Here's part 2 of THE TRIAL.
Cleo paused to take a breath. She looked up and hugged the notebook to her chest, and watched the creek bubble cheerfully along, wishing and wishing to be somebody else. Her dark eyes took on a foreign look, and her expression was sad. “Why?” she whispered to the stony, silent world. “Why me?” A single tear rolled down her pale, white face.
Meanwhile, Cleo's mother had decided to go seek out her daughter, and stood up, brushing away any evidence of tears from her face. “I've got to be strong. Can't let Cleo see me crying like this, and carrying on so. Then she'll just start crying again, and that won't do me any good whatsoever.” Cleo's mother straightened her back and arched her head back at a proud angle. “It will be okay. Now not for my Cleo, no, not at first. But then she'll make some buddies and all will be well. Yeah, that's probably how it's going to be.” The woman walked out the still-open back door. “I know my Cleo's had it all rough since her daddy died, but that doesn't give her the right to be rude to me. Although, I suppose many other fifteen-year-olds treat their parents the same way.” The woman walked towards the woods. “Sad, today's world.”
As soon as Cleo heard her mother's footsteps behind her, she put her diary away. “Cleo.” came a quiet, but strong, voice behind her. Cleo didn't stir. “Cleo, darling.” Still no response. “Cleo.” The woman paused. “I know this is a change for you. I know it's different. But we have got to go. I'm sorry, dear, but I'll lose my job if we don't. And new experiences are healthy.” Cleo's hair blew across her face from a chilly gust of wind. “You'll make friends. Now come. Before it starts to rain.” Nothing. “Cleo, darling,” said her mother, who was on the verge of tears, “Don't make me cry.”
That was enough to make Cleo stand up and turn around. “But, Mom,” said Cleo, starting to cry, “You're going to cry anyway.” Then Cleo wrapped her arms around her mother, and the rain started to fall, dripping in between the trees and plopping heavily into the creek. And the two females turned and started walking home.
The next day, Cleo started to school wondering what in world to tell Krystal, her best and closest friend. And, for that matter, all of her other friends. She dreaded it.
Well, I got the pictures!! The last one is my friend. I think it's perfect. :-) Well, I'm working on chapter two, but if you guys could give me some feedback it would be awesome!
I'm psyched! I'm having two close friends act as models for me, and are going to have their pictures taken by a good photographer. That said, they will be put in the sidebar picture window when I get the pictures.
Well, I have part one of THE TRIAL up. Let me know what you think. By the way, I'm thinking the girl in the sidebar picture is Cleo.
“No, Mom.” said Cleo impatiently. “I don't. In fact, I think that it's ridiculous.” She raised her chin, watching the figure in front of her with jaded eyes. “Cleo, please,” said the woman through her tears, please listen to me. I only want the best for you. . .You know that. . .” For half a second, Cleo thought about apologizing. Then she shook her head, tossing her hair. “No. I won't listen to you anymore. You're always telling me what to do, who to be with, and when you mentioned this, it was the last straw.” “Then,” her mother said, “Y-you're saying no? You can't say no to your problems!” Cleo watched her mother's shoulders sag in bitter disappointment. Cleo glanced next to her. There was a glass door, that led to the woods behind the house. It wasn't the best, but it would have to do. Cleo didn't answer her mother, but instead darted over to the door and opened it with such force that the floors shook. “Cleo, honey-” her mother started, but Cleo was gone. Her mother sat down in a chair that was next to her and heaved out a sigh. Then she buried her face in her hands.
Once Cleo reached the woods, she slowed her pace and adopted a languid walk. She folded her arms across her chest and put her head down, still walking. Her long hair blew in the breeze that danced its way in between the trees. She kept walking along until she came upon a small creek. Perfect. She sat down on a large rock on its edge, and pulled from her back pocket a small, slightly tattered black journal. She pulled a pen out from the journal's pen loop, opened it, and began to write.
Does Mom really expect that to happen? I can't believe she said that. I can't move. I can't. I know I was mean, I know I was rude, but. . .I have a life here. I can't just up and move to England! I have friends. I have a school. I'm settled here. I have been. I've lived here all my life; and anyway, why couldn't it be somewhere in America? Why England?
Hi everyone! Well, this is my first post. I'm so excited!! Well, instead of posting a story right now, I 'll just introduce the site a bit. Well, I'm sure you're all wondering how the title came to be? Incidently, I just meshed my favorite flower with my favorite color, and TADA!, we got Blue Jasmine. ('we', meaning me and one of my special friends.) I know the picture isn't that relevant, but it's a very special picture, anyway. I took it in England when I went last year. :-) We went to a fishing village on the coast. Well, I have to go, but I'll try to put a story up soon! I have an idea, and it's coming along nicely!