Lucinda Kami was tall for her age, a young girl going to Westward Junior High for Ladies in the year of 1816. She lived in a big house, painted in the prettiest shade of blues and greens. She had her own room in which she took great pride. (Few girls at her school had their own room.) An A student, her parents were proud of her beyond most parental pride for their children. This is hard to imagine though isn't it? Yes, she was very happy with her life.
And even more reason to be happy she had. For her birthday was coming in two days and the household was a buzz with activity. Her father, a tall, pale man with black hair and pale skin, was constantly asking what she wanted for her birthday. While her mother, a thin young woman whose pale blond hair and grey eyes had been inherited by her mother, was telling her every other hour how happy she was that "her Dear Lucy Lu" was home.
And the night before her birthday of December 1st, she lay in her bed, thinking of the wonderful, normal birthday that she thought to lie ahead of her. But, this dear reader was a lie, a little lie planted in her head, planted in a bed of dream soil. And of this perfect day she would dream, and not of the biggest, worst, and most life changing birthday present of her 200 year old half-life.
Lucy woke drowsily, only to be startled by her own mind. She rubbed the sleep out if her eyes as she hopped out of bed, dressed quickly, and ran down the stairs. After a big breakfast, Lucy and her parents dressed warmly and set out in the cold, afternoon air. The short day was spent feeding birds that hadn't flown north, walking and laughing, stopping for lunch, and shopping through the many windows of the small town where lived.
Later, back at their home, Lucinda stood, hands covering her scrunched up eyes. Her parents held a box. Inside it was a silver locket with a sapphire heart encrusted in the middle. It had cost a lot of money, but their family could afford it.
They had been saving it for her until she was old enough not to loose it or break it, and they were finally giving it to her. She had wanted it when she was six, but her parents had said no, yet secretly buying when their daughter had run to another window filled with toys.
They looked at each other as they walked closer and closer. "Ok Lucy!" They smiled brightly as they held out the box. "You can…."
Unfinished sentences are terrible things, you never know what the speaker was going to say, unless they are there to say the rest. And gunfire filled there would never be anyone to tell her to open her eyes. At least not to fully open them for 200 years.