Therese A Kraemer - Dorcy Brookshire Trail of Tears

Dorcy Brookshire

Trail Of Tears

THRSE A. KRAEMER

Copyright Therese A. Kraemer 2017

Published by Spangaloo

Spangaloo Edition

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This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, events, incidents, and places are the product of the authors imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, people, or events is purely coincidental

Cover Design: James Blanchette

Ebook Formatting : Alan Thriete

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Acknowledgement

My thanks to my sister Annette Clark who welcomed me into her home for a short time and contributed a few key details which improved this story.

PART ONE

Chapter One

Present

G loucester, Massachusetts .

Hello, my name is Silver and I want to tell you a story about a teenage girl named, Dorcy Brookshire. Now my tale begins the day I met her. Well, I guess that statement is not exactly correct; it really started over two hundred years ago when I was placed in an ornate wooden frame. Now, you all are probably wondering what I am; I am a mirror, you see. I mean you could see if you stood before me.

Getting back on track, I was purchased by a beautiful lady, (and I regret to say this but, she was my granddaughter and I will not mention that again unless necessary.) Too late, I discovered that she was the wicked queen who had cast a spell on me. Voil! I was incarcerated behind a looking glass but I was able to speak. This witch was very vain and every day shed ask me if she was the most beautiful in all the land. Now, Im not stupid, so of course I told her that she was but as time went by, it was getting more difficult. So, too make a long, long painful story short, she disappeared one day after I confessed that she was no longer the fairest in the land and I was left all alone with mixed feelings because now I was bored.

As time elapsed the residence was sold and I was covered and placed in the attic and moved from time to time. Now, heres where my existence gets more exciting. One day, the cloth was removed and I was looking into the pretty face of a young girl. At first her green eyes grew large as she stared at me and studied herself disapprovingly as she turned to the left and then the right. With a disgruntle sigh, she looked cross-eyed and made funny expressions. At first I was amused but when she stuck out her tongue, I said, How rude of you miss?

Her next expression was the most comical of them all. I thought that her eyes might pop out of her head. But, it was her scream that nearly shattered my glass. I was sorry to see her run away; I so wanted company. She came back the next day and stared at me for a few moments and then looked behind me as if someone was playing a joke. Hmm, was her comment as she put a finger under her dainty chin and seriously frowned. And then, she poked me right in an eye.

Ouch! I cried and she jumped back, landing on her butt.

Sorry that I scared you; please dont run away, I apologized.

Her eyes grew wider and she spoke in a weak and tremulous whisper, You...you talk?

Well, yes I do, I admitted trying not to laugh.

She looked up, disoriented and stated perplexed, How can you, youre just a mirror?

Now that hurt and I replied very miffed, Just a mirror? I beg your pardon but I am an enchanted mirror, if you please.

She continued to sit on the floor giving me the most befuddled stare. Look, I offered her my simplest explanation. I was once the property of a very vain and wicked witch and she cast a spell on me, imprisoning me in here. You are not vain, are you? I asked. She shook her head negatively with vigor. Good, but you are very pretty, my dear.

She muttered hastily, I find this very hard to believe. I must have hit my head when I fell and Im hallucinating.

No, Im afraid the truth is staring you in the eyes. Or should I say, youre staring at the truth. What shall I call you? I quickly changed the subject.

She crawled over and sat in front of me, touching her head. She appeared to be miffed that she did not find a bump and shrugged, answering my question, Dorcy Brookshire and I am fifteen. What do I call you?

My name is Silver, I answered. I am around two hundred and sixty years young, I bragged.

She giggled, A very appropriate name Mr. Silver. You do not look a day over sixty.

Please, just Silver. Thank you.

Okay, Just Silver, she murmured with a warm smile.

This time I laughed. I like you Dorcy.

Me too; I mean I like you also. Im going to ask my father to hang you in my bedroom, but no peeking when I undress, promise?

I promise.

Pinky swear? she asked and giggled, and put her little finger against my face.

Without hands, you have me at a disadvantage but youve got my word child.

The next time the cloth was removed I immediately knew I was in Dorcys boudoir; there was no denying the room belonged to a female. The walls were pink as were the curtains and ruffled bedspread. One wall was filled with dolls on shelves, another covered with strange pictures of humans, I think. They were all boys that were dressed oddly and had different colored hair, some hair was long others spiked. And I thought that the witch who imprisoned me dressed abnormal.

Well. What do you think? asked Dorcy suddenly appearing before me smiling.

Again I will say that Im not a foolish mirror but I didnt want to hurt her feelings and a little white lie would not crack me, I hope, so I fibbed, Very enchanting, child.

She beamed. Thanks. Well, I have to study for school tomorrow, I have a math test.

Oh, can I assist? Adding and subtracting is easy.

Maybe, but its an algebra quiz, see. She held up the book and I studied it and then frowned.

Can you? she asked.

I hesitated, blinking. I do not think so, never had a use for all those numbers. Im a mirror not a crystal ball that can see the answers. Sorry.

She giggled. Thats okay, she said with a shrug and plopped down onto the bed, putting something into her ears. I watched for a while and then asked, Hows the homework coming?

No answer so I shouted again and once more she ignored me. I sighed frustrated and decided that maybe she was too engrossed in her studies to be disturbed, so I patiently waited. I did hang around for over two hundred years, so what are a few more minutes? Finally, she removed whatever it was she stuffed into her ears and grumbled, I hate algebra! Cant see what good it will do me?