Diary Of The Star-Crossed Lovers
Entry #1
November 5, 1773 - Noon
Katherine
The icy breeze nipped at my feet as I walked along the cobblestone path. My thin leather shoes did nothing to protect my feet from the cold snow beneath them, and I found myself shivering harder a few moments later. My dress billowed out behind me like a cape, and my golden waves of hair whipped in the strong winds. Out of the corner of my eye, I could sometimes see people peeking out at me from the shops and homes alongside the sidewalk. I was the only one outside; no carriages on the street, and no one walking around. You would have to be insane to be outside in this weather. True, I was outside, but I would rather call it bravery, not insanity.
The blizzard had been raging on for three days now, and I could tell that it was finally coming to the end of its short life. I would most likely have a terrible cold tomorrow, but it would be worth it. My family and I have not seen our father since the storm started, and I was headed to his store to find him. I have always had the best connection with my father. It was probably because I am more like him than my mother. I have blond hair and blue eyes like him, while my mother, my two younger sisters, and my older brother have dark brunette hair and chocolate eyes.Must admit, I have always been jealous of their looks. Their eyes held more depth and their hair were tiny rivers of near black, tumbling down their shoulders, shiny and perfect. My eyes were a dull, stormy blue, and my hair was just a pile of ridiculous yellow waves upon my head. I was the only one of my family who had a splash of light freckles across my nose and cheeks. Too many times have I been asked if Patrick and Elizabeth Jameston were my true parents.
When I was about thirteen years old, I recall waking at dawn, taking some of my brother’s shirts and briefs, riding my father’s horse all over our 50 acres of land, hiding his clothes in the barn when I was finished, and walking into my house, smelling of mud and horse hair. My mother took one look at me and frowned. She whispered something to herself, and then yelled at me to go take a bath. Looking back on that day, I am sure she had whispered to herself that I had a rebellious spirit. And I do. I have never been one to go with the crowd, and in some ways I wish I was a man. I hate dresses and other girly things, and I would much rather work in a stable than attend classes on how to be a proper lady and dance at fancy balls and parties. My mother saw this as a dangerous issue, but my father usually could not care less. That is why I have such a strong bond with my father. He always lets me make my own decisions, instead of forcing me into things.
I spotted the door to my father’s general store up ahead and quickened my pace. My heart was racing, and I was running now. I desperately hoped my father had stayed indoors, and had not frozen to death in the icy storm. I had to push through the heavy snow in front of the door, and when I reached the handle, I flung it open with all my might. This was the moment of truth.
And it looked like we had company.
Katherine
The icy breeze nipped at my feet as I walked along the cobblestone path. My thin leather shoes did nothing to protect my feet from the cold snow beneath them, and I found myself shivering harder a few moments later. My dress billowed out behind me like a cape, and my golden waves of hair whipped in the strong winds. Out of the corner of my eye, I could sometimes see people peeking out at me from the shops and homes alongside the sidewalk. I was the only one outside; no carriages on the street, and no one walking around. You would have to be insane to be outside in this weather. True, I was outside, but I would rather call it bravery, not insanity.
The blizzard had been raging on for three days now, and I could tell that it was finally coming to the end of its short life. I would most likely have a terrible cold tomorrow, but it would be worth it. My family and I have not seen our father since the storm started, and I was headed to his store to find him. I have always had the best connection with my father. It was probably because I am more like him than my mother. I have blond hair and blue eyes like him, while my mother, my two younger sisters, and my older brother have dark brunette hair and chocolate eyes.Must admit, I have always been jealous of their looks. Their eyes held more depth and their hair were tiny rivers of near black, tumbling down their shoulders, shiny and perfect. My eyes were a dull, stormy blue, and my hair was just a pile of ridiculous yellow waves upon my head. I was the only one of my family who had a splash of light freckles across my nose and cheeks. Too many times have I been asked if Patrick and Elizabeth Jameston were my true parents.
When I was about thirteen years old, I recall waking at dawn, taking some of my brother’s shirts and briefs, riding my father’s horse all over our 50 acres of land, hiding his clothes in the barn when I was finished, and walking into my house, smelling of mud and horse hair. My mother took one look at me and frowned. She whispered something to herself, and then yelled at me to go take a bath. Looking back on that day, I am sure she had whispered to herself that I had a rebellious spirit. And I do. I have never been one to go with the crowd, and in some ways I wish I was a man. I hate dresses and other girly things, and I would much rather work in a stable than attend classes on how to be a proper lady and dance at fancy balls and parties. My mother saw this as a dangerous issue, but my father usually could not care less. That is why I have such a strong bond with my father. He always lets me make my own decisions, instead of forcing me into things.
I spotted the door to my father’s general store up ahead and quickened my pace. My heart was racing, and I was running now. I desperately hoped my father had stayed indoors, and had not frozen to death in the icy storm. I had to push through the heavy snow in front of the door, and when I reached the handle, I flung it open with all my might. This was the moment of truth.
And it looked like we had company.
Notes
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1/12/14