Tears Of Joy And Hate by N.L.Gallagher (best motivational novels TXT) 📖

Chapter One:


I walked down the sidewalk, my hips swaying to my imaginary music. My heels clicking in a steady rhythm on the concrete. I stumbled, catching myself before I could land face first in the street. I looked behind me to see some prostitutes just sitting around and also my shadow. I smiled and laughed as I made my shadow dance around in some sort of crazy jig. I swung my arms and spun around in circles, my blonde hair swinging in my face with the blue eyes and the rosy red lips and high cheekbones that sculpt my face perfectly. In shorter words, I was beautiful.
Plain simple. I looked up at the sky, and gasped in surprise and pleasure when I felt a huge raindrop land on my nose. I laughed and giggled as the raindrops came harder, and soon I was completely soaked. I spread my arms out wide, enjoying the way the water seems to just soak into my skin and refresh me. I laughed and cried out loud as tears of joy run out of my eyes. Yeah, that’s one weird thing about me, I always cry when I feel mad, happy, embarrassed and just about every other emotion. I was extremely sensitive. I stopped twirling and looked down at my dress and frock, seeing that it was completely ruined. I shrugged and skipped home and although I was 17 years old I knew that I looked like a child.
I walked down the street to a two story Victorian house that sat a bit more regally than others. The color was a baby blue and the window panes were a plain but gorgeous white. The lawn was perfectly cut. Not one weed seen, not one patch of dirt uncovered. There was a white picket fence around the entire perimeter of the house and it just about hid the entire yard. Like if you didn’t live there you wouldn’t have known that there was a dead dog buried in the yard and all there was to show that it was even there was a headstone saying the name of the dog.
If you hadn’t lived there your whole life then you wouldn’t know the cruelty behind the walls of the home that haunted everyone in it. You wouldn’t know that the family’s only hope was sick of being depended on. You wouldn’t know how they felt because they always put on a front around others. In that house lived a girl named Kethilya Hamilton. Which just so happen to also be me.
I opened the gate and walked up to the front porch and hesitated before opening the door that soon lead to too much make-up and very heavy material dresses. I breathed out a heavy sigh and walked in, only to be pushed right back out by a strong chest. I stumbled backwards and if I had been able to stop myself I would have but then it wouldn’t have been appropriate for the fact that my under garments may have shown. So I fell on the rear end and looked up to see a surprised face of a young man who looked as the HE was the one who went through the rain. The whole of the front of his shirt was wet, and his black hair was disheveled and sticking in tangents. He looked down at me for a while I assessed his appearance. He had eyes the color of chocolate; his smile was dazzling as he held out a hand for me. I took it, getting up as daintily as I could, careful not to step on his fairly nice shoes. I brushed myself off, and in the process, ripped a bit of my frock. I stared down at it as a blush crept into my face. I looked away and ran passed him through the door, all the while feeling his gaze on my back. I run up the stairs, knowing that my parents would soon hear my presence. I pass by my little brother’s room on the way to my own. He poked his head out to see who it was rampaging through the halls at such an hour. I looked at him and he whispered.
“Dear sister, do you not know that it is only 7 o’clock in the morning?”
“Yes, darling Henry. I knew of the time.” I reply back, sweetly.
He shook his head as his eyes adjust to the dimly lit hallway.
“Why are so thoroughly soaked? Where have you been? Do mother and father know of your whereabouts?” He questioned.
I laughed and he thought the worst immediately. “You haven’t lost your virtue, have you?”
I shook my head, shocked at the idea of such a crude suggestion.
I walk down towards my room and undress myself out of my frock. I hear the door open and in came my maid, Ms. Rakiyah.
She curtsied and mumbled good morning.
“Good morning, Rakiyah. How was your slumber?”
She looked up at me and smiled timidly as she always did and explained her night, and dreams. I laughed at the funny parts and cried with her at the sad; she shared every detail with me because I really want to know. I always want to know the welfare of my maid and house servants. I call them maids and servants only because I have too. If I don’t then I’ll be put to the same treatment as them. I sat down as a 14 year old girl brushed out my hair like she were a slave, but was chatting happily at the same time. She was taken from her parents at birth and raised in our house as a servant. She loved what she had to do though. She loved cleaning and brushing my hair and dressing me. Just as I was about to ask her why she loved her job so much, in came my mother with a beautiful gown that was obviously made for me because she was much too big for it. She placed it down carefully as if is going to just evaporate.
“Kethilya, darling, you have a ball to attend tonight so you will wear this. It will be a special night,” she squealed like a gossipy girl and continued. “I can just feel it!”
She ran out of the room, not even looking at me as she talked the whole time. Faster than when she came in, she was gone. I smiled at Rakiyah as I picked up the heavy material and examined it closely. I held it out to Rakiyah, letting her look at it and appreciate the white dress. It was a creamy white dress that fluffed out at the bottom and flowed with every step. I admired the dress from every angle, already excited for the ball to begin. And already forgetting about the mysterious boy from earlier.


It was lit with chandeliers, and full of people who looked handsome and beautiful. The ball had started by the time I walked in with mother, father and my brother. I spotted my friends instantly and left my family’s side to go and chat with them happily.
“Dalylah, darling, how is your new bunny?” I asked nicely, hoping to hear good news. But she has yet to surprise me by actually caring of such a matter.
“Oh, that poor drastic thing! It used the loo constantly and always wanted to be alone, so I gave him back to the store and demanded my money back.” She rolled her eyes and I thought, well you wouldn’t like it if someone just left you sitting around helpless.
But I didn’t say it. All I did was smile with her sweetly.
“You poor girl. That rabbit was a deprived thing, but it was your pet and you promised your father that you would take care of this new one.” I smiled pleasantly at her, knowing that she would never even dare try to say something tremendously wrong to me. I was the leader, she was a cossetted underdog. I turned away from her afflicted face, knowing that all she wanted to do was kill me painfully and slowly and although the thought makes me want to cry, I don’t let it show on my face. To all, I was an enticing treat but was like a viscous lapdog. I loved to be myself but, the reputation of my family would be derelict as we were the imperially calm but cold household. But then the music started and I lost myself into the music and found myself swaying. I gasp in surprise as I am swept away by a handsome young man who grinned at me and a slow blush spread along my face as I watched him, not letting him see just how hard I was focusing on our feet, yet trying dearly not to trample his fairly nice shoes. I closed my eyes and let the music take me away as I lost all feeling except the dance.


With eyes that shine,
Like light on glass,
With no more than the usual pass,
Of a glance.
And from your wandering gaze,
You obviously try not to make haste,
Of the beautiful sights your eyes just might take.
I would always hope that you would see me,
As i see you,
All my feelings that ive said are 100% true,
Because one day you might give me your love,
As i just might give you mine.

Publication Date: 10-05-2011

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Dedication:
Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre