Writing Prompt: He adapted to this dark new world.

Morning all. I have to say even though I generally try to forget about the writing prompts once I’ve set them up, I saw this one when I put it in the upcoming prompts and was excited to write something with it. I didn’t plan anything, but it looked like a fun sentence to start with. Some sentences are just like that. So let’s get to it, shall we?

Huh, so not where I thought I would take that. However i think I might be able to use this in one of the Sequel’s for Cursed. At the moment I am working on a new Channel Riders book so it will have to wait, but this is one I will circle back to, at least in idea.

Thursday, February 18th: He adapted to this dark new world.

He adapted to this dark new world.  At first it was a struggle.  When his father remarried he didn’t realize how much his world would change.  He knew his father still held anger towards him for his mother’s departure.  He still felt the humiliation of the sting and George knew he was a visible reminder of that abandonment.  Before his father’s remarriage he learned to be quiet and to stay out of his father’s direct line of sight whenever he could,

Once his father married Catherine, George thought his new love would help dull some of that anger, blunt it.  He also figured that with three children of hers being brought into the mix, George would be able to be one of the many, not singled out. 

Both hopes were dashed.  Catherine bore him no love and wished his father to favor her children.  That much was clear from the beginning.  Her children understood and belittled him, shunned him and made certain he was never part of their group.

At first he thought his father would put a stop to the torment but after a time, George came to realize that the anger his father felt at his mother’s departure still remained.  Catherine and her three adoring children eased the sting of the humiliation, but George retained the anger.  Once he realized this, he started avoiding the others when he could, staying out of their sight as well as his fathers.  He drew no attention to himself, living on the fringes of the family.  Staying out of sight and out of mind.  This no one objected to.  The taunting stopped, the teasing and the small stinging insults.  He was as invisible as it was for a person to be.

His invisibility caused him to spend a great deal of time in the family library. The books were his only companions.  He never read them in the library as that was where the other children took their lessons, so he spirited books out of the house and into the disused barn behind the house.  Once it held a carriage and fine horse, but it was inconvenient to have the animal so close to the house and once the city had reliable cabs for hire, they sold the horse and trap and the stable boy turned into a man of all work around the house, assisting the elderly man who served before him and then finally taking his place.  The stable had been more or less left alone, but it was built of sturdy stone and the cedar shingles held up providing a dry and quiet space for him to spend his time.

George was so used to invisibility that when he was lying on some old cushions reading as was his way, he was surprised to hear the clearing of a throat. He looked up and saw a woman, handsome and well dressed, a bit older than his step mother but not yet in her dotage standing there.

“Hello,” She said once she knew she had his attention. George blinked and for a moment looked around as though expecting there to be someone else for her to be talking to.  He couldn’t actually remember the last time anyone addressed him directly.  Even the servants pretended he was invisible.

“Yes you, George,” She said confirming she wished to speak to him. He set his book down and stood.  He studied her as he moved and she seemed content to let him do so.  She was wearing an expensive cape, velvet lined with silver and trimmed with ermine. Underneath he caught flashes of more costly materials and gem stones.

“Who are you, Your …ladyship,” he finished.  He knew all of the ranking peerage by sight and knew she wasn’t one of them but didn’t want to offend such an august person by leaving off a title.

“I am your fairy godmother,” she told him.

“I’m not exactly a princess,” George replied thinking of fairy stories. “Or a scullery maid.”

She sighed.  “Yes that is often the way of it isn’t it? This time however it isn’t an ill-used maid that is required.”  She began circling him.  “Yes, with a bit of work I think you’ll do quite nicely.”

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