User blog:Jabainlover88/Book1

 There is a vast grass field with tall dark trees standing in the center. The wild flowers smelling mostly of rosemary surround the mossy wyne tree. The feel of the trunk is lumpy and the thick branches have no leaves. From one of the branches hangs a swing with a little girl in it. She has dark black hair and wears an orange lady bug sundress looking no older than four years old. Behind the child stands a beautiful woman pushing her in the swing. Standing about 5’9 with dark black hair, she resembles the younger girl. The square type face and wide set eyes don’t show traditional attractiveness of the older woman, but her ocean blue eyes marvel you. Wearing nothing but a large coffee brown sweater and blue jeans one can see her modesty. She laughs as she pushes the giggly little girl on the swing.

 “Willow,” she whispers, “this will be our secret safe haven for all our secrets.”

   The child smiles at light tap on her back and returns to gazing at the sky. Maybe this had to do with the comforting presence or light touch that reassured her of security. “Mommy,” Willow cries, “I…..”



 After waking up from that dream I am panting with sweat.

         My skin feels clammy and unpleastly sticky. Looking around myself, I see I’m in my room which walls remind me of the green grassy fields. The green paint covering the wall shows pictures not of me, but my dream destinations like the Great Pyramid of Giza and the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. These are places I hope to go to if I ever find the money. Wandering, my eyes go to the brown dresser with only three drawers. The middle drawer is stuck and refuses to open, so I only have two drawers to stuff my clothes in.

 Next to the drawer is the tall bookshelf with the most value, which was made by my uncle for me when I was seven. It is entirely made from red bark wood and has birds carved on the sides. I look at the very top to see my favorite book. Though it’s worn out and fragile, I love it the most because it reminds me of my mother. Before she died, she gave me her copy of the book her mother read to her, Tuck Everlasting. Staring into a daze at my window, I see birds flying across the sky. I think to myself how the dreams I keep having are getting worse. They are not scary, but sadden me. Usually there about my mother and myself as a little girl. Being nostalgic, I can only think how I will never see her again, but it’s the only memory I have of her. When she died in the car accident, I was five. I have tons of her belongings so at least I can look back at the things she had.

 “Willow get down here before your breakfast gets cold!” screamed a voice downstairs.

 “ Ven aquí  ahora mismo o  yo como  su desayuno <span lang="ES" style="line-height: 200%; font-size: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> <span lang="ES" style="line-height: 200%; font-size: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">mí !” provoked the voice again.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; line-height: 200%;"><span lang="ES" style="line-height: 200%; font-size: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">                                               Eva.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; line-height: 200%;"> I ran quickly out of my room to the kitchen because I know Eva would actually eat my food for me. She takes little bites out of it every day. <span lang="ES" style="line-height: 200%; font-size: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; line-height: 200%;">                         Eva was in her gray sweats with a phone in one hand and a piece of bacon in the other. Typical Eva, always eating. She is the live-in-housekeeper. The reason Eva is always cooking she tells me is because she’s Mexican. I have never caught her doing what she’s told, only agreeing on her on own terms. Her reddish dyed hair makes you overlook her black glasses. Being twenty-three and a part time college student, I like having her around since she’s like an older sister to me. “ <span lang="ES" style="color: black; line-height: 200%; font-size: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-themecolor: text1;">¿Por qué <span lang="ES" style="color: black; line-height: 200%; font-size: 14pt; mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-themecolor: text1;"> te tomó tanto tiempo en tu habitación, te escondes algo allá arriba? ” Eva asked me.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; line-height: 200%;"> I choked on my egg. Oh Eva, always assuming something.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; line-height: 200%;"> “I’m not hiding anything in my room, I just slept in,“ I replied.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; line-height: 200%;"> “Laziness ain’t an excuse and you haven’t even cleaned up.” she smirked.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; line-height: 200%;">   I looked down at my body and saw my Redskin t-shirt and black pajama shorts. There didn’t seem to be anything wrong to me, but most people don’t know Eva like I do. She’s overly opinionated, stubborn, and nosy. If she has a problem with what you’re doing, she’ll tell you straight up. This meant that I would have to change and couldn’t just sleep in the rest of the day. Seeing her motion her hands to the stairs, I knew I had to take a shower. The odds of me ever winning an argument against Eva is very small, so I have learned to agree.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; line-height: 200%;"> I walked into my bathroom looked directly at the mirror, and there was my reflection. My jet black hair that cascades into loose curls and fall as far to my upper chest looked messy. The white pale skin I have exploits diamond face, full pink lips, framed dark eyelashes, blue- grey eyes. Eva always says that my eyes are my most beautiful facial feature. They have an air of mystery is what she calls it. I don’t like looking at myself too much because I can see my long legs and slender arms which I refer to as scrawny. Uncle Jacob says, “That’s why your parents named you Willow. Since they knew you would become a slender and graceful woman.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; line-height: 200%;">   I finally got into the shower and turned the faucet on. I felt the cold water fall on my skin and myself stroke my hair with shampoo. The cold water obviously meant Uncle Jacob woke up early and used up all the hot water. Surprising since it was only the two of us.

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