story prompts

3

Songs: gold digger, Kanye West
Material Girl, Madonna

As a young girl who grew up in the smallest part if town I was used to not having much.  It was those who lived in the upper village that led happy lives. They had plenty of food,  water, warm beds and they always had a smile on their faces. They could afford to go to the village doctor when sick,  and they enjoyed all the fine aspects of life.  Never before now had I experienced such lovely things.  Fine food in abundance, that seemed never ending.  Wine as rich and silky smooth as possible, made only from the most perfect grapes and spices. The bed sheets made of the finest silks. The floors carpeted in the finest cotton. Not bad for a poor farmers only daughter, Huh?  All my life I watched as my father worked himself to death.  As the sole male in the family it was his duty to provide and protect my mother and I.  At the time of his death I was 8. Not yet old enough work in the town part of our village, and to old to receive much putty from the neighbors.  All I had really known in life was the faces of pain and grief my parents always seemed to have on. They seemed to AL WY have dirt somewhere on them at all times.  But despite this, I knew they loved each other very much.  I saw the looks my father would give mother as he finally sat down to eat and relax. How they would hold each other as they put me to sleep each night. A smile on both their faces.  They were both extremely slim and almost always exhausted. We almost never had enough food,  barely enough for a growing child.  Let alone when you add two adults into the equation.  When father passed, it become my mother's duty to provide for us.  My mother would work in the rich part of the village. Cooking and cleaning till dusk and be back to work at dawn.  In simplest terms, she was their slave.  She would come home tired and ashen from the days duty's. She would make us a dinner of white rice and broth made from whatever she could. It was after I when to sleep at night when the worst of her work began.  You see,  while we were very poor, my mother was beautiful.  Always had been.  Had she not loved my father she could have lived a much better and easier life in the upper village. In the end it was her looks that managed to keep us alive. The men in our village had always had eyes for mother.  They couldn't understand why she had chosen my father. They didn't understand that it was true love that had brought and kept them together. And, once it became apparent that she would do anything to provide for us they realized their chance. They could finally have what they always wanted while not having to put forth commitment, effort or and amount of empathy and emotion.  They used her night after night. Time after time.  They didn't care about how used and disgusting she found herself afterwards. She lived off of 3-4 hours of sleep each night. Before a new day would begin.  It was her looks,  that would be her true downfall. I can still remember how frail and fragile she looked in her last moments.  How the tears silently fell and she begged and made me promise I would never surcome to such a life. She made me promise to try and marry for love,  but to never live like she had to. You See, I was also very beautiful. From a young age anyone could tell I had inherited my parents good looks. I was only 12 when mother passed, but I could pass for 17 quite often. I attracted the looks and glances from men of all ages since I was a young girl.
I can proudly say that I have fulfilled my promise to my mother that I made years ago.  It is because of my stunning looks that I'm here now.  In the main bedroom of the big and beautiful house that is now half mine. I'm sitting at a beautiful best made if fine mahogany and a chair lined in velvet. Fresh ink and bright white writing papers.  Fresh grapes on a sliver plater to snack on as I please.  I managed to quite possibly have snagged one if the richest men in a 5 mile radius. I now have a staff of 30 people waiting on my hands and feet.  Waiting to do whatever I ask.  And it seems that my new husband does seem to care a great deal for me.  That it's the only reason I'm letting him live.  For now anyways.  I am fully prepared to do whatever I must to insure that I will continue to live comfortable for the rest of my life. I only hope that my parents are now happily together and at peace finally.