Claimers

Chapter 1

  *Author's Note* Hey ya'll *Waves eagerly* Hi dad! Okay so I know that I do not have a lot of followers yet and that I am new to Wattpad, but thank you to everyone who takes the time to read this story. My plan is to update every three days. However that is subject to change. We will see how things go as time passes. Anyway, my inspiration for this story is that every time I sit down and read a good book, I always wish I can jump into and live in that world. So I thought, "why not write that down then Kristen?" And that's what I've done.  Enjoy the first chapter! :)

Word Count: 2130

I was so tired of the constant routine. Every single morning was the exact same thing in our small little world. I wanted more than anything to be done with it. Even though I'm one of the very few that holds that opinion. This morning was yet another day of the same boring routine, but tomorrow, tomorrow meant the world.

I sit up in my tiny bed in my tiny room in our tiny home in our tiny village. My younger brother lays asleep in the tiny room next door, snoring as if he is thunder roaring from the clouds. My mother is in the kitchen cooking her heart out, or trying to I suppose. It is hard to make a decent meal from the little food that we have. Now as much effort as my mother may put into coming up with new inventive ways to make bread, berries, milk, eggs, and sugar into meals, said meals are most certainly not fit for a king.

I can smell the oven toasted bread from my room as it sends its warming aroma down the hallway. My head immediately imagines my mother in her little blue apron, spreading a ruby red berry jam and sugar over the warm toast. I sigh as this is the breakfast that fills my stomach every morning. At least we are not living in the slums I bitterly remind myself.

I look around my dusty little room. Our home is made strictly of wood and nails so my walls have a very rustic look to them. I dust the walls and cobwebs once a week though, so at least it looks nice in that respect. My oak door is in the middle of the wall sitting directly across from my bed. My bed includes one lavender blanket and a white pillow. My mother constantly nags me about trying to salvage enough money to buy another blanket, saying I'll catch hypothermia in the night. Personally, I am never cold and find even the thin blanket to be too much heat at times.

One oak dresser sits against a wall with a mirror above it with a black lamp standing tall next to it. That dresser is the only thing that is left of my father. He had built it for me before I was even born, putting all of his savings into the wood used to make it. Just after I was born, my father was claimed, and I never truly met him. I have imagined him in many ways, but in my many ideas about what he would be like, he is always brave. It is the only thing to never change.

Some of my raggedy and aging clothes are strewn across the floor and my purple hair brush sits atop my dresser. My favorite book, A Kingdom in Distress sits atop the dresser as well, the princess on the cover always watching me. I stand and walk to the dresser, switching out my sweatpants for a pair of tight black pants. I throw a tight navy tunic on over my black sports bra and tie the crisscrossing strings across the V-neck. When I look in the mirror my dark green eyes stare back at me, like juniper trees swaying in the wind. My long and brown wavy hair is in a large knot.

    I pick up the hairbrush from my dresser and quickly brush through the rat's nest of knots before braiding my hair and slipping on some boots. I slip out of my room and walk down the hallway to the kitchen. I pass my mother's room, the door locked tightly, and then my brother's. I can hear his swine-like snoring from outside the room. He probably won't wake up for another hour. He, like my step father, is a bit lazy... and crude. But, I love him, my stepfather however is a different story. There is one bathroom on the left side of the hallway for showers, but a shower and toilet are the only amenities that our little cottage offers.