Does it even matter? Nobody ever notices. I don't see why I even bother. Hi my name is Holly Wood, And this is my life. Guess my parents thought that they were being funny artistic at the time, but honestly I believe it is because they wanted to show that I was never going to match up to their high expectations. You see I was an unwanted baby. Not in the sense that my mum discovered that she was pregnant and that it was her conquest to abort the mere idea of me. Oh no; I had a room, a nursery full of toys, a nanny, and even a wardrobe full of clothes just for me. Well, when I say me I mean for the baby my parents wanted: Howard Percival Winston Wood.
They wanted a boy. They got me. Guess who was not accepted...?
When I was seven years old Mum had a second baby - Howard. For the first seven years of my little life I had been kept away from view, I had no friends; they were not allowed over anyway, my parents were ashamed of me, so I wasn't even allowed to go around friends houses. All the nannies that had been fired seven years ago were suddenly reinstated. The nursery unlocked, and dust blown off of the toys all differing shades of blue. But of course the room that was originally allocated for me was too small for their little Prince. So they decide to knock the wall down into my room and turn it into a walk in closest. What happened to me you may ask. Well, I was given the attic. That might sound nice to begin with, sloping ceilings, spacious air, beautiful views. That might be the norm with town houses but my attic had a few mismatching floorboards, no plaster on the walls and no windows. No natural source of light. But as long as Prince Howard was safe and well that was all that mattered.
When I started secondary school I wanted to be noticed and maybe have friends, you know the normal teen thing. So I cut my hair short and had a print stripe on the left hand side just above the nape of my neck to the tip of my brow. I thought I looked cool. For once I was the talk of the school. Boys wanted to be with me, girls wanted to hang around with me and teachers didn't want to mess with me. Apparently everyone knew that the Woods in Shellford were well off. Everyone that was, except me. After a while the novelty of a blue stripe wore off, and no one cared about me again. So I became a recluse.
The next five years of my life would be spent hidden behind a wall of black fringe. My grades suffered; I fell from As and Bs to Es and Us. It didn't matter though because I was always in the cast shadow of Howard anyway, all singing, all dancing, all perfect Howard.
"Failure" "will never succeed" "a waste of contemplation" these were all phrases I heard over the years. But none of these hurt as much as the day that my parents sang happy birthday to my Nan, and promptly forgot that I shared her birthday. I thought an 16th birthday was supposed to be considered special. Legally I could ride a 50cc motorbike with L plates. I could smoke, have sex, move out. The latter seems like a blessing doesn't it?! It would be if I had any family or friends I could go and stay with, or some money. But no one cared about an emotional wreck of a girl, who had been told that they were "spending her pocket money in a more efficient manner than just giving it to her" meaning shrouding Howard with gifts.
By this stage I finally had some plaster up on my walls. I stole paint and brushes from school, and exerted my emotions into the artwork that encompassed the canvas of my room. I spent all of my time painting on these walls. Hues of all varieties. My favourite; black.
I was 25 before I saw any of my family properly again. When Prince Howard stared in his first major grossing movie. One of the staff bounded up the stairs and let me know that "the Wood family requested my presence downstairs" so I obliged - mostly because I may have the chance to get some fresh fruit. I stayed and listened to all of the congratulatory remarks. Feeling my self esteem shrinking each time someone did so, I didn't think it was possible for it to get any smaller, I was wrong. At this party there was some hot shot director who wanted to document Howard's life and encapsulate it on film. I think he must have thought that I was one of the staff and asked for me to write what I thought about Howard Wood on a piece of paper. I told him as a matter of fact that I would need more than one piece. He seemed to find it hysterical and handed me a pad of paper.
So here you go Mister Director: The life of Howard Wood, amazing movie star extrordanaire as told by his unknown, hidden, forgotten sister.
