Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. The Girl in the White Chiffon Dress by Cynthia A. Lewis (read out loud books txt) 📖
- Author: Cynthia A. Lewis
Book online «The Girl in the White Chiffon Dress by Cynthia A. Lewis (read out loud books txt) 📖». Author Cynthia A. Lewis
Coming from the wealthy side of town, I get to wear the finest clothes and go to the best schools. Yet, I feel restless. From the window where I practice my piano, I see urchins in the streets playing and getting dirty. “Sigh.” They look so carefree and happy.
“Stop daydreaming, Amelia,” mother scolds from her chair in the music room.
I return to my minuet.
“Finish up your lesson and we will go for a walk,” she announces.
I finish quickly, close the cover over the keys and jump up.I tie my blond hair up in a black ribbon. Mother picks out my lovely white chiffon with the blue satin sash which ties into a big bow in the back. ‘Ugh! White. No getting dirty in that,’ I dismay, silently.
Mother checks in the mirror to position her hat over her lovely auburn hair, and picks up the mystery she’s been reading.
“Come, Cheri,” she coos as she picks up our cocker spaniel puppy. She puts Cheri on her leash, and we head out the door. Mother does not believe in public displays of affection. I do not think she believes in signs of affection at all, at least not towards me.
I walk quietly just a little behind her.Occasionally, breaking into a skip, when I think she isn’t looking. She has her book open and is deeply involved in it. On the way, neighbors stop mother to pet Cheri.
“What a polite child,” Miss Harney compliments when I call her “ma’am,” and give her a smart curtsy.
At the park, mother finds a bench to sit and read her novel. Cheri curls up comfortably in her lap. I feel like a prisoner looking through the bars of the iron fence that encloses the park.
Publication Date: 02-05-2011
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