To Love

Chapter One

I was born in 1918 in a small town called Blackwell located at the outskirts of London. Blackwell was a poor little farming village, everyone born there was expected to take over their family farms, only a few were able to leave and make names for themselves.

My family ran one of the biggest farms; I guess you could say that we were the third richest family of Blackwell. We grew a lot of different crops, but the only ones I could remember was the fruits we grew out back in our tiny vineyard. My mother made sure I knew how to care for the fruits while my father taught my brother’s how to care for everything else. I was the youngest; there for it wasn’t that important if I knew what I was doing for the farm would never be mine.

Being the youngest out of four can be hard at times. The attention of our parents was hard to get for all of us were fighting each other for it. My father gave all of his to the oldest; he was the prized son that he always wanted, the son that would take over the farm. Sometimes he would work with my other brothers, but he never looked my way.

I don’t blame my father for anything that happened to me because my mother stepped up when he refused to. There was never a moment when I wasn’t by her side. I’m sure that she thought of me as a daughter instead of a son.

She taught me so much, things that I could use more in life than anything my father would have been able to teach me. I learned how to cook, clean, care for the fruits, flowers, and animals. There was one thing she taught me that I loved more than anything else and that was how to sew. She showed me how to draw up designs, cut fabric, and make wonderful pieces of clothing to sell at the weekly market.

My father hated this. He didn’t like the thought of one of his children making dress for a living, so he completely shut me out. To him, I did not exist. This made things a bit harder for me, but mother found a way to make something like that work.

Everything was fine until I turned twelve, when my mother passed away. It was in the middle of winter and a nasty snow storm had just hit. She became very ill from the cold. What made this so bad was the fact that we all were trying so hard to help her, but there was nothing we could do. We couldn’t leave the house to get medicine or a doctor for the storm was too bad. She ended up passing away the day be for Christmas.

            Father fell apart after her death, he had lost the woman he loved, and didn’t know what to do with his self. My brother’s worked hard to keep the farm going while he mourned, and I took up the empty spot that mother had left.

            They say that you can’t die from a broken a heart, but my father did. Two months after mother’s passing father passed away in his sleep. We found him lying on her side of the bed, her picture being held tightly against his body.

            Our town priest soon came to see us after we had buried father. He said that my brothers and I were too young to be living on our own, that we had to be moved to an orphanage to be adopted. The oldest refused to go, he said that in a years’ time he would be an adult. He was allowed to stay, to tend to the farm and keep up our family name.

            The rest of us were taken to London, to the orphanage “God’s Little Angles”. It was big and full of children of all ages, I was amazed to see so many. My hopes at finding a new family also left me. With so many other children to choose from… Who would want me?

            Times in the orphanage were hard. The head mother was very strict and made sure that all of us had chores to do. If we did not complete the chores by supper time then we had to go to bed without food. If we were defiant in any way she would locks us down in the basement. I had been in the basement once for getting in a fight; I made sure to never be sent down there again.

            Throughout the years of being there I lost two of my brothers. One of them had been adopted with a young girl, being taken by a family that couldn’t have children of their own. My other brother had been beaten to death by one of the old children, the head mother said it was an accident and that there was no need to get the authorities involved.

            Me and my last brother who was the second oldest were the last two besides the oldest who had stayed behind. We managed to keep our heads low and out of trouble until we were old enough to leave. I think that that was one of the best feelings I had ever had; the feeling of all the weight being lifted from my shoulders as I walked away from that orphanage to never return.

            At that time I was eighteen. I had no family to go to, no money, no job, and no bed to sleep in at night. Because of how young I was it wasn’t too hard to find a small job to make some money. An older woman that needed help with her market stall hired me, she need a young man to watch the stall for thieves and to do all the heavy lifting. She sold fruits, the same kind that my mother had grown. The old woman soon took the place of my mother, she was very kind. As part of my payment she would feed me and give me a place to sleep.

            Two years later she passed away, I had stayed by her side though her death. She had done so much for me and it hurt to let her go. But before she had passed she had managed to find me a new job and home. An old friend of hers took me in as his apprentice and I couldn’t have been happier for he was a tailor.

            I remained his apprentice for a year, learning everything he would teach me. Once he decided that I had learned all I could he retired, leaving his shop to me.

            I was twenty one at that time, and that’s where the true story begins.

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Before anyone says anything... Its in Italics because he is talking to you, the reader, and telling you his story. The rest will not be in Italics. Also, keep in mind that this is a rough draft, so I know there a mistakes, please don't point them out.