Polished Glass Heart Excerpt
A illustrated novella project currently in the works. Started in 2017.
A illustrated novella project currently in the works. Started in 2017.
Her brand-new brochure was stained by the sudden rain. So much for Fairweather Mills. The young girl hurried to pack it safely away. She reached into her belongings for an umbrella, then sighed when it was nowhere to be found. It was all the way home.
Thirteen-year-old Millicent Ofori was just one of newer students to the school. She was hopeful she'd fit in should she try. Great efforts make great results. Or so her father declared, while he raised up her acceptance letter for his guests to see. For many, Fairweather was a step above the rest.
The school was once land used to grow wheat. When the owner passed away, the farm was sold off to a wealthy man. He wished to build a place where children, local and from faraway could be taught together.
That was the little she could recite from yesterday's opening ceremony. Hours before, she waved her goodbyes to her mother and aunt, pulled her suitcase from the gaps in the pavement and lined up with several other children.
For Fairweather Mills was a boarding school, and Millicent was no longer living with her family, and wouldn't for some time.
Her father was moving up north for a project, her mother stayed put for her tutoring services. She once found an opened letter on the kitchen counter-top. Millicent dared not touch it; the envelope was marked confidential, and it wasn't for her to know. Her father left a day sooner than she did, and the letter disappeared. She walked by a building with many windows. In her passing reflection, Millicent checked both her blazer and tie for the second time.
All attending students had to be in uniform during school hours. Un-tucked shirts, hitched skirts and odd coloured socks were a no go. And Millicent was told it was best to stay clear from trouble.
"When I misbehaved as a child, I would kneel and hold that for an hour!"
A few steps past the school laboratories was an unused bike shelter; just one bike lock hung off the posts. She stood underneath, wriggling her hands into her pockets. Red and yellow leaves soaked in small puddles or clung to the rooftops. The air nudged at her feet and whistled as it passed. She opened the brochure again.
Thirteen-year-old Millicent Ofori was just one of newer students to the school. She was hopeful she'd fit in should she try. Great efforts make great results. Or so her father declared, while he raised up her acceptance letter for his guests to see. For many, Fairweather was a step above the rest.
The school was once land used to grow wheat. When the owner passed away, the farm was sold off to a wealthy man. He wished to build a place where children, local and from faraway could be taught together.
That was the little she could recite from yesterday's opening ceremony. Hours before, she waved her goodbyes to her mother and aunt, pulled her suitcase from the gaps in the pavement and lined up with several other children.
For Fairweather Mills was a boarding school, and Millicent was no longer living with her family, and wouldn't for some time.
Her father was moving up north for a project, her mother stayed put for her tutoring services. She once found an opened letter on the kitchen counter-top. Millicent dared not touch it; the envelope was marked confidential, and it wasn't for her to know. Her father left a day sooner than she did, and the letter disappeared. She walked by a building with many windows. In her passing reflection, Millicent checked both her blazer and tie for the second time.
All attending students had to be in uniform during school hours. Un-tucked shirts, hitched skirts and odd coloured socks were a no go. And Millicent was told it was best to stay clear from trouble.
"When I misbehaved as a child, I would kneel and hold that for an hour!"
A few steps past the school laboratories was an unused bike shelter; just one bike lock hung off the posts. She stood underneath, wriggling her hands into her pockets. Red and yellow leaves soaked in small puddles or clung to the rooftops. The air nudged at her feet and whistled as it passed. She opened the brochure again.