Post by Jessica Sparrow on Jan 19, 2007 23:20:00 GMT -5
this is all i have finnished so far. i want to work in it somemore, but i just havent had the time. what do u think of it?
~Turning Point~
Danielle Dominquez walked along her country drive, along the cities of France, to a mailbox at the very end. Opening the small door she pulls out a few bills, a postcard from her father, wishing her a Happy Birthday, and a letter. She smiles as she sees the familiar writing of her address, and begins to open it up as she walked back to her house.
“April 6th, 1941” it begins “My Dear Danielle, Happy Birthday! I have missed you dearly. Every night before I sleep, I think of you. Your mere memory comforts me. I still show the boys your picture. They adore you, but not near as much as I. I received you last letter, and I have read it time and time again. I never get sick of it. I wish I could return home, but I can’t. The war isn’t near its ending, and I’m just a simpleton to the generals in my camp. It pains me to believe that I must do without you, but it has been 2 years, and I’m still not permitted to return home. You of all people should understand that I do wish to, but our country needs me, you need me. If we don’t fight, the Nazis’ will take over and France will be no more. Please don’t offend my cause Danielle. You know good and well that the boys need me. God has sent me to do this, and I will gladly oblige. But I must go now; Fr. Gregory is in need of my assistance in this week’s sermon. I love you and will miss you dearly till the day comes that I return home.
Love, Your Raoul”
The woman held the letter close, holding back the tears. Her husband had been away at war for almost two years now, and she fought the fact of him going every day. The fighting didn’t carry to where she had lived, thank the lord. France had gone through enough in this god-forsaken war. Why couldn’t things be like they used to be again? This, Hitler person, why can’t they simply kill him, and go on with life? But Danielle knew that it just wasn’t that simple. The war would last until every man has spilt his share of blood. As she reached for the doorway, she sighed, and went inside her small home. She had lived with her sister, Marie, and her father Kenneth. Ever since Raoul and her brother Joseph left to fight, the house had been so quiet, like everything inside it was dead. She sat down at a small table in the middle of the kitchen, staring at the piece of paper she had just received.
“What can I do?” she thought to herself. The war had not reached to her small town of Florien, and actually wasn’t even a spitting distance from her home. She didn’t want to just sit there and do nothing while everyone else was dieing, so she could posses the laziness she was now taking advantage of. She wanted to help, she wanted to be of some use, and she hated not knowing how.
Three more years go by, and pass, and Danielle receives letter after letter about the various fighting and word of Italians’ fighting along their side.
~Turning Point~
Danielle Dominquez walked along her country drive, along the cities of France, to a mailbox at the very end. Opening the small door she pulls out a few bills, a postcard from her father, wishing her a Happy Birthday, and a letter. She smiles as she sees the familiar writing of her address, and begins to open it up as she walked back to her house.
“April 6th, 1941” it begins “My Dear Danielle, Happy Birthday! I have missed you dearly. Every night before I sleep, I think of you. Your mere memory comforts me. I still show the boys your picture. They adore you, but not near as much as I. I received you last letter, and I have read it time and time again. I never get sick of it. I wish I could return home, but I can’t. The war isn’t near its ending, and I’m just a simpleton to the generals in my camp. It pains me to believe that I must do without you, but it has been 2 years, and I’m still not permitted to return home. You of all people should understand that I do wish to, but our country needs me, you need me. If we don’t fight, the Nazis’ will take over and France will be no more. Please don’t offend my cause Danielle. You know good and well that the boys need me. God has sent me to do this, and I will gladly oblige. But I must go now; Fr. Gregory is in need of my assistance in this week’s sermon. I love you and will miss you dearly till the day comes that I return home.
Love, Your Raoul”
The woman held the letter close, holding back the tears. Her husband had been away at war for almost two years now, and she fought the fact of him going every day. The fighting didn’t carry to where she had lived, thank the lord. France had gone through enough in this god-forsaken war. Why couldn’t things be like they used to be again? This, Hitler person, why can’t they simply kill him, and go on with life? But Danielle knew that it just wasn’t that simple. The war would last until every man has spilt his share of blood. As she reached for the doorway, she sighed, and went inside her small home. She had lived with her sister, Marie, and her father Kenneth. Ever since Raoul and her brother Joseph left to fight, the house had been so quiet, like everything inside it was dead. She sat down at a small table in the middle of the kitchen, staring at the piece of paper she had just received.
“What can I do?” she thought to herself. The war had not reached to her small town of Florien, and actually wasn’t even a spitting distance from her home. She didn’t want to just sit there and do nothing while everyone else was dieing, so she could posses the laziness she was now taking advantage of. She wanted to help, she wanted to be of some use, and she hated not knowing how.
Three more years go by, and pass, and Danielle receives letter after letter about the various fighting and word of Italians’ fighting along their side.