Over January term I had a lot of extra time on my hands that I was able to devote to things that I typically had to put aside during the rest of the school year in favor of homework. One of these things was to get back to some of my old writing projects. For the past year or so, I’ve been working on a rather complicated love story that involves one girl and two brothers. Upon rereading my stock of scenes, I recollected some scenes that I was sure I had written but couldn’t find. At first I thought that maybe I had thought I’d written them but never actually had, and then I accepted that I must have lost them. Just as I had lost hope of regaining them and even started trying to recreate them (nowhere near as good as the originals, I might add), I found a Word Doc with the lost scenes! Huzzah! So, here is my favorite “lost” scene for you to read. Enjoy!
The clanging of the bells signaled the new life opening wide before me- out into the great expanse of verdant pastures chugging by. Andrew hoisted up my leather-bound suitcase, hardly grunting under its weight. “Are you sure you want to go?”
“I don’t really have a choice anymore.”
“What am I to tell Mother?”
I curled a wrinkled note, well-loved in short life, into his hands. “This should explain everything she’ll want to know.”
“You can’t just run away, Dove.”
“I just need some space. The Estate is too crowded these days. You understand.”
“You can’t go.”
“And why not?”
“I don’t want you to go.”
My eyes most definitely widened a little in surprise, and Andrew swiftly and smoothly moved up from the platform to meet me on the stair, his lips gently grazing mine as the world shifted below us, propelling me forward.
I stared out into the vast darkness, no perception of land or sky. A thin fog condensed on the glass with every breath. And in that fog was the reflection of my thoughts.
From her sobs, you might think that Mrs. Trenton was grieving the death of a dear loved one. Not in the traditional sense of the word, but in the abstract, was Mrs. Trenton grieving someone’s death. And that someone, was her Dream. The epitaph read: “Now Life has killed the Dream I dreamed.”
Wes stood nearby, lips thinly pressed together. Johanna smiled her perfect smile. And Andrew looked out at the night. The stars were black and cold.