Well, when I was a child, my mother made our clothes. At a young age I could turn a bed sheet into a dress. My mother and I lived in a sleepy countryside village, very close knit. Across from our line of houses, there was a lake that I used to sit at and sew. Dangling my feet over the edge, I'd collect wisdom from a fisher named Micheal. I learnt all about how to survive.
"Now, when it comes to berries" he said, casting his line into the water.
"There's a simple rhyme: red and yella' kills a fella', purple n' blue, good for you!"
I giggled at the funny sounding scentence, his thick Scouse accent made any word he uttered funny, well at least to me. I was five, and his stubble even made me laugh sometimes.
I pressed my tounge into my cheek, locking my stitch and smiling at my finished work. I held it up, scanning the doll dress for any flaws. It was my proudest achievement at that time, dyed pink material turned into a beautiful ball gown dress, lace was protruding from the sleeve ends.
"Look!" I squealed, pinching the sleeves and shoving the dress in Mikes face.
"Ee, bless yer' mam, teaching yer' such a helpful skill at such a young age!" He said, turning his head to the dress.
Everything was perfect at that time. No problems, no illness, no boyfriends or babies.
But then everything changed.
YOU ARE READING
Survive
AdventureA resourceful young mother and her 4 year old child are now completely homeless in the middle of rainy England. With no remaining family and armed with only a needle and thread, Delila must fight to keep her and her daughter alive.
