Post by Johanna Barker on Jun 26, 2011 17:03:55 GMT -5
Johanna was in the library, trying to find a book to read. She needed new ones, but she couldn't seem to make her way to a good book with all those risque titles. Surely those books hadn't belonged to her fiance. Surely they were Beadle Bamford's collection. The thought of her guardian, well fiance rather, reading books like these infiltrated her mind. She sighed in anguish as she passed from that shelf to the others. Thankfully, there were books to her taste there. She loved the books about the prince who would save his damsel in distress. She had hoped she'd find one of her own someday to rid her of all that she had lived through, and was about to re-live. This time, as a wife. Forever binded by a simple ring and a certificate.
Aside from all the many books aside on the shelf, dusting at the covers, the girl saw a book laying on the table, next to a glass of brandy. She decided that it looked suitable to read. Johanna picked up the simple book without a title and began to head back to her room. The book was a short one, but cherishable. It was was a small book, but it had no title. At least their weren't anything that would poison her brain like those other books she had seen in his possession. She didn't know what the book was and she didn't care. She needed to read something to keep her from reaching insanity. Johanna heard her mother had gone insane and roamed the streets. She did not want to become like her. She was a good girl. She had always obeyed and followed rules, hadn't she?
Johanna tiptoed back to her room. She didn't want to be seen out of her room, no matter what "freedoms" she had revived from her guardian. She snuk back into her room and sat by the window, noting that the grey sky and the pouring rain and fit her mood. She pressed her hand against the window, imagining that the raindrops caressing her windows glass were her tears. She wanted to cry, she did. But couldn't find herself to. She had always remained strong and chose to in gore the urge to cry, even when she was little. She knew how it upset her guardian and others around her. She knew to be strong and silent, rather than foolish and loud.
Weren't they the same thing? She asked herself.
She flipped the book upon to the first page and began to read. She noticed at once that this was all hand written. The ink was dry, but she continued to read. She wasn't going to complain, but she wanted a book that was perhaps made by a machine. Johanna read the first few pages before realizing the book she now held grasped in her hands. Not only did it belong to Judge Turpin, but it was his diary. She let out a small gasp, knowing this would be sorely missed. She didn't want him to think she was being nosy. It was an honest mistake. Johanna felt a sudden drop in her stomach.
Aside from all the many books aside on the shelf, dusting at the covers, the girl saw a book laying on the table, next to a glass of brandy. She decided that it looked suitable to read. Johanna picked up the simple book without a title and began to head back to her room. The book was a short one, but cherishable. It was was a small book, but it had no title. At least their weren't anything that would poison her brain like those other books she had seen in his possession. She didn't know what the book was and she didn't care. She needed to read something to keep her from reaching insanity. Johanna heard her mother had gone insane and roamed the streets. She did not want to become like her. She was a good girl. She had always obeyed and followed rules, hadn't she?
Johanna tiptoed back to her room. She didn't want to be seen out of her room, no matter what "freedoms" she had revived from her guardian. She snuk back into her room and sat by the window, noting that the grey sky and the pouring rain and fit her mood. She pressed her hand against the window, imagining that the raindrops caressing her windows glass were her tears. She wanted to cry, she did. But couldn't find herself to. She had always remained strong and chose to in gore the urge to cry, even when she was little. She knew how it upset her guardian and others around her. She knew to be strong and silent, rather than foolish and loud.
Weren't they the same thing? She asked herself.
She flipped the book upon to the first page and began to read. She noticed at once that this was all hand written. The ink was dry, but she continued to read. She wasn't going to complain, but she wanted a book that was perhaps made by a machine. Johanna read the first few pages before realizing the book she now held grasped in her hands. Not only did it belong to Judge Turpin, but it was his diary. She let out a small gasp, knowing this would be sorely missed. She didn't want him to think she was being nosy. It was an honest mistake. Johanna felt a sudden drop in her stomach.
