Random Stories I Wrote

Joyce

In the corner of the duke's ballroom, Joyce sat on the floor and was searching through her journals that surrounded her. She glanced up and watched as the staff scurried around, preparing for the ceremony.

When the women of Eraren turned eighteen, their family would host a party for their coming of age. They had become eligible to court and marry a lord.

Joyce enjoyed the hussle and noise that filled the room. It has been many years since it has been like that. To her it almost felt comforting. The environment was better than the cold and dark hallways that needed cleaning.

"Sissy! Joyce!," squealed Savannah.

Savannah bursted into the room in an unlady-like manner. She almost tripped on her crismon gown as she dashed over to Joyce. As soon as Savannah got closer to her, Joyce pulled her down and made her sit.

Joyce angrily whispered, "You know you're not supposed to be running. Especially not in heels. You should've known better Sav. Father is going to be mad."

"I know. I know but I need your help. I have no idea what I am going to wear to the ceremony. This is very important."

"And why is this so important? Do you have someone to impress?" Joyce teased. She giggled at the thought that her sister was in love at the ripe age of seventeen.

"It isn't funny. I am very serious about this matter," said Savannah, her tone slightly hardened.

"It is very funny. You risked getting reprimanded by Father because you wanted me to help you choose what fabric you wear to a dull party so you can impress someone. I am pretty sure you have better things to worry about, like the many suitors you are going to have after your ball. Father will probably choose an old lord with lots of money."

Savannah contemplated what Joyce had said for a second.

"I hadn't thought of that. Am I really going to end up marrying a wrinkly old person? How come you do not have to marry? You are the eldest and naturally the most suitable for marriage. You had your ceremony a few years ago."