Violet White

4 Jul
Violet White never really felt she lived up to the dramatic name her eccentric parents left her with fourteen years ago. “Violet is a stage name, an actresses name, not the kind of name for a quiet girl with thick glasses who read books for fun,” she often thought. Nevertheless, Violet she is and will remain. It is worth noting that her short brown hair falls to about her shoulders and is often tied neatly back into a ponytail, revealing her bright, girlish face.
Tragically, both her parents died when she was very young on an expedition to Alaska. They fell through ice into a cavern and were never heard from again, or so the story goes that her grandmother tells. Violet lived with her grandmother since the time of her parents death twelve years ago. The grandmother is still quite active at 75 and is also eccentric like Violet’s parents were.
Violet spends most of her time at home,  kept company by the books held within the gigantic library accumulated by her parents. In fact, the library was left to Violet in her parent’s will. As a result of the books and the connection she felt to her deceased parents when she read them, Violet became quite learned and acquired an education even before she was accepted at Wimblespin School For Girls. She became hooked on ideas and words, and they soon became her world.

Leaving her home to go to a boarding school was difficult for such a sensible, shy kind of girl. But her grandmother insisted it was a decision her parents would have wanted for her.

“Every proper girl goes away to boarding school. I went myself not a very long time ago. Oh the fun we had, playing jokes on the teacher’s and…well I’m sure that doesn’t interest you,” said the grandmother. “Now Mary has gotten the last of your things packed away in the trunk and Henry is ready with the motor car to take you. Her is some money to take and spend on the weekends for whatever frivolities today’s youth like to engage themselves in. Oh when I think back to the balls and the gowns…never mind that.”

The grandmother took out a laced parcel, of a cream and navy blue color. It appeared to be some sort of book, or diary. She placed it into Violet’s hands. “This my dear, is for you. It is the diary your parents kept for most of their married lives.”

 She ecstatically threw her walking cane into the bushes and began pacing briskly back and forth in the garden.

“Yes, yes, it is time you know, your parents did not die in Alaska. I thought that up because it was adventurous. I didn’t want to tell you, but you are fourteen now and should know for yourself what happened. It’s all in that diary there.” She tapped it a few times with her finger.  “Take good care of it and read it while you are safely tucked into that new school of yours. There there, be a good girl and give me a kiss on the cheek.”

Violet obeyed and then embraced her grandmother with tears in her eyes.

“Now, I won’t stand for tears my young one. Off you go. Be sure to write about the sorts of things they are teaching you there! Ah when I think back to my time at Wimblespin….but never mind that…By my dear, tootiloo!”





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