Nov 07
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The false Princess- chapter one

My mother's deep dark blue eyes peirced the dark of night all who dare look. Like the glow of a a cat's eyes in the dark of night. She sat there in an old creecky wooden chair that is falling apart just stareing out the window into the pich black country side. Nothing was going to take her away from that window no matter what anybody said  or did. I stood at the fire place whaching her. That's the thing abou my mother, she captivates people. It did not matter that she was my mother, she has always been this way. When she was young her mother would call her "blue eyed beauty." I focus back to dinner as we have a chicken cooking over the spit. We have prepared almost a feast tonight we must make sure that it will last beacuse this will probobly be the last time we will eat for a long time. Ever sencie this fammon hit the kingdom crop has gone down dramaticly and not to meantion the animals are suffering too! My famaliy owns this small farm properdy and not much else. In compareison to other farms ours is realy small which means less animals. Our chickens are droping like flys from malnurshment. And our poor cow is showing so much bone I fear she will not make it through the night. Today we spent our day gather all crop that had not been hit by the fammen. When the chicken was done cooking, I called for my mother. "MOOOTHER dinner is ready get it while it's hot". But she just continued to sit there and stare out the window like a small school boy bored with class. I called once more." I SAID dinner is ready". She just continued to sit there. "Come on you have to eat." She continued to ignore me. "Do have to drag you out of that chair. Still no responce. I had tired of this so I walked over to her and pulled her right out of that chair. "Hay what got your britches in a knot?" 
"It's dinner."
"Well thats no reason to drag someone out of a chair."
"Well had to it's the only way I can get you to listen."
My mother let out a laugh. "Well if it was the only way." We are now siting at the table eating dinner my mother tonight is acting oddly quiet. "Mother are you okay?"
"I worry about your brother"
" I asure you damian is perfectly fine."
"Those people he is out with, I don't trust the look of them."
"He is almost eighteen mother when will you just let us grow up?"
"It's a mother's right to worry for her children."
Damian and I are twins and mother has alway worried for us no matter our age. In a few short days, we shall be turning eighteen. I have chosen to live a quiet life as my brother has chosen ther life of a party life of women and alcohol. Every week spending all his money on partys. just disapering before dark and doesen't come home until vary late at night. Partys to me are a compete wase of time and money and if you the host or the geust, one will end up totally wasted or totally broke. My brother (as have hurd) is a very succsesful with the ladys of our town. I have never seen this in action, but this statement is a little far feched but I could be wrong. It seems that almost all girls my age have found a husband or have a lover, while I am alone. I am not complaining though. I love being single! I'm content being alone I don't need a huband or some man to hold me back. My opion on marrige probobly has to do with my upbring on a farm. Our closest neighbor lives miles away and we have only met once or twice. I grew up not knowing to many boy, and I have never seen the need for a husband. I will mast likely end up spending my life alone takeing care of the farm and mother for the rest of my days. After dinner, mother and I retired to the paralor. Mother stareing dreamly at the picture that my father drew of them on their wedding day. It's beautful drawing, mother loves it very much. My father died when I was only three and I remember very little about him. But I do know that mother loved him very much. That picture she says that drawing always reminds her of him as a little reminder that he is still with her no matter where he. A sat down with my own indugence, Shackspear. I love Hamlet and his other plays like King Henry and Mcbeth. He just has a interesting way of writeing it's so uninique and different it's a statement about how he saw the world and each story has a meaning and a lession we can all learn. All is quiet untill my mother finally breaks the silence and says " Emily darling would you please get my some tea i'm parched."
"Yes Mother"
I place water in the kettle and put it over the fire. After the tea is made, I begin to truly relax. Mother must have been tired that night because she fell aslep before she finished her tea. I desided that I would stay awake for when Damian came home figued I could get a few books or so. But I must have been quite tired that night beacause not even Shackspear could keep me awake. I slowly drifted off to sleep.



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