Octavia (Completed - 2018 Watty's Longlist)

Chapter One - Octavia

    Octavia Spencer, 19th June 1848,

    Many people seem to think that the perfect life would be to get married and have a beautiful family. You would be quite happy with that, no? Most people would say yes. There is not much to do in this life to do anything but. The world out there is too far away to do anything more. Only so many people get to leave my small town Jacksonville, Oregon. Though I plan on doing just that once I turn eighteen in a number of months.
    I want to see what is outside of Jacksonville. I want to see the world. I want to live life. More of a life then I could ever have here.

    I close my journal and place it back into my bag that I carry mostly everywhere with me. It has all of my thoughts and dreams in there.

    I look up as my dear friend Rosemary comes out of the fitting room. It is her birthday and her Father allowed her to go shopping for a new gown. Rosemary wears a beautiful pastel blue dress that comes in at the hips and softly fell to her feet. Her corset tightened around her waist, shaping her beautiful figure. Thick straps hung off her shoulders.
      My dear friend Rosemary was gifted with the perfect figure. She was blonde, blue eyed just like her Mother and wore her Father's stunning glow to her skin. I envied her in ways that made me jealous of her. She was beautiful and could get any young man to fall to her feet. However, no gentleman even paid me any attention when she was around. I was like her shadow, there but never noticed.
     I was as pale as could be which made me fit in with everyone else perfectly. Rosemary's parents are from Arizona which explains there flawless tanned skin. I've heard that it is very sunny there from her Father's stories. Rosemary was the new shiny toy, different from everyone else. She was incredibly unique whereas I was insanely ordinary. With my pale skin, petite figure, dark brown hair and my hazel eyes I've never really been at all appealing to the eye when I am beside Rosemary. By all means I love my best friend to the end of the world and back. But sometimes, the loneliness and non-existent attention makes me envy her.

    Rosemary looked at me expectantly. She put her arms out, referring to her dress. "What do you think?" She moved her hips side to side, the flow of the skirt following her every movement.
    "Well, I think you should spend that money your Father gave you and buy this dress, Rose. It's beautiful!" I exclaimed, smiling hugely at her brightly lit face.
    "You think so? It's not too . . . extravagant?" She asked, overthinking.
    There is something you need to know about Rosemary: she's an over-thinker. She over-thinks and over-analyses every possible thing there could ever be. But with her looks, what is there to overthink?

    "Rose, I am one hundred percent positive that you should get that dress. It looks absolutely stunning on you. And Richie will die when he sees you." I stand up and walk over to her, giving her a reassuring hug. I pull back at arms length and turn her back to the fitting room.
    "Now go get changed. Your Father is expecting you at tea, you hear me? Now go get changed. We're still yet to get home." I push her into the little room, where all our lives we have changed and bought dresses from this little boutique down the road from our local Church.
    "Alright, alright. I am getting changed. Hold your damn horses." Rosemary laughs, shutting the door.

     "Thank you so much, Helena. We will see you soon. Goodbye!" Rosemary waves, grabbing her bag that holds her new dress.
       "Goodbye, girls. Have a safe trip home." Our old dear friend, Helena farewells us with an almost disappointed look on her face. She is lonely. Her only company is her customers and Rose and I who come in every other day for tea.

    Helena has been working here even before we were born. Now that is a long time. She has got to be in at least her late sixties. I would love to know how she does it, but every time I ask she says that age does not define her abilities. If she had the chance I am sure she would have traveled the world  with her husband. Oh, poor Helena. . . Helena's husband died four years ago from a heart attack. It was terribly sad watching Helena work at this little boutique all by herself. Her husband would always be here with her. They were incredibly happy with their lives together. And many people wanted a love like theirs. So when Andrew, Helena's husband died, it was a great loss to everyone who knew them.