The Farmer's Daughter (Chapter 5 Out)

Miss Lucille has only faces half her world. People see a lanky and beautiful girl, while she sees a tired and ugly troll.

At first, you see the ribbons of Lucille's life. Then, you see it torn and weak. Can they be patched together, or will the ugly secret Lucille doesn't know she hides destroy them forever?

NOTE: I edited this. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE reread all over if you haven't read already! Thanks!

Dedicated to da_awesome_one :)

Chapter 1

Mr. Russell Taylor

I sat there at the doorway of the stone church. I grasped a gold wedding band from a country guy and a bright ring from a rich city man. How I got here? It's a long story.

I sat in my dads old truck, bringing home some eggs from the grocer. Our chickens weren't doing so well, and all we needed now was some good o'l dairy I brought from the city. I heard a deep voice from behind me, far away. "Hey, Pretty Lady! I could use some help over here!" I pretended to ignore him. My life was full of trouble already.

Once the food was on the stove, my stepfather at the table, I relaxed. I washed my hands for a bit, got a fresh drink of stream water from our creek, and sat combing my hair by the frying pan.

I leaned against the counter with all my weight. The homey sound of sizzling eggs and ham made my nose twitch with delight. I turned to the pan and flipped a few of them. A pounding at the door woke me from my daydream. "Can you get that, hon?" My father spoke in a raspy voice. "Of course, father"

My father was your average farmer. The way we live was lived generations ago. He had messy brown hair that stuck in every direction. His skin was sunburned or tan due to his hard work in the fields. Muddy brown eyes stuck from under everything, with chapped lips and "thick" beer gut. I wasn't surprised to see a beer bottle in his hand every now and then. He throws parties every week with wine on tap, while he thinks about my mama quite often.

My mother? She was beautiful. Big, poofy, wavy blonde hairs was layered on her head like healthy, green grass in a rainy meadow. She was relatively tall, but thin. Light green eyes shone under it all with pale skin. Her image was so clear to me.. before her beautiful pale turned to a sickly pale. Her lovely locks fell off in an instant. And those light green eyes closed for good. That was because of the Plague the broke out on our farm three years ago, when I was fifteen. I missed her like hell, but hell obviously didn't plan for anything to happen.

In anyway, my parents landed themselves with me. I am Lucille Mae Kinley. I have my mothers lovely strands of hair and my fathers muddy brown eyes. I have my mothers thin figure, and her lanky limbs, but my fathers square jaw and stubborn attitude.

Back to reality, I walked briskly to the front door. I unlatched the lock, undid the chain, and grasped my hand over the brass knob. I opened to see that kid that yelled at me almost a half-hour ago. "Hello?" He was absolutely handsome. I paused for a second, staring at his immense beauty.

Wild black hair on a bright, smiling face looked at me. Jade green eyes had their fair share of light while muscles rippled out on his chest. He was dressed in a sweaty white dress shirt and torn jeans to look like capris. Thick leather boots stood under his feet. Even he was taller then I. "I'm Russell Taylor, my family just moved into that Old Teager Place down the road." He paused. I still stared at him blankly. He kept talking, as if he knew my condition. "I'm fixing up the shingles in case of a leak. Can I borrow your ladder? Mine's left somewhere, but it's too rotten to use." He sat there for a moment. "No thanks" I shut the door in his face. All I needed now was a boy. More specifically, that boy. "Who was that, kitten?" My father's raspy deep voice came slowly but weakly. I mumbled. He then stalked up to the door and opened it again. Russell was still there, as if he knew it were to happen. "Eh?" My stepfather grunted. "Er, that young lady shut the door in my face as if I asked her to take off her top" He chuckled at his own joke. Milk white teeth gleamed from where he was. I even giggled for a moment, but my stepfather grunted again as he didn't find it funny. "What do you," He gestured to Russell. "Need, exactly?" I sighed and tended to my food on the stove. "Just a ladder, mister..." "Kinley, call me Bill. Take that old thing from the tool shed in the fields and take nothing else, you hear?" He seemed to yell. Russell was such a piece of work. He was already halfway down the the road before screaming goodbye.

What a piece of work, indeed.

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