plan on actually writing.
Living in New York in 1914, a passionate young girl has to deal with the fact that her older brother is fighting in the war. The only world that she ever knew starts to change and unfold before her very eyes, with a price.


Submitted:Mar 31, 2013    Reads: 74    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


My last memory of John is very clear. I was seven at the time, and he was fourteen. I recall a lanky boy with brown hair and dark eyes kneeling down beside me. He gave me a great big hug and whispered, "Now don't cry, my little Angel. I have to go, but I'll be back soon. I promise." Then John looked me in the eye and smiled, but his eyes looked sad. He stood to leave, and I just watched him with scared green eyes. I didn't know why he was leaving, but I was scared. And John could tell. "Catherine! Hey Catherine!" I was walking out of the schoolhouse, heading home, when I saw my best guy friend Charles Walkeman running towards me. "Hello Catherine!" He said breathlessly, as if he had been running for a long time. "I-I got Father to agree to let you come over to our home. Does that sound like a deal?" I smiled pleasantly. I've never met Charles' parents before, but I was willing to try it out. "Marvelous! That's simply marvelous!" I replied happily. "See you tomorrow night, Charles!" He grinned. "I'll see you then, Catherine!" He said. When I woke up, the first thing I noticed is that my door was wide open and I could smell my mother cooking bacon and eggs. Mmmm, my favorite. I hopped off my old cot and walked into the little room where we usually eat. Just me, Mother, and my baby sister Rosa. "Good morning, mother!" I greeted. She looks up at me. "Hello, darling! I'm just cooking up a nice meal today," she said. "Why don't you go on up and get dressed while this food cools down?" I bounded up the stairs and threw my gown on my cot. Rummaging through my closet, I choose a lovely ruffled magenta dress and my favored white stockings. Once I sat down on the floor, I asked my mother, "What's the special occasion? Someone get older?" Mother laughed and handed me my plate. "No, John's coming home," she answered. Suprised, I almost dropped my plate. "J-John's coming home?!" I could hear myself stuttering. My mother nodded and held Rosa in her lap. "Yes, little Angel, but he's older than ever now," Mother warned. "So he might not remember you so well." I nodded, and then we both said ou prayers before we dug in.




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