My Writers Circle

The Coffee Shop => Writing Games & Challenges => Topic started by: DwWin on December 11, 2006, 08:12:50 AM

Title: Challenge 21.....Voting
Post by: DwWin on December 11, 2006, 08:12:50 AM
Please vote for your favourite, personaly I would like to have voted for all three!!


“My dear Jasper,” the handwritten letter had begun.  I’d read and then re-read the contents before I slid the letter back into its vellum envelope, dropping it into the drawer of my bureau before turning the key with an air of finality. The news contained within it had hit me like a bolt of unexpected lightning; quickly followed by a loud crack as my bough of the family tree was sheared from its ancient trunk. 

So, according to Uncle Cuthbert, it would appear that the true blue Barrington-Smythe blood doesn’t course through these veins of mine after all.  I left my study and paused briefly in the expanse of the hallway where the portrait of Sir Digby Barrington-Smythe stared down upon me from the chimney breast.  How deluded I had been to even think that this imposing man and I shared a certain resemblance. I stood before the canvas and re-examined those familiar features and for the first time in my life I realised that what I had taken to be a noble mouth was in fact a sneer; the sophisticated eyes were hooded and the aristocratic chin was merely weak.  But those familial traits were just a shell; it was the poisoned blood, the tainted genes that really mattered.  Sir Digby had ceased to be an ancestor of mine and I was more glad of it than anyone could possibly know.

As the storm clouds created by my Uncle’s letter cleared from my mind, they left a cloudless blue sky in their wake.  I raced two steps at a time up the grand staircase towards the third floor nursery where I scooped up my beloved baby son, to the horror of the child’s Nanny.
   “Oh Mr Jasper sir, do be careful!” she wailed.
   “Why Nanny?” I laughed, “he’s a perfectly healthy boy in the arms of his perfectly healthy father.”

          My morning cup of tea
                                                                                                                              I opened the letter with a sense of anticipation. I love getting hand written post, so much better than the usual brown enveloped bills. I made a cup of tea and sat down to savour my letter.
The letter was from my second cousin, Brian. I hated Brian. He was always criticising the family, he is a bitter, twisted man.
As I read the letter, a slow chill spread through my body, but my face felt warm. My eyes filled with tears, I blinked, trying to focus on the words in front of me. I sat at the table for a while, staring into space, then I blew my nose and tried to read the letter again.
   Brian seemed to find pleasure in letting me know that I was adopted. How could that be? I always felt so close to my dad, we both loved mushy peas and hated oranges; everyone says I take after my dad.
Brian informed me that all the family knew; everyone except me that is. Apparently my parents tried for years to conceive, but in the end, they adopted me.

    I folded the letter and put it back in the envelope. The letter dropped into my lap as I sat at the table reminiscing about my childhood. I took a sip of my tea and pulled a face, the tea had gone cold. I sighed and put the kettle on again. While I waited for the water to boil, I remembered my dad teaching me to ride my first bike. He shouted for joy the first time I rode it all the way up our garden path.

  I poured the water into the teapot and sat back down to wait for it to brew. I saw the image of my mum watching me in my first Christmas play. She’d stayed up half the night sewing my angel costume. She still has a framed photo of me wearing it on the mantelpiece.

     As I absorbed the letter, I realised that I didn’t mind being adopted, in a way it made me feel special to know that my parents chose me. But why hadn’t they told me? Did they think that I would love them any less? I wouldn’t have.

   I threw the letter in the bin. It didn’t matter, I love my parents and they love me. I sipped my tea and smiled.


I read the note on my hand and began to tremble. Was this just some stupid joke that Peter was playing on me. The next words I heard shattered my world.

“I’m so sorry to be the one to have to show you the letter, but we all thought you had a right to know the truth.” Said Peter.

Charlotte looked into Peter’s eyes and realised that he wasn’t lying. She had known him long enough to know when he was.


Peter pulled Charlotte towards him and she felt safe in his arms. She began to cry. Soft tears flowed onto Peter’s shirt, but he didn’t mind, he just held her tighter.

In an effort to compose herself, Charlotte pushed herself away from Peter and walked toward the window. Everything she looked at was different now. The colours of the trees were greener somehow, and the tiny bird’s song was so much sweeter.

The note was still crunched up in her hand. Part of her was relieved to finally know who she was, but there was also a part that wanted to desperately grasp onto the past. What did this mean for her now? Perhaps this is why she had always felt she was so different to the rest of her family.

She turned away from the window and looked at Peter, who was standing by the fireplace. As the flames crackled behind him, Charlotte saw Peter in a new light. His eyes glistened and she loved the way he always put his hands into his pockets and stared at the floor when he was nervous.

He was no longer her brother. He was just someone she knew. He was someone she wanted to get to know a lot better.

Charlotte walked towards the fire and threw the note into the flames. Peter held his breath as Charlotte kissed him.
Title: Re: Challenge 21.....Voting
Post by: N.Mott on December 11, 2006, 12:00:38 PM
Oh, b**ger, they're all great. I'm going to have to toss for it!