A story that doesn't know where to go but knows where it's going.
With my friend Spook :)
Tuesday 19th January 1883
Dear my only friend,
If I wanted to smile, I'm sure I would right now. I have been ignored, harmed and simply harmed inside for the millionth time. Every day, constant... contradictory.
Today my mother, she...she made me gather up my only toys. A book, a doll and a rocking horse. She took me downstairs into the living room where my fire place is. And...she lit the fire and made me burn them all. All of them. I sat there and cried until mother slapped me and made me go to my bedroom. I mean I just didn't...understand anything. Why she would just burn my only piece of imagination I had left with objects, everything else I just had to use with my head.
I mean it isn't like I've done anything to her. Not really anything in general. We have enough money, we have enough money to keep us going, I have a large bedroom and plenty of clothes but my mother and father are just...not like real parents that I see when I go out onto the street.
Of course now I'm not allowed out of my front and back garden, and I spend forever looking over the black,sharp gate, whispering to the woods in front of me, begging to be let out. But, if I'm there to long, my father comes out and hits me and sends me to my bedroom like every day.
The only freedom I have is looking out of my bedroom window over my city, waiting to be let out.
Large, loud footsteps banged up the long wooden stairs towards Omelia's room. Omelia gasped.
I must go, just please, God, keep me safe from my father. Make sure father will not hurt me or slap me. Please, I am begging.
I shall write tomorrow, good-bye.
Omelia's writing became quickly scribbled and un-neat as she struggled to hide it in her usual place, in the bottom draw of her wardrobe, and got into bed when the beastly, ghastly father of hers opened the door. She prepared herself to get hurt, tensing her fits.