Annelyn Smith was an ordinary girl , simple clothes, simple lifestyle. It was a sunny afternoon in Kensington when her father, Theodorus Smith pulled up outside their humble cottage . She lifted her heavy pale blue skirts out the mud that lined London's roads , and stepping into the cart, kissed her father on his cheek. Her mother, Annette Smith, followed her. Not a soul had come to wish them farewell, but that didn't surprise Annelyn in the slightest. Theodorus was the type of man that kept to himself , and when people tried to say hello, he never really responded. There was the time Miss Appleleigh attempted to make conversation when she first moved in next door, and the time The McLoughs brought over Apple pie. Mr Smith wasn't friendly, end of story. As the carriage began to crawl up the street that the Smith family had once called home, Mr Smith spoke. "At last! This pile of rubble will be but a memory." He said as they turned out of Little Avenue. He had never liked the city much.
The journey out of London was long, and tiresome. Mr Smith wasn't free of it as quickly as he hoped, and this seemed to impact his mood as the cart rolled onto the first stretch of dirt road. The elegant gravel that had sat upon the "wealthier" part of London was a memory as Annelyn caught her first glimpse of the countryside. "Beautiful." she whispered, her mouth forming a perfect "o" . Her mother nodded and slipped her arm around her . The cart trudged on, and as the night grew darker , Theodorus began to worry. "Annette, dear - did you hear that?" He said . Annette shook her head "Darling, keep going. We can't be too far away." . Suddenly, a small squeak ran out through the night. "Father,stop the cart. " Annelyn leapt off the cart and walked slowly towards the edge of the dirt road. A pile of rags lay at her feet, and gingerly, she lifted them up. A small puppy lay in the rags, shivering and whimpering. Annelyn picked it up immediately , wrapping it in her cloak. She clambered back onto the cart. "What on earth......." Her mother and father said in unison. They stayed silent as Annelyn dug into her pocket to fetch the remainders of her lunch and shoved some down the pup's throat . It chewed quickly and snuggled further into the Annelyn's powder blue coat. "It's staying." She stated matter-of-factly. Mr and Mrs Smith didn't question her and cart rolled along the road.
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The Felon
Historical FictionWhen 14 year old Annelyn Smith moves to a small countryside cottage, she instantly falls in love with her new home. On a walk through the neighbouring woods, she comes across a sack of clothes. Will Annelyn be able to save her loved ones before it...