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Tales of Tilly.

Reflection.

By Dawn EarnshawPublished 2 years ago 3 min read

I looked at the broken mirror and the reflection was not of my own, that I saw looking back in the conservatory, it was a vine that looked like a snake had twisted and entwined itself around about us. It seemed as though the room was filling with steam, so I opened the windows at the top of the wrought iron staircase and instantly could feel the air and oxygen coming through. It was a hot summers day with the Sun out in full force glaring at the pained glass, showing every scratch from the cleaning of the windows over the years. The blinding refractions coming from all around the conservatory,the tiny droplets of water I had sprayed on the Elderflower. Hated the damn white flowers to give birth to the poisonous berries,the whole damn thing was irritatingingly devious,white petal flowers like whiter than white to show off virginity and then the red blood stained berries that represented the earth women of periods,these bleeds where your stomach would bloat and cramp like you had eaten the bloody berries causing severe stomach trauma.Then childbirth if you were cursed with such an infliction without a wedding ring.

Luckily I got to work with a crazy old man who was obsessed his wife was in the Conservatory.

To be perfectly honest with you I hated being in the Conservatory,it gave me the goosebumps every time I would assend the thing and knowing that poor Mrs Laiman had slipped and broke her neck at the bottom didn't help. Why Mr Laiman was insistent that there was to be the mirror that cracked that Mrs Laiman was looking through at the time around the Elderflower was beyond me.

Very odd gentleman, nice and polite and all that, but quietly and oddly moved about the house talking to her. Obviously he was stark raving mad, she was dead. However he was insistent that she was talking to him.

I just left him to his bizarre notions of his conversations with his dead wife.

Anyway as long as my bank note was left each month in my basket I didn't mind his odd behaviour and mumblings.

It was Saturday and payday couldn't wait to see Hollie and Joseph, my youngest sister and brother,twins and their birthday, I was really excited as I had asked Mr Laiman if it would be possible to take a portion of fruits and vegetables from the garden, immaculately kept and all healthy foods grew, he mumbled and I took that as a yes. I couldn’t inform the Gardeners or Gardner as I never saw anyone attend them, colliding chore times I would imagine.

so I packed my basket and put fresh bread in too that had been delivered from the Town in Shropshire, as it was particularly hard on Father after Mother dying from giving childbirth to Hollie and Joseph. He seemed to loose all his spark and zest for life, and the Rose garden with beautiful roses all kinds and colours, he grew for Mother.

I must confess I still hear the screams my Mother made from the night of Hollie and Joseph’s birth. Father wouldn’t look at them and I had a deep pain at times in my heart about the whole nightmare and I feel that Hollie and Joseph have been neglected of paternal love, so I help and visit as often as I can, but Father needs the money I earn for the upkeep of the house and my Sister and Brother. So I really don’t mind working away to contribute.

we had a lovely day, we ate, shared stories of what had been happening in Skipperdale whilst I was away. How Father had just started to prune and toil the Garden again, it was most wonderful that things seemed to be finally lifting from dark, sad and dowdy to bright sunshine and happiness again. I kissed them all goodbye and gave Father a big hug and kiss on the cheek and thanked him for a wonderful day and made my way back to Havenshure Manor.

Character DevelopmentPlot Development

About the Creator

Dawn Earnshaw

Loves writing short stories and poems - learning punctuation and Grammar.ADHD

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Comments (1)

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  • Test2 years ago

    This reads like an excerpt, which I'm assuming it is. It was very interesting with lots of characters and nice descriptions. My constructive criticism without going sentence by sentence is to split some of your run-on sentences, and maybe flesh out some of the ideas you're introducing, by maybe dedicating just a few more words into each sentence. Of course, there's a certain voice this reads with in the way you've written it that I enjoy as well, and I think some of the run-on sentences help with that.

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