Young Writers Society

This is the prologue to a novel I'm currently writing which is about a 19 year old girl, Amelia Pond, who is arranged marriage. But a month before her reception she falls in love with someone else.

I sat accordingly to my mother's words that she commended me when I was three. My back straight up with the utmost confidence, face fierce as if your heart carries no emotions, feet crossed, and hands intertwined on your lap. In retrospect, those are the only words I lived by at the age of three and still live by today. "Isn't she darling?" A cold hand rested on my bare arm, I was the current topic of discussion.

"Yes, she's a very pretty girl." I heard that phrase the most, I was on the verge of believing the only reason people said that was due to the fact that they knew my family's name. Pond, in this city was monarchy. Not literally, my father Luther Pond was a well-known lawyer who owned a local firm that was widely popular, it brought our family great fortune for many generations.

I turned my attention to Mrs. Harling, with a soft grin I thanked her for the compliment. She held herself with confidence and dignity at the age of 55, she had few wrinkles, ginger hair that showed strands of white spurting out. Her hand extended to the white china cup as she took a sip of herbal tea she had made us for our arrival. "Would you fancy a cup of tea?" Her voice was raspy, never really staying on a balanced interval.

"I'd love a cup," my mother's cold hand left my arm and went to the china cup that was handed to her.

"Amelia, would you like a cup?" My mother stared at me, and I can see her chocolate eyes sharpen signaling me to accept the tea. My mother always wanted me to be polite, especially in matters like this.

"Yes," I smoothly replied and I began to sip the bland tea. "Dandy," I lied as I set the china on the plate.

"How sweet are you. I give this every time one of the boys get sick. Clears the illness right away," Mrs. Harling took in the glory of being a successful mother as she went on talking about her sons. "David, oh my little Davie...what a wonderful boy. He wasn't the brightest, but sure was a handful. He was the one with the mischievous plan. Davie is a father of two right now, and works for my husband's restaurant. Oh, and Clark...now he was wise. Took his studies very seriously, especially arithmetic. He now works for a...um...this bank, he has an internship there. But Anthony was the leader, he was an athlete and he had brains. Mm, I love them so."

"You must be so proud," My mother responded as she took another sip of the tea.

"Yes, and now my Anthony is going to wed to a beautiful girl. Amelia you're perfect for him, your father was right. Even at a young age Luther knew that these two were right for one another. Oh, I'm so proud." Uncontrollably, I coughed.

"They are a significant pair," my mother chimed in.

"...Can't wait." I took a couple of sips to clear the ball in my throat that prevented me from speaking properly.

"The date?" Mrs. Harling became suddenly anxious as she awaited my response.

"Oh...um...August?" I was the bride, and I wasn't even sure. It wasn't up to me to decide the date, nor was it my decision to wed to Anthony. I was only 19, my mind was never focused on a wedding, a husband, or being a wife.

"How nice. The end of the summer and the break of autumn," she swayed her hands in a graceful motion in the air.

"Very nice time of year to commit to one another's love," my mother's cold hand intertwined with my fingers, I forced a smile...forcing happiness when it came to the matter of love.