Grrrrrrr

I have decided that money is stupid. I want to go to a friend's wedding and unless some miracle occurs, I can't go. Problem is I have known this friend since I was 3. And I met his finace a few months ago and we've grown really close too so it's like 2 awesome friends marrying each other and I might not be able to go. Yeah, ok, so there's a reception in Cincy a few days later, but that's not the same thing ESPECIALLY when the bride specifically asked me to come to the wedding and the other reception that night. But you know, DC is not the cheapest place to travel to. And I happen to be excessively poor.
Anyway, I have decided that to make me feel better, I'm going to post a bit of my writing on here and let whoever the heck still reads my blog hash at it and tell me what gives. I may do this for a while, but it's my blog, so I can. And I have an idea for a fun little challenge coming up...assuming people still read this....
We'll start off gently with a prologue. Now, the key here is to catch the reader's attention and make them want to keep reading. If I fail at that, then it doesn't work for the story and must be revised. So your job, reader, is to let me know.
Here we go:
Staffordshire, June 1803
Andrew Birkham had never really put much stock into stars.
Oh, he enjoyed gazing at them and finding constellations well enough, but as to the wishing upon them and believing they held some sort of enchantment, he was all skepticism.
But the summer of his sixteenth year, something changed his opinion only slightly, just enough to make the stars seem a little magical after all.
That something was Rebecca Dumate.
She was the cheeky scamp who lived at Marshall Hall, a mere three miles from his family’s newly purchased Benbridge estate. He met her at the dinner party hosted by her parents, but did not really notice her until they, along with their respective brothers, had begged out of the boring conversations to follow the meal and escaped to explore the night sky.
Little Rebecca had situated herself at the very end of the row of blankets and immediately commenced in her own explorations, ignoring what anyone else was doing and, apparently, perfectly content in her own thoughts.
From the little he knew about the eleven year old, he suspected she was most likely imagining all sorts of girlish nonsense. All else he knew was that she was wickedly fast and that she could be quite the hellion, if her brothers could be believed.
But something about the way her bright eyes scanned the sky so eagerly, the small smile that played on her face, and the sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose enchanted him a little. He moved to take the blanket next to her, to which she had no reaction.
“And what thoughts occupy your mind so completely, Miss Rebecca?” he asked quietly, turning his head to look at her.
She jumped slightly and looked up at him with wide eyes. Then she bit her lip and lowered them in embarrassment. “I—I was trying to find a star to wish upon.”
He knew it. And yet, for the first time, it did not seem quite so ridiculous.
“Don’t be such a girl, Rebecca!” her brother Edward chortled from the other side of him.
Andrew felt the odd desire to punch his new friend when he caught the flash of hurt that crossed the girl’s face. Could her own brother not see what she was feeling?
Then her other brother proposed a constellation challenge and all was apparently forgotten as she returned her attention to the task at hand with enthusiasm.
But Andrew was not so easily distracted. When the time came to return to the house, something compelled him to pull the girl aside.
“Pick out your star, Rebecca,” he urged gently.
She beamed up at him, warming his heart slightly, and turned to find one. Quickly she pointed at a bright one in the southern sky. He bent down to her level and peered at it, nodding thoughtfully.
“Very good. Now, you must wish upon it whenever you can, but you must never tell the wish, or else it cannot come true.” Wasn’t that the proper wishing etiquette? He sincerely hoped so, he did not want to make a fool of himself in front of this charming child.
But Rebecca nodded obediently and relief washed over him. He grinned down at her, then ran to join the boys in the house. He’d remember that star and should he ever notice it again, perhaps he would think about the little girl and wonder what her wishes were and if they were coming true.
If Andrew Birkham had, however, noticed the expression on young Rebecca Dumate’s face as he departed, he might not have been so keen as to wonder about the content of her wishes.
Indeed, he would not have had to wonder at all.