Post by Bella Cullen on Feb 12, 2009 23:49:51 GMT -5
Yes i know this is really totally stupid, but I kinda want oppinions? If you will. This is what Nellie and I do in out spaire time. Especially when she sleeps over. Also this is what i work on when I don't have any muse to post. So when i say I'm working on a story, the best bet is that its this story right here. So, if you want to read it go ahead, but please give me reviews if you do. I want conatructive critisizim. Oh and yea, the main character is named after Nellie here. Because i love her name and i wasn't willing to name Cornelia Andrea Brannon anything else. Nellie is pretty much my editor, though we both suck at English. And the thing is, this story started out as a huge joke between my friends and i. Its now also a bet. If i finish this i get 100$ and if i don't than i owe each of them 100$ But Nellie and I are on the same team. We're on team finish.
Thanks, Enjoy,
``Izzy && Nellie
Thanks, Enjoy,
``Izzy && Nellie
Once Upon a Time
Chapter 1
[/font]The rain on the car windows was just what I needed to show me that this was the worst day of my life. Thunder roared, lightening strikes, and ran poured. My Uncle Drew and Auntie Dawn were sitting in the front of the car, while my bags and I occupied the back. I was freshly off a loss of both of my parents. The incident left me with only my grandmother who was my new guardian. She was the only one that my mother truly trusted to take care of her little angel, me. I’d slipped into daydreams, which I had found myself doing often these days. When I heard my name being called by my aunt. “Nellie,” She spoke and I couldn’t seem to find the words to respond. “Nellie, we’re here,” Dawn notified me, I almost started to cry because she took me out of a dream of the old place where I used to live, New York City, New York. I missed the big city. While now they took me out of my city and took me into Bear Creek, Pennsylvania. Where I was to live now. School was another thing that I hated. I’d have to start all over again. Make new friends, and meet new people, which I was always horrible at first impressions.
Grandmother Jean’s driveway was huge and long. Very full of woods too, now I knew why my aunt and uncle took their big black truck. “A Okay, Auntie Dawn.” I giggled and hopped out of the car, grabbing my electronics, guitar, and notebook, slinging the bags around my shoulder and tucked the notebook under my arm. I was dropped off right in front of the large cabin in the middle of the woods where my grandmother lived. I didn’t really want to be here, but that was really no problem. Gran Jean was always willing to do anything I ever asked.
But not in the least amount of time, did I hear Uncle Drew’s voice ring in my ears. Uncle Drew was my mother’s brother, which made him my grandmother Jean’s son. He was the younger of the two. And was the first of them to marry. Dawn and he were still young, and childless. But they were still child-like themselves. Always playing along with me when I was in a goofy mood. “Cornelia Andréa Brannon, I shall bare you warning, Babushka Jean likes to tell stories. Or shall I say make them up. They are always about you mother, father, and Dawn and I. Sometimes they are about you too…so if you ever want to leave, call. Or if you just don’t want to hear them at the moment, just leave the room or tell her an excuse. You understand me?” he asked me and put his arm around me, pulling me into a tight embrace. After his own embrace, he handed me off to Dawn and we hugged as well.
I walked into the house, while Drew and Dawn followed me, and helped me with my bags. I walked into the welcoming hallway that held doors on each side, and a grand staircase to my right. The house was huge. It was opened up in the most beautiful way ever, welcoming with neutral colors draping the walls in every direction. “Nellie, sweet heart? That you?” My Babushka’s shrill voice rung through the hall, I could only see where it was coming from. She was down the hall, which held the open kitchen, than if we were to turn right, walk down another hall, we’d run into a living room where there held a dark red recliner where she’d always sit. I missed sitting in there with her, but I knew those days were so long gone. I was twelve-years-old. I was too old for that.
“Yea, Babushka. Its me” I yelled down the hall. I still had my guitar rested over my shoulder. Well, it really was my dad’s acoustic guitar that I took from my old home. He’d given it to me. Just before he and my mom had died in the work fire. Where I lost my everything, all because of a lousy fire that happened at my mom and dad’s work. I entered the large room and Gran spoke again “My Nellie! And Drew, you brought her. Thank you my dear son!” Babushka exclaimed to us both, thanking Uncle Drew for bringing me and thanking me for coming. “Drew, dear, you should show Nellie her room,” she commanded, though I already knew my room. It was the old blue room I used to use every time I was at this house. It was officially my room when I was six and I’d always spend weekends here. Now it’s officially, officially mine.
Uncle Drew nodded and brought my to the same old room that I always stayed. I thanked him and he fleeted the room. I was alone now. I was so inspired of writing and playing my guitar. It was crazy, how at a time like this, I could write a song. I un-zipped my guitar case and placed it comfortably between my arms and legs. Starting to get the tune, playing softly, softly, faster, faster, louder, louder, and than started to sing:
My world, turned up-side down
This time I’ll believe
I can’t understand why but I know it should
Stay with me. My day, this day, this life isn’t real
I ask you now for another blessing
I’m now just another girl,
With a newly passed tragic past
Please, understand me, I know what I shall do now
Take care; love more, be myself again, again!
I’ve been turned around
My life gone crazy
I don’t, understand why it is this way now
Please, Lord, help me
I’m just another girl
With a newly passed tragic past
Please, understand me, I know what I shall do now!
Take care; love more, be myself again, again
The song went on and on. Steady rhythm, and I sang. Trying to remember each of the lyrics so I’ll be able to write them later. I grabbed my green and red spiral tablet and wrote down all the lyrics I could remember. I practically remembered each of the lyrics. I smiled at my success. My smile was interrupted by a knock on my door “Cornelia? Can I speak to you?” Dawn asked, it wasn’t her usual voice, it was shy, soft, different, it really wasn’t Dawn’s voice as much is it really is.
I walked over to the door and opened it up; the guitar was in my hands, holding it by the top. “What is it Dawn?” I asked confused. Dawn was always so unpredictable. I hated that. I liked it when I could read peoples faces and feel what they feel. Not with Dawn. She was different. I was never able to read her. She was so confusing. Now I know why Drew married her. She was strange, not only in the sense that she was weird, but in the sense that she was amazing.
“I have to talk to you, about Grandma Jean,” She declared, and I couldn’t help but role my eyes at it. I hated it when people did this. They only wanted to talk to me if it was to warm me about something. And usually it was about Grandma Jean these a days. They always wanted me to be warned about something that I didn’t care about. Babushka was fine. I don’t know why people don’t trust her. She was a fine, mature, old woman. Sometimes. Occasionally. Okay maybe I see their point. But I can totally take care of myself. And I’ll have some help from Gran along the way. So what if she tells me some sort of fictional story… I’ll be just fine. I was always told I was much like her. I was always following in her footsteps; I was always an, active, attractive, and loving as a young girl.
“Honey,” Dawn started, I really wasn’t in the mood to hear any crap like ‘it’ll be okay’ or ‘I’m so sorry…your mom would be mad if you didn’t stay with her’ I had enough of that. It was one of those things I was always being told now a day. “Please-she continued- don’t believe any stories that granny tells you…for me…I don’t want you to go up being like her”
Okay…she didn’t want me to be a nice, retired grandmother living with her happy granddaughter in a mansion-like cabin fine. I guess she wants me to be a hobo. “Auntie Dawn, I really don’t want to talk about this at the moment, please” I asked, my voice pleading her.
“Okay…when’s a good time for you to talk?” she challenged. WHAT? That’s a just a nice way to say I never want to talk about it. She should really get a clue. She was really getting annoying. I still had to unpack everything and I was almost starving myself. While Dawn awaited my response I debated in my head of what I should eat: deer of wolf meat. The thought shot shivers down my spine, and I heard my stomach growl in hunger. As I decided on deer (because she probably had beef jerky, which was the only kind of deer I was interested in eating) my stomach gave another loud growl “Nellie, you should get something to eat,” Dawn told me, her voice more stern now. It was back to normal.
I really didn’t feel like talking about my hunger, Babushka, or anything with dawn at the moment. I was so angry with her at the minute. Sure I’ll get over it eventually but…honestly. I’ll be angry with her for another hour. I decided against answering her question and walked past her into the large hall near the spiral staircase. I figured it was about five o’clock in the evening, judging by the sun. My dad used to be an archeologist and worked with my mother. They taught me all of this stuff that-at the time-I thought was worthless. They taught me all about survival skills and telling time by the sun.
I walked down the dimly lit dark green hallway, which was drenched with crown molding, and a dark brown carpet that covered the once hard wood floor. On my way to the kitchen I stopped in the bathroom, to check if my tongue had swollen up, that was one of the signs that one would be starving. It was the same size to my dismay. I half-sprinted down the hall and down the spiral staircase to get into the kitchen. Which had been off the next hall that I’d run into. The kitchen was filled with cold blue and white tile that had splashed the ground. And a faded blue counter that looked as if it was there for many, many years before this time. I swiftly slid to the refrigerator. Opening the fridge, I smelt a rotten egg-type smell that swarmed the air around me. The smell was like a nasty, old lady perfume, mixed with shampoo, rotten eggs, and some type of floral or flower like smell. It was in no way pleasing. I couldn’t stand the smell; I quickly shut the door and figured I should first look in the four smelling drawers. I swiftly slid open the first cabinet. There were forks, knives, spoons, and some sorts of cooking utensils. I slid the one next to it, there were cooling pads, oven mitts, and dishtowels shoved into it. It smelled like old soap-dried with water. It was another one of those unpleasant smells I wish I had never smelled. The home was different from how I remembered.
The home I remembered was beautiful smelling, always welcoming, warm, with an ever so loving atmosphere. My mind wandering helped me to find the jerky. It was located on the counter. My Gran probably figured my diet here would be based on jerky, jerky, and more jerky. What leads me to this conclusion was the humongous pile of jerky that lay there on the counter. I grabbed a piece and threw a strip carelessly into my mouth. After all I did, I realized I created rhythm. With my musical ability, I wasn’t really so shocked. I was always the musical. I screeched the chair agents the tile floor slammed a couple of drawers, and started to sing:
I wanna sing out loud
No one’s gunna stop me now
No matter what you say
No matter what you do
Your gunna see me dance
Your gunna hear me shout—
Soon I was dancing slamming, and singing all over the room. I twirled, ran and jumped. I was having a blast. “Nellie?” I heard a shrill voice call from the corner of the long hall that leads into the living room. I slowly turned on my heels to see my Gran, whom was slouched agents, the doorpost. “What are you doing?” Babushka asked jokingly and confused both at the same time. I don’t think Gran had ever heard me sing before. Than I began to wonder how much she’d heard before I had stopped. I had to ask.
“Gran…um how much did you see?” I questioned hoping that she didn’t hear me. She had a sort of smile on that showed me that she new that I was singing and she heard every word I said. I better get used to singing with her around if I was ever going to write another song.
“Nellie, sorry to break it to you but I didn’t hear a thing,” she joked even though she knew that I knew that she was lying to me horribly. I always seemed to be the best liar of the family. My mom’s side was always horrid at telling lies. My dad’s on the other hand, could pull it off just perfectly. My mom and dad where so different yet, they where prefect for each other, I always loved it, I really wished I could be so lucky to have someone like they have each other. I grabbed the beef jerky bag and skipped over to my Grandmother, smiling like an idiot. “You have a good voice Nell, use it,” She smiled back to me. I could tell she was in a playful mood.
“Ugh,” I groaned at her, I really hated it when people complimented me. I know most people would die to have people constantly complimenting you, but I would hate it. And Gran loved to compliment. I was going to die from this living experience if she does keep complimenting me. But I know it’s just an overreaction at this moment. Its just looking back on it, I really don’t see why I wouldn’t accept that compliment about my singing. “Babushka, I’m really no where near good,” a groaned again.
“Your right”- she started-“you’re no good at all.” She kidded with me. I knew she knew that I knew that I had a good voice. I mean a good voice then why- every night- do I use it? I mean I’ve come on. If I didn’t think that I had only been here for about 4 hours and I’ve already wrote two songs. “Kiddo, you have to go to bed now, ok?” she interrupted my thoughts. I went to the cold window near the back of the roomy kitchen to check what time was my new curfew. “It’s 9 o’clock.” My grandmother laughed. She always liked how I didn’t use modern technology and how I used the sun all the time. It probably reminded her of “the old times” or when she was a child.
“Alright.” I sadly agreed. At Drew’s house, I got to stay up until eleven o’clock. This house was going to be so much different than any other house I lived in. I walked out of the kitchen with gram following me. I figured she might live upstairs in the master bedroom. Or she might live down here behind the mystery door. As I said I lived here, as a child and gram would send us to bed very early. So I never had the chance to see where she slept.
