Writing Magic (1) Continude...

On my first Writing Magic post I had lots of people say they liked it and could not wait for more. Well I have to agree, I can't wait for more! Even though I wrote it, it still amazes me when I read what I write. It seems like I am reading it for the first time. When I write on paper I have a hard time thinking of things to write but when I write on the computer it seems like the words just fly though my fingertips. So in a way I know what I'm writing but I don't.

Anyways. I have been told that this is not quite as good as the first chapter I wrote but I'm working on it and I feel that this will have to go in the story somewhere so it might as well be at the beginning. Oh, and her names are a little confusing but see if you can read it with out getting to confused and if you do then tell me why it was confusing and I'll try to change them. Also I'm not sure if I should spit it into two chapters or have it as one. Tell me what you think!

Chapter 2: Finding out.

Our orphanage is on a farm so it teaches us about farm life (and on a farm there are enough chores for all the kids in the orphaning to do their share).

So here is a rundown of my normal day: Wake-up at 7:00 (am), eat breakfast, do morning chores, get ready for school, School starts at 10:00. I’m in school until the bell rings at 2:00 (with a lunch break at noon) after that I do homework and then I’m free to play. At 6:30 we have dinner and more chores (OK we each have one chore after dinner, besides washing are dishes). Again we have free time until bed (or showers (9:00) depending on the day) at 9:45. Oh I forgot to mention that we have computer time. The orphanage owns 5 computers, but there are 163 orphans living here (aging from infant to 18). We do not get computer privileges till we are 7 years old. And sins there are only 5 computers we each have a time slot (mine is in the mornings before school). So that’s about it. Except for on weekends we are allowed to stay up until 10:45.

But when I heard my story it was not a normal day (well really it was not a normal night).
I was 12 when the Head Mistress told me my story. I had been called into her office at 9:30 one night. At first I had thought I did something wrong (forgot to feed the chickens or something) but no... She sat me down in the chair opposite her and looked at me with somewhat of a sympathetic but happy look in her eyes.


“I think it is time you learned your story.” I smiled at her and sat up strait. “Now hold on. There one or two things you need to know. One is that the story your about to know must never be told to anyone else. Is that clear?” I nodded a little nervously. “And in the second place if anyone found out who you are very, very bad things might occur.” My smile started to fayed. “Here…” she handed me a letter. It was old and worn but not so old that it was falling apart. I unfolded it and read…

“8-23-1996
This child that I am placing in your care and the care of this orphaning has a very special story behind her life.

Her name is Celia Winterby. She is 1 week old, born August 16 1996. Three days after she was born her home was burned to the ground in a fire that most think was a deliberate fire. Her parents, Kent and Margret Winterby were killed in that fire.”

The writer went on to tell the story of my short life before the fire and then about the fire and then concluded the letter with:


“Margret Winterby was my closest and most best friend. I plead with you, tell the child her story but only when she can understand it for herself. If this got out it could lead to crucial and dire things. I want to keep the child but dare not for I fear I am watched at my own home.

Give the girl her mother’s locket on her 13th birthday (for that is the tradition in her family) and if Celia ever grows up and has a daughter of her own she must replace the pictures for that of herself and her best friend and give it to her daughter on the occasion of her 13th birthday.


Change her name. Change her birth date. Change anything you can.

With all my hope and trust,
M.A.”


Next to the “M” there was an erased letter that I tried to make out, an “I” maybe or an “L”. I looked up from the letter when I had finished reading, tears about to start cascading down my cheeks. I’m not the type who cries much but I did now. Head Mistress rushed to me and hugged me to her.

“I’m sorry if it was too much for you dear but you had to know,” she said. I shook my head trying to get a breath in to answer.


“No,” I sob, “You… you did the right thing… t’… tell… telling me now.” I continued to cry.

“Would you like to have the locket now?” Head Mistress asked me. I shook my head.


“No,” I raised my head and looked into her eyes, “I must wait until my 13th birthday,” I gave a weak smile, “for that is what my mother wishes.” She nodded.

“But may I have the letter?” I asked. She picked it up from the floor where I had dropped it, “Of course dear.”


I stayed in her office till 11:00 that night (it was a weekend) waiting for all signs of my tears to vanish before I went up to bed, hoping the others would be asleep, for I felt that if they asked me about what I was doing in the Head Mistress’s office I would start to cry. I would feel better in the morning and would be able to confront them. I lay in bed thinking to myself, I am a different girl. Not just because of my eyes but because of my story. I am someone special. I have two names; two families; two birthdays. I sat up, looked at my clock, 12:00, midnight, she would be sleeping by now. I lay back down and continued to think. What shall I tell the others? What? What? What?


The next morning as soon as I was done with breakfast I knocked at Head Mistress’s office door.
“Come in,” was the reply. I entered.


“Ma’m?”

“Ah, good morning dearie, sleep OK?”

“As good as can be expected ma’m.”


“Good. Is there something you wanted to see me about?”

“I was thinking last night. And I had a thought that when I came here you changed my name, my birthday, and in a way my past. I know I cannot go back to my original name or tell anyone about my past and I can’t even have my real birthday, but would it be OK if maybe you and I could have our own celebration on my real birthday?”

“Salina-”


“Celia, just between you and me?”

She smiled. “Celia, I don’t think we can. If the other kids found out they would want theirs to be special too.”


“But I don’t mean have a whole nother party but on my real birthday I could come and talk to you?”

“You can talk to me whenever you like Celia. I suppose we might do it, if you like. But do not make a big deal out if it and don’t tell the other children.”


“Thank you ma’m. I have one more question.”

“What’s that?”


“Why did you make my pretend birthday a month later than my real one?”

“The letter said I had to change as much as I could however much I could. And I thought making you a month younger would be a good way to through anyone who may still be looking for you off your track.”


“You think there may still be someone looking for me?”

“I can’t say Celia, but if there is we must take every precaution.”


“Yes ma’m. Thank you.” I left her office and as I stepped out the door I was once again Salina Witherbe.