Dear Readers,
Welcome to the prologue of my new series My Sister's Memories. None of this would be possible without the help of my dear friends at Scribbler's Abode. Thanks to all their wonderful advice on picture taking, feedback, and ideas this story is possible. I would like to thank Ivi-o for the wonderful siggy she made me. Rosered {Loves Westerfeld}, Molly -Nilla Wafers, Maddi, and Black Lady/marijafranka for proofreading. Also, all the others who had to sit out all my grueling posts about the story. Thank you!! I love you all!
The story's about to begin, so sit back and enjoy!
Sincerely Yours,
Dunkle15444

I sat on the front steps, my elbows resting on my knees, waiting. Always waiting for that bright yellow school bus, with all the happy children. Children that weren?t so special they could attend school. A robin landed a few feet away from me, and pecked at the wet ground.
?Hello, Robin. How are you today?? He looked at me, and flew away. I would never have any friends, not even a robin. I couldn?t even be like Snow White, but that was Her kind of thought. I quickly shook it from my head, and concentrated on the dirt road coming out of the woods that surrounded our house, Golden Willow, on three sides. The fourth was bordered by the Willoughby River, named after my ancestors on my mother's side. It ran all the way alongside the village, which was also named Willoughby. For some reason, the villagers despised our family, but that was just another of the mysteries in my life.

Come on. Come on! I willed the the bus. As if my thoughts could control it, I heard the rumble of it?s motor as it came around the bend, and into view. The gears groaned as it came to a halt at the end of our drive. Kieran stepped off the bus; her tote slung over her shoulder, and waved to her many friends. I sighed as I wished so much I could be like her. The wrought iron gate at the end of the front walk squeaked as my cousin pushed it open.
?Oh, Natasha. Could you come and help your poor, crippled sister? My books are just so heavy. I might hurt my self,? Kieran bellowed melodramatically. I cringed at the word `sister.? She was not my sister. My sister was dead and buried. Found dead on her ninth birthday, September 9th. The same date as my birthday nine years later. Oh how my parents must have loved her to name me, their second daughter, after her. ?Natasha, now!? I leapt up to do her bidding, God forbid she does something to hurt herself again, and break another limb.

She threw her tote at me, and limped up the front walk. I missed, and her books scattered on the ground. One notebook landing in a puddle, I reached to save it from soiling completely. Too late, she saw. ?Second and Worst Natasha, what have you done now?? I hid the evidence behind my back. ?I saw you; you threw my notebook in that puddle! Just wait till daddy hears what his little angel has done now!? She spit at me, racing up the steps. She threw open the door, her apricot colored hair swinging behind her, and slammed it behind her, cutting off her cry for my father. I shoved it back in the bag, and sprinted inside. Up the spiraling stairs to my hide-away, the tower.

The tower was small, but that was fine with me. It?s only furnishings were an old, stained Turkish rug, and a large pillow for me to sit on. Boxes lined one wall, almost touching the ceiling. I glanced out the window. There was Kieran showing daddy the puddle. I couldn?t watch, so I flopped down onto the pillow. I sat there, combing the fringe on the rug for who knows how long. I heard them calling my name. Let them think I?m missing. I was only second rate anyway. They would never love me as much as they loved the first Natasha. The wind chimes that were suspended from above on silk chords, started to clamor. I looked up, but they were not moving. There wasn?t even a wind to stir them. I jumped up and tapped them, making them move. I decided they had suffered enough, and decided to come down. Now they would appreciate me.

As I hastily made my way down the stairs, I heard my mother and father talking below. ?Why does she have to be such a hassle? I?m sick and tired of her pulling stunts like this. We give her so much, and how does she repay us? She does stuff like run off! That?s what!? Daddy lectured mommy. ?She?ll never be like our old Natasha.? They were talking about me. Well, I didn?t ask to be born. Especially with Her name. I?d had enough! I burst into tears and somehow found my way down the rest of those narrow, winding stairs to my room.

I flung my self on my bed, and cried myself to sleep. I woke at some point and felt mommy?s lips brush against my cheek. She slipped out, the door making a clicking sound as it secured. I flitted in and out of sleep; tossing and turning. Dreams of the woods, birthday parties, and school. I knew these were Her memories, as I had never had a birthday party or been to school, and the only time I had ever been in the woods was when daddy took us to town in our only car. I had no memories, I couldn?t remember anything from my seven years of life. I couldn?t even remember the previous day, or what I wore last Wednesday.

I heard footsteps outside my door. I pulled my legs up against my stomach. The door inched open, and moonlight from the hall made a streak across the wood floor. Daddy stood there, leaning against the jab, in only his plaid pajama bottoms. He padded softly across the room, and made his way to my bed. I squeezed my violet-colored eyes tight, knowing what he wanted. He whispered my name; careful not to wake anybody from there slumber.

He stroked my long, unruly blond curls, that he called witchy hair. Hair just like mommy?s. Hair of a million colors that didn?t know which one to be. I didn?t respond. He shook my shoulder, lightly at first then with more strength. ?I know you?re awake. Why don?t you answer me, Natasha? You know I love you, and only want the best for you.? I turned to face him. His dark eyes sparkled like polished onyx. He held out his hand for me to take. I took it, and allowed him to pull me out of bed. My feet touched the cold floor, as my nightie unfolded to full length so the lace edging just grazed the tops of my toes.

He led me out of my room, down the hall to The room. Her room. He reached into his pocket, and produced an old fashioned skeleton key. He fit it into the lock and turned it slightly to left. As if by some unseen force, the door opened. I glanced around looking for an escape, but found none. I nervously swallowed the lumped in my throat, and tried to resist. He was stronger though, and soon yanked me roughly into the room. I glanced about, looking at the horror that awaited me.

I hope you enjoyed the prologue of My Sister's Memories. The first chapter will be out shortly. Once again, I would like to thank all my friends at www.scribblersabode.com.
Check out my blog for more information.
Sincerely yours,
Dunkle15444