Wednesday, October 21, 2015

Xander's Story Chapter 1

For those that have asked, there may be a story written in the point of view of Regan, you will have to follow my partner in writing crime, Lisa Owen. In the meantime, know that there has been a WIP of Xander's point of view for some time. It currently has a word count of almost 8000 (Eliza's is 20,130) and 14 chapters. (Eliza has 10) 
So here is the first chapter of Xander...when his story will be available, one never knows wink emoticon
Growing up, my mother would tell me of a very special family that moved to Stockholm from Romania when she was a young girl of around three years of age. A mother, Amelia and her young seven year old daughter, Eliza. According to my grandmother Elsa, Eliza was a very bright young girl who had a passion for writing. Grandmother was her school teacher and told me of a writing journal Eliza kept, that she gave to my grandmother before she moved from Stockholm after her mother had passed. Amelia had passed when Eliza was twenty one. After that she left our village to journey back to her home in Romania. My mother, Brianna, was sixteen when Eliza left. My mother told me she was very sad to see her go but had hopes that she would see her again. Eliza looked after my mother when she was young and they grew very close. Mother told me Eliza was the one to teach her to read and to love books. Eventually, my mother also kept a journal. I still have her journals. After my mother and grandmother had passed and Eliza had not come back, I assumed I would never get to meet this amazing young girl they both loved.
Brianna Bielvenstram was older than most women were then they had their first child. She had me at the age of twenty nine. I know nothing of my father, except he was not an honest or faithful man and he was barely home nor spent any time with his family. I never learned the things I should have from my father such as hunting. Luckily, the men in our village adopted me and taught me everything I needed to know. Even to this day, I am unsure of why she stayed with him. Though I am much like him, I am trying to be a better man. The last thing I remember about him is he has been gone from around my thirteenth birthday to almost my fourteenth. Many months after he had come back, at the age of forty three, my mother gave birth to my only sibling, my brother Liam. Father had left right before he was born. Mother had died as my grandmother brought Liam into the world. I never saw my father again and I am glad I never did.
I, like my mother, never thought about love. I was much older than most when I found my first love. I was too busy helping my grandmother raise my brother, being a father to him because ours was not there. My grandmother, though she still taught until she just couldn’t anymore, was reaching an age where most of the women in our village passed on. At the age of twenty four I knew she would not be with us much longer and her declining health did not make this realization any easier. My brother being only ten years of age, still needed to learn so much and I was soon to be his only family. Our grandmother passed shortly before my thirtieth birthday, right after Liam had turned sixteen. At the age of seventy seven, our grandmother was the oldest woman in our village at the time. I remember some of her last words to me as if she spoke them to me today: “Xander, I will be with your mother soon. She would be so proud of you and Liam. I want you to be happy. I know you have an eye for the new girl that moved to the village,” I did, “she would make a beautiful bride and a wonderful mother.” Grandmother passed shortly after, with my brother and I at her side. Britta did make a beautiful bride and I loved her with everything I had in me.
I met my true love at the age of thirty. It was obvious that my grandmother liked her, which may have made me fall in love with her even more. Because I dedicated many years to raising my brother, I was considered very old and the people of my village wondered if I would ever marry. Britta, at the age of twenty, moved to our village about a month before my thirtieth birthday. She had lived about a hundred miles from my village before coming here. All of the single men in our village fell instantly for her. But I was the lucky one that she could not keep her eyes off of.
I remember the day she moved into our village. I had just come back from hunting with some of the men in the village. Her and her parents were in the town square. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever laid eyes on. Golden blond hair in loose curls down the middle of her back. Blue eyes that sparkled as the sun hit them. And a smile that lit up the whole country. I knew from the the moment I saw her, that I must make her my wife.

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