This was an assignment for Geography ( don't ask) and I was just going to post it. I might decide to split it in half (two parts) because it's 12 pages long....
In an area on the outskirts of London, near the Thames River in England, lived a middle-aged couple with no children. However, one day to their great joy, Ross Walter and his wife Flora, found out they were about to have a child.
He and Flora began to plan for their baby’s future. Ross worked extra hard for money, even took another job to aid his family while Flora was served like a queen.
Every Thursday Ross would come home with seventy pounds and save half for the baby. Flora always smiled whenever Ross would come home with a bouquet of imported sunflowers, her favorite flower. This truly made her feel like a queen.
One rainy in autumn the husband came home, coughing and hacking. He had to stop working for weeks and he didn’t get any better.
He began to become delusional and very weak. He could barely sit up. A couple days later he died.
His wife, now alone with their unborn baby, became very grief-stricken and never could sleep.
She insisted her sister, Beatrice Conner, stay to help her. Beatrice arrived in a green bonnet and neck tight gown with two leather cases in her hands.
On a warm day in late May, Flora had given birth to the most beautiful baby the town had ever seen. She named it Ann Ross.
With the money that her husband saved she managed a savings for tuition at one of the finest boarding schools in England, the one she had gone to when she was a young girl.
When Ann Ross was five years old she heard her mother crying softly in her room in her chair with a book.
“Mommy, why are you crying?” she hesitantly asked as she creaked the door open. Her mother looked at her with red eyes and smiled.
“I’m just reading my favorite story when I was a girl. I cry when I read this silly thing. I wanted to read it to you but I still think you’re too young,” Flora sneezed.
Ann Ross slowly approached and then began to whine that she was as grown up as any of the other children in the town.
Reluctantly her mother read her the story of Cinderella, the most glorious story Ann Ross had ever heard.
She hugged her mom goodnight.
Ann Ross began school at the age of six with her tuition fees paid for until she left at age eighteen.
On her first day she stood at the tall oak doors with her cases surrounding her. She wore the uniform, a white blouse and dark blue skirt and was immediately enthralled by the schools immense hallways.
She came home during Christmas holiday for three weeks and a summer one for five weeks.
She enjoyed coming home and dipping her feet into a shallow area on the Thames River with her mother’s Cinderella story when her mother was sleeping.
“Happily ever after… they all lived happily ever after,” she repeated.
When Ann Ross had turned twelve and had come for Christmas holiday something unexpected and dreadful happened. Her mother was now terribly ill. She couldn’t get out of bed, couldn’t feed herself or even change. She was an empty vase and the sunflowers had died. She had no hope of getting better; she just sat there, day in and day out reading Cinderella over and over.
“Aunt Beatrice,” Ann Ross questioned one day, “Is mother going to be alright?”
Aunt Beatrice gazed upward and nodded.
One day at school Miss Gretchen Willow, the new headmistress of the school, marched into Ann Ross’s class and ordered the thirteen year old to follow her.
The clacking of Miss Willow’s heels was followed by the silent, curious pitter-patter of Ann Ross’s shoes. Miss Willow opened her office, marched to her desk, took a seat, and motioned for Ann Ross to take one as well.
“Ann Ross Walter, I have brought you here today to tell you of your mothers passing,” she informed without emotion, “Your Aunt Beatrice, has taken the money from your tuition here at my school to use for the funeral. I will give you a week off to go visit your family during the upcoming funeral. When you get back, however, there is still much more to be discussed.”
Ann Ross sat there, thinking. She knew her mother was sick, but she didn’t think she would die at all. She was terribly heartbroken but left the office without a tear until she fell on her bed and mourned until she fell asleep.
She arrived on a crisp morning at the cemetery. She found her Aunt Beatrice. She looked grave.
“Dear, I know how much your mother meant to you. You meant so much to her as well. Here-” she handed two rings and the Cinderella book to Ann Ross- “She wanted you to have these. After your father passed she wore his wedding ring, and now you shall wear both. Carry on their spirits, I’m too weak.”
It rained that day, dark clouds meandering around the skies with a gentle breeze swaying trees that would soon die too.
After a week of crying Ann Ross returned to her school, only to find her room empty with a notice to report to the headmistress’s office.
She walked down the long corridor and to the office where Miss Willow was. She had a strict look on he face and was pacing back and forth in her office.
“Oh, Ann Ross Walter, you have returned,” she faked a gasp.
“What is the meaning of this?” Ann Ross asked. The headmistress sat down.
“As I informed you, your Aunt Beatrice has taken your tuition fees and used them for the funeral. I was reluctant you let you return, but I knew your aunt wouldn’t want to care for you. Out of the kindness of my heart, I have decided to keep you here in my school, except you can’t learn anything. You must do the chores of the maids and cooks to earn your living here. You will be given a maid’s uniform and will report to the kitchen at six o’clock sharp. Come along to your new room,” Miss Willows handed her a uniform, got up, and walked out of the room with Ann Ross following her.
Silently Ann was lead to a building she had never seen: The servant’s quarter.
The building was black, wooden with paint peeling off, and bars on the windows. There were messy hedges in need of trimming and a thin fence bordering it from a taller brick wall.
“Here’s a key for the door. I find it amusing that we hire them to keep the school clean and they do a splendid job but they don’t do the least to care for their home. They’re poor sewer rats, just like you,” Miss Willows gave a sinister sneer and clacked away to her office. Ann Ross stood there, staring at her new “home” for a long time.
Four years passed of pot scrubbing for seventeen year old Ann Ross: even during holidays. Ann Ross had now grown into a fine girl, with thick brunette hair, and a pleasant smile. She didn’t talk since the day that she was forced to work here.
One day Miss Willows, who was now beginning to sprout gray hairs, ordered Ann Ross to go to the market for produce. Ann Ross grabbed a large basket and set out to the market.
Outside was nippy and all Ann Ross had was a cloak and a bonnet. No mittens, no gloves, and no respect while she browsed for fresh vegetables. She got the dirty looks from the upper class citizens but she didn’t mind, she just smiled. She was used to this treatment from Miss Willows.
The sun had begun to shine as she walked down another cobblestone road and gazed at Big Ben, London’s most treasured sight.
On the exact same day, from Buckingham Palace, rode Prince Donovan. He wasn’t dressed up in his usual apparel he was disguised. Every once in a while he would borrow worn out clothes, scruff up his hair, and take a little joy ride through London on the back of his chef’s wagon.
On this particular day, as he passed Big Ben he saw her: a girl with the chestnut hair swaying in the breeze.
“James, halt the carriage,” Donovan hopped off the carriage and headed towards the girl.
He stood within arms length of her and immediately, as far as Donovan was concerned, she was by far, the most beautiful girl in the whole of England. He stood behind her and watched her hair wave with the wind.
She turned around and bumped into him. Donovan began to pick up some of her vegetables.
“I apologize, I shouldn’t have been standing behind you,” Donovan said. She nodded. When the basket was refilled he offered to walk her home
“So, what is your name?” Donovan asked as they began to walk. She just shrugged.
“It’s ok, my name is,” he started slowly, “Prince Donovan.” Ann Ross took a step back and became suspicious.
“I come here dressed in common clothes so I don’t attract attention to myself,” Donovan wondered why she didn’t speak.
“I want you to come to a gala this Friday. It’s a formal event. Arrive to the palace by six o’clock,” Donovan informed. Ann Ross smiled gently and eyes shined as the sun vanished slowly and walked the gates.
*
