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Here is the first bit of my Creative Writing project:
Eugene, his goddaughter cradled in his arms, stood before the parlour fire, and let its warmth replace the chill of this odd August day. There would be flurries tonight, if the cast of the sky was to be believed. Bethany stirred some, and he began to rock her, and while humming softly, absently, thought on how she'd grown so since he'd seen her last; moving from infant to child. Still, she was light and comforting in his embrace. The passage back from France had not been easy, and while he disliked ocean travel on the best of days, this journey had left him with a residual disquiet he could not seem to lose. Perhaps though, it was the fears of those around him that prevented any calming of his spirits. Two periods of frost had, quite unexpectedly, swept through the region and decimated crops. Now it appeared there would be no relief, no chance to salvage what little remained of this growing season. He looked through the window, where fine traces of ice had begun to form on the panes, and out to the barren limbs of the tree that stood before the house. The winter to come would be brutal.
Agnes entered the room, ending Eugene's reverie. He turned towards her, and gave a small smile which she returned though her's was tinged with exhaustion.
"Supper is ready, if you'd like something now." Her voice was soft and somewhat subdued; nothing like what he remembered.
He shifted Bethany so that her head now rested against his shoulder. "Is everything alright?" He waved his free hand at the window. "Aside from the obvious, of course."
Agnes gave a small nod and stepped closer. "Yes, honestly, everything is fine. It's just been a long summer, and Paul has done nothing but worry." She began to gently stroke Bethany's fine hair. "You know how he can get."
"Yes." His voice took on a bemused quality, as a multitude of memories slipped through his mind. "Yes, I know quite well. He'd put a mother hen to shame."
A full, strong laugh came suddenly from Agnes, and, though she did try to stifle it with the back of her hand, Bethany awoke with a start and a complaint. Eugene made shushing noises while he gently patted the little girl's back. It took but only a moment to mollify her, and then he looked inquiringly to Agnes, whose shoulders were still shaking with mirth. "It was an apt, and perhaps slightly amusing, description of your husband, but I'm not certain it was that humorous."
Agnes pulled herself together with some effort, laughter trailing off into a light cough. "No perhaps it wasn't, but...oh this is awful." She pressed her lips together in an attempt to hide a grin, but failed.
"Then you must tell me." He leaned his head down to look in her eyes. "Simply must."
And now we are off to 1850 St. Augustine.
Eugene, his goddaughter cradled in his arms, stood before the parlour fire, and let its warmth replace the chill of this odd August day. There would be flurries tonight, if the cast of the sky was to be believed. Bethany stirred some, and he began to rock her, and while humming softly, absently, thought on how she'd grown so since he'd seen her last; moving from infant to child. Still, she was light and comforting in his embrace. The passage back from France had not been easy, and while he disliked ocean travel on the best of days, this journey had left him with a residual disquiet he could not seem to lose. Perhaps though, it was the fears of those around him that prevented any calming of his spirits. Two periods of frost had, quite unexpectedly, swept through the region and decimated crops. Now it appeared there would be no relief, no chance to salvage what little remained of this growing season. He looked through the window, where fine traces of ice had begun to form on the panes, and out to the barren limbs of the tree that stood before the house. The winter to come would be brutal.
Agnes entered the room, ending Eugene's reverie. He turned towards her, and gave a small smile which she returned though her's was tinged with exhaustion.
"Supper is ready, if you'd like something now." Her voice was soft and somewhat subdued; nothing like what he remembered.
He shifted Bethany so that her head now rested against his shoulder. "Is everything alright?" He waved his free hand at the window. "Aside from the obvious, of course."
Agnes gave a small nod and stepped closer. "Yes, honestly, everything is fine. It's just been a long summer, and Paul has done nothing but worry." She began to gently stroke Bethany's fine hair. "You know how he can get."
"Yes." His voice took on a bemused quality, as a multitude of memories slipped through his mind. "Yes, I know quite well. He'd put a mother hen to shame."
A full, strong laugh came suddenly from Agnes, and, though she did try to stifle it with the back of her hand, Bethany awoke with a start and a complaint. Eugene made shushing noises while he gently patted the little girl's back. It took but only a moment to mollify her, and then he looked inquiringly to Agnes, whose shoulders were still shaking with mirth. "It was an apt, and perhaps slightly amusing, description of your husband, but I'm not certain it was that humorous."
Agnes pulled herself together with some effort, laughter trailing off into a light cough. "No perhaps it wasn't, but...oh this is awful." She pressed her lips together in an attempt to hide a grin, but failed.
"Then you must tell me." He leaned his head down to look in her eyes. "Simply must."
And now we are off to 1850 St. Augustine.