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@anyone-who-is-interested
Yeah… I know I already had a topic for my WIP, but because the first chapter needed a lot of editing, I simply will not tolerate re-posting the chapter on the same topic.
So…
For those of you who have read my original terrible first chapter (welcome back) I have done a bunch of editing and would love to know what you think. And for those of you who haven’t read my original terrible first chapter, you have been saved of the curse and I would still love to know what you think. 😜
Anyway…
My WIP, which I am considering calling The Purple Eyed, is set in the year 2016. It has five MCs, who each have their own section, and seven other “main-ish” characters. The Purple Eyed is the story of several broken teens who pull together to become one of Burne’s greatest warrior teams ever.
With all that said, here is the first chapter.
_________________________
SECTION I | CHAPTER I
It was a beautiful spring day in Burne. The clear sky and bright sun alluded to summer. Flowers bloomed their pretty faces amidst the grassy neighborhood yards, and the wind whispered to the trees. The world displayed no favoritism to the Burnish people, despite their social divides. The divide was most evident in the city of Fremir, which was broken into three social classes: the poor lived in Needslight, the middle class lived in Greencoin, and the rich lived Burnswell. Everyone knew about the divide, but nothing could change it.
Our story starts in the neighborhood of Burnswell, a district that housed the wealthy descendants of Walt Jefferson II, as well as other rich and influential families. While they never suffered from financial issues, they had broken relationships in their homes, they looked down on other people, and lived materialistic lives. To understand the people of Burnswell better, we will focus on the most prominent family in Burne, and that is the Jeffersons.
“…The life of a rich fellow, living in a mansion tall and grand.
He has carriages and horses, and his wealth’s in his hands…”
Sitting in the window of his room, a young boy read the poetic words from the small brown book nestled in his boyish hands. His bright eyes stared at the words on the page, while his mouth silently shaped the expressions as he read and re-read each sentence. He would spend the whole day devouring the writings like a starved person. They were a comfort to him on rough days, and his favorite books were the ones given to him by his great-grandfather.
Thirteen year old Blair Jefferson was the only son of Belle and Walt Jefferson XXII. He looked unreservedly like his mother, and people often wondered what of his father’s genes he had. His nose held the signature elf-shoe shape that all the Jefferson family line had in common, and was the only feature he inherited from his father.
“…Little did he know, that his riches were a lie.
That all of his fortunes, would one day pass him by.…”
Blair glanced around his bedroom for a brief moment, and began tapping his small feet on the on the smooth, black, wooden floor. His room was large, and could easily have been mistaken for the master bedroom. It had an empty airiness, and a white chandelier hung from the high ceiling. Blair sat in a small lounge chair in front of a large window that filtered the incoming sunlight.
“His days of luxury, and opulence and ease…
Would soon become nothing, but distant memories…
The life of a rich man is fleeting, with no support.
His fortunes are gone, and his life is cut… short.”
Blair lifted his head, and sat up straighter. He ruminated on the poem for a long time before moving to another. Before long, his mind was fully wrapped in the activity, and was too deep in thought to be distracted by a knock at his door. Blair didn’t noticed anything until his door was opened, and a familiar voice called to him, “Blair? Are you in here?”
“Oh, Shannon.” Blair said coolly as he slid out of his chair and stood up, advancing towards the door, “I was not aware that you knocked.”
“I can tell! You are always absorbed in a book.” A blonde-haired woman stepped into the room and put her hands on her small hips. “I might have to ring a loud bell next time!”
The woman, Shannon Palmer, was Blair’s governess. She was hired to care for the boy so that Belle wouldn’t be restrained by the affairs of motherhood. Shannon had been caring for Blair since he was weaned, and she knew him better than the his parents. She was the one he ran too when he was scared, she was the one who made sure he had eaten and bathed, and she kept him on a daily routine.
“Your mother has asked for you.” Shannon put her warm hands on Blair’s shoulders, and walked him to his personal bathroom. Standing on the tips of her feet because of her short height, she pulled a gray suit out of Blair’s closet. She handed the clothes to the boy and stepped outside the door so he could put the clothes on in private. While she waited, she informed him, “Your mother is in the kitchen’s lounge, and her friends are over.”
“Oh, no.” Blair murmured, his words hidden under a sigh. He wasn’t allowed to see his parents unless called for, and often that was when their small talk entertaining had run dry, and he would be the focus of their practiced “constructive criticism”.
“You say ‘oh no’ about visiting your mother?” Shannon asked, as she brushed a few fuzzes off of Blair’s broad shoulders when he exited the bathroom, “You rarely see her.”
“I know, but I really hate the shallow conversations.” He moaned, “I never feel like I can express my opinions or talk about deep subjects. It’s much less enjoyable than talking to you or my tutor or great-grandfather.”
“Really?” Shannon pulled a comb out of the bathroom vanity, and smoothed back Blair’s long, dark hair.
“Yes. My mother doesn’t talk about anything important, and my father won’t stop pushing our family history at me.” Blair continued, “I know it by heart. Walt II was a founder of Burne, Walt III named the first commercial district, Walt IV built the first mansion in Burnswell, and it goes on and on and on. Do they even know me?”
“Oh, Blair.” Shannon sighed as smoothed his loose black hairs down to the best of her ability and kissed his head, “Well, I’m sure they don’t mean to make you feel this way. Now, hurry on down to your mother. At least you can make her feel loved by being obedient to her wishes.”
***
“There you are!” Belle’s quiet, slow, tantalizing voice sent a ripple of irritation down Blair’s spine. She signaled for him to come sit down next to her by patting her gloved hand on the couch.
Blair smiled unenthusiastically and walked to his mother, glancing around the room as he sat down on the couch next to her. Several of his mother’s friends, unfamiliar to Blair, sat on the couches surrounding a coffee table. Some held glasses half-full of wine, and others had their hands in their laps, but all of them watched his moves, smiling—at least as Blair perceived it—rather insincerely.
“Tell me, my friends, isn’t he such a fine boy? A pure reflection of his mother!” Belle laughed. Blair kept his eyes locked with his mother’s, cringing as all the ladies complemented his face and stature and smile. He wished he could escape this torment and run to his room, where all of his books would be waiting to be read. Where he could escape his life, and live in the stories that ended perfectly.
“Blair,” Belle looked into her son’s widened eyes, and shook her thick black hair that hung to her petite shoulders, “would you mind reciting a poem for my ladies? I told them all about your love for poetry, and they are longing to hear you recite it.”
Belle looked around at her friends and they all laughed at her exaggeration of their eagerness. Her thin brows dropped as she stared into Blair’s eyes, giving him a look that demanded obedience to her question-like command.
Blair took a deep breath and matched his mother’s cool request with an even colder, “Because you’ve asked.” Blair stood up. He couldn’t tolerate sitting while reciting poetry. His great-grandfather always told him that poems contained more dramatic power when delivered while standing.
“It’s a heavy weigh within us,
A muscle to be flexed and honed,
Life throws punches we must accept,
As we become grown.It takes form in steadfast bravery,
Glimpses of faith, no matter the stakes,
Nothing can stop us from achieving our goals,
If we have courage, we can’t break.It’s the spark that drives us eagerly,
A reminder that this too shall pass,
We never know what the future holds,
But courage can bring change at last!”When he finished the first poem, the ladies begged to hear another. And another. When it was obvious that Blair was growing tired of this activity, Belle spoke.
“Alright, my friends, the child is tired. Blair, come kiss your mother and you may go.”
Blair walked to his mother, kissed her cheek and exited the room, while the ladies picked back up their conversation about the pleasant, and well mannered children of Burnswell.
Outside of the door, Shannon waited patiently for Blair, and put her arm around his shoulders. It was a comfort to Blair, to be back in the warm arms of of his governess, far away from the emptiness of his mother’s conversations. Shannon’s chatter about some innocent little joy she had seen outside was far more delightful than the vain talk of the ladies in the lounge, but Blair found both to be annoying in the moment. Shannon lead him back to his room, where he sat in the chair facing his window.
“Now, now, Blair,” Shannon said sweetly, as she folded some clothes that sat on his bed, “tell me. Are you feeling… alright?”
“Perhaps.” Blair answered coolly, lacking enthusiasm for anything, “I could feel better.”
He slouched in the chair, wrapped his arms around his legs, and stared out at the world beyond his large home. A world he hadn’t seen much of, but desired to view and experience. His tutor used to tell him about the world outside of Burnswell, but the topic was forbidden by Belle when Blair asked her to take him to Needslight. The memory frequently played in his head:
_____
“Mama!” Blair called childishly as he ran to his mother’s room. She was laying on her bed, admiring her face in a mirror, with a glass of wine on her bedside table. The five year old threw his 46 pound body into her lap, knocking the mirror out of her left hand.
“Blair, I am very busy!” Belle sighed impatiently as she placed him onto the ground. “What do you want, child? Can’t you go whine somewhere else? Where is your governess? Shannon!”
“I’m sorry, Mama. But please! I want to see the world!” His starry eyes filled enthusiasm as Belle stared blankly into them. She thought for a few seconds before she replied.
“Oh. And what part of the world do you want to see?”
“I want to see Needslight!” Blair laughed, and let out a baby-like squeal of joy.
“Oh, no! Why, who told you about Needslight?”
“My tutor.” Blair said sweetly, with a lift of his right shoulder, “He always tells me about the places in Burne when I’m doing geography studies. He told me that the people there need help. Mama, why don’t we ever help them? Don’t we have the—”
“Oh stop, Blair!” Belle exhaled. She turned her pale face away from the child and said, “I don’t ever want to hear you speak of those… those people again! You tell your tutor not to tell you anything else about Needslight! Now, go find Shannon and tell her you’re bored.”
_____
“Blair? Did you hear me?” Shannon’s voice brought Blair out of his thoughts. She tucked the clothes she was folding into his drawers and said, “Well, I was thinking I could make some lemonade. Would that brighten the moment? I will bring you some, and maybe the blues will go away.”
“Perhaps.” Blair said thoughtfully. When Shannon left the room, he retrieved the brown book that he was absorbed in earlier, and resumed his reading.
“What be a cretin?”
“Of course you wouldn’t know. It’s a… bread you put in salad.”Oops, I meant saved from the curse…
“What be a cretin?”
“Of course you wouldn’t know. It’s a… bread you put in salad.”This looks really interesting!! I’m excited to see more of this, I think the characters have a lot of potential!
I think some of the dialogue from Blair seems a little forced, if that makes sense.
Mainly just this paragraph:
“I know, but I really hate the shallow conversations.” He moaned, “I never feel like I can express my opinions or talk about deep subjects. It’s much less enjoyable than talking to you or my tutor or great-grandfather.”
I just can’t really see a thirteen year old boy talking like that, lol. But to be honest, I think the way that these characters talk might just be because of where they are in the social system, so that would make more sense.
There is always light behind the clouds.
- Little Women, Louisa May AlcottThanks for reading!
lol.. Mmm, I see.
But to be honest, I think the way that these characters talk might just be because of where they are in the social system, so that would make more sense.
Yeah. It kinda has to do with his social class, his education, and the things he reads about and all.
“What be a cretin?”
“Of course you wouldn’t know. It’s a… bread you put in salad.”Oh my gosh…this is amazing! I love Blair <3
Lukas&Livia
#Lalbert
Sef&Chase
#HOTTOLINE
LEFSE FOREVER!!!!!! <333Oh my gosh…this is amazing!
Aww thanks!!
I love Blair <3
Lol 😅 He’s another one of my favorites
“What be a cretin?”
“Of course you wouldn’t know. It’s a… bread you put in salad.”and….
after a long while….
i am pleased to present the second chapter….
and hopefully it doesn’t take me another month or two to write a third chapter….
(which it probably won’t take me that long since i have a lot of stuff typed out heh heh)
and its finally going somewhere…
sort of…._________________________
SECTION I | CHAPTER II
Blair closed a door as he stepped down onto the garden walkway. Birds flew around him, and bees buzzed in-and-out of the rare flowers in the garden beds. He stretched towards the sun and took a deep breath, with a small wrapped sandwich in his right hand. He walked around the garden and admired the flowers, before settling down under an oak tree.
In his peripheral, he saw a figure walking briskly up the street. When he turned to look at the figure, he saw a dark haired boy about the age of fourteen. He was barefoot and dressed in well-worn dirty clothing. Blair snickered amusedly, and watched as the boy gazed in awe at the mansions in the neighborhood and occasionally mumbled an unheard compliment about the homes. His sight seeing caused him to trip on his own feet, and he fell to the ground. At this, Blair ran to assist the newcomer up. He reached out a hand and said, “You don’t appear to be from around here.”
“Oh, uh…” The boy stuttered, “I… Yeah—yeah no… I’m—I’m not from here… obviously. I’m from Needslight.”
“Really!?” Blair said. His excitement bubbled up and thousands of questions came to his head, “Why are… how did… I don’t understand? You—but Needslight is… bad, you know… far… poor… ugh, what is your name?”
Unsure wether to stay or to run, the boy straightened up, keeping his arms pinned tightly to his sides and his eyes fixed on Blair. He cleared his throat, but no words came out of him. His face was pale, whether from fear or shame Blair didn’t know.
“My apologies,” Blair said. He shifted his book under his left arm, stuck out his hand, and said, “My name is Blair Jefferson, son of Walt XXII.”
“I—I’m Blaine,” the boy took several steps backward, “And I know who you are.”
“You know? How?” Blair said in amusement. He let his hand fall to his side, and looked at Blaine. A short-sleeved tee shirt revealed several scribbled ink lines on the boy’s arms, his hands were callused and dirt was stuck below his nails. His slender nose and his cheeks appeared pink amidst his fair-skinned face.
“What do you mean ‘how’? You… your family is often talked about in Needslight…” Blaine replied. He clasped his hands together behind his back.
“Oh,” Blair frowned, “I don’t understand.”
“You are in the richest family in Burne…” Blaine said, shrugging, “Everything you guys do is headline news throughout the area…”
Blair frowned again, “Seems like everyone knows me and yet I don’t know anyone.”
The two stood silently, both watching each other and thinking. Blair heard a grumbling noise. He looked at Blaine, “Are you hungry?”
“N—No.” Blaine said quickly, holding his stomach.
“Well, you sound hungry.” Blair replied, ”Come with me! I have something for both of us.”
Blair walked back to the tree, unwrapped his sandwich, and held out half of it to his new friend. Blaine took the half and—without hesitation—stuffed his mouth with large bites of it, glancing around the area as though he’d been caught doing something he should’t.
Blair watched amusedly as Blaine ate, and then he began to quickly eat his half, “So, what brought you out here, Blaine?”
“I was hired by a family… to care for their gardens.” Blaine stated. He reached in his back pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper. A name and address was sloppily scribbled on it, “I just kinda got lost…”
“Here, let me see,” Blair said. He took the note from Blaine and looked at the address written on it, “Oh, the Hartfords. My father is a good friend of theirs. ”
“That’s great! Maybe you could tell me how to find their house?” Blaine smiled. He paused a moment, and stood up, “Maybe I won’t be to late if it’s not far. I pro’bly should get going now anyway.”
“Sure, but hold on.” Blair stood up, “Don’t leave until I come back, okay?”
Blaine watched as Blair ran towards the mansion and disappear inside. Blair came back a short while later, holding a sack in his hands.
“I have a new change of clothes for you.” Blair said, opening the sack and handing Blaine a shirt, jeans, socks, and pair of shoes, “You look about my size. Here—put them on!”
Thanking Blair for the items, Blaine put the clothes on, and placed his old ones inside the sack.
“Okay now. To get to the Hartfords, you go down the street and turn left until you reach the greenish house. Then, you should turn right and you’ll see a brownish house. They live in the brown one. Alright?” Blair said.
“Okay,” Blaine nodded. He repeated the directions to be sure that he’d heard them correctly.
Blaine again thanked Blair for everything and began to head back towards the street when Blair called to him, “Blaine… will you come back sometime and… and tell me what Needslight is like?”
“Absolutely!” Blaine said, “It’s nothing special, but whatever you’d like to know… I’ll tell ya’ what I can. I only visit Burnswell twice a week, on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and I can only visit until five because my sister doesn’t like me to come home when it’s really dark.”
“What be a cretin?”
“Of course you wouldn’t know. It’s a… bread you put in salad.”Ehh… kinda short, but oh well.
“What be a cretin?”
“Of course you wouldn’t know. It’s a… bread you put in salad.”I love this chapter so much!
Lukas&Livia
#Lalbert
Sef&Chase
#HOTTOLINE
LEFSE FOREVER!!!!!! <333lol thanks!!
“What be a cretin?”
“Of course you wouldn’t know. It’s a… bread you put in salad.”I just realized that I had thought I posted a comment on your first chapter, but it appears to be missing. Anyways, I am reading your stuff.
Oh! 😅 Well, thanks for reading!!
“What be a cretin?”
“Of course you wouldn’t know. It’s a… bread you put in salad.”I like it! Blair and Blaine are really similar names, though. That might get confusing, unless it’s intentional?
There is always light behind the clouds.
- Little Women, Louisa May AlcottThanks!!
😅 Oof, yeah… I had named them before I came up with the book, and it wasn’t supposed to be confusing…
“What be a cretin?”
“Of course you wouldn’t know. It’s a… bread you put in salad.”Ugh, I know, that’s the worst. Maybe try Nameberry? I usually go there for names.
There is always light behind the clouds.
- Little Women, Louisa May Alcott
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