Story of my life

Chapter Two

 

I have always loved reading, it started when I was younger. If you live in my town you don't live like the rest of the world, you don't own a computer, you don't use a cellphone and you don't open up to the utside world. Hudsontown may be small but the outside world doesn't exist here. If you want to use a computer you go to the town Inn and use the only computer in town. And living in one of the rainiest countries in the world you have to figure out something you can do inside. I found reading, mostly poetry, I find it soothing in a way, like I'm not the only person in the world to feel the way I do. My room is like a library, i have book shelfs covering all for of my walls the only space without a bookshelf is the door and a space for my window, and the only reason that I haven't filled my window with books is because I love siiting down and looking out. You can see the town from my window, and further back you can see the Rowain castle on top of the Viking hill. The rowain castle is a huge and scary house, once owned by Mark Rowain, a rich man that lived 200 years ago, there are plenty of stories about the castle and Rowain. Stories of how he lived there to hide from something, and the stories tell of a beatiful young girl who fell in love with him and after marrying him she was never seen again. There are lots of stories but no one knows if they're true, the only thing that is certain is that for 200 years no one lived there, but that changed not too long ago. One Day rumours started going around town that someone had moved into the castle, the rumours proved to be true a big family had moved in there a night in June. They remained a mystery for quite some time as they were never really in town. One day while me and my dad was sitting down at the dinner table eating he told me that a young lady had come in to the store one day, and since he didn't recognize her he assumed that she was one of the family members that had moved in to the castle. "She was quite young, your age I'd guess, very beautiful" That's all he said. He was a man of few words my dad, and beautiful was a word he barely used. He had used it to describe my mother, and he called me beautiful quite often, but he's my dad so he has to. What is beautiful really? The Hart sisters were described as beautiful. And Maybe they were, red hair, big breast and pretty smiles. But I don't know if I think they're beautiful. I don't think I am, I look a lot like my mother. Apart from the fact that she was really beautiful. I have her face and her body. But I have my dad's dark brown hair and grey eyes. I don't think I look any special. Not until he made me believe it, it's kind of sad in a way. That what you don't realize that you're beautiful until someone forces you to see it.