Family secret (part I)+ a short update

First of all, and before anything, I want to apologize for not being frequently active on this platform, and subsequently, barely writing any articles for the last couple of months. The reason for this "lazy" publishing schedule is that my PC had abruptly stopped working, and as it turned out later, the motherboard is damaged and in need to be replaced. The problem, however, is that replacing said motherboard is not really an easy fix and it is not practical either. It goes without saying that I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place at the moment with only one option left: I have to buy a new PC, which, considering my current financial situation, is out of question.

My second device, though, is not functioning correctly either; it has a faulty Wi-Fi which keeps alternating between going on and off as it wishes. As you can tell, and under this circumstances combined, I can not write my usual historical articles which requires plenty of research in order to provide the readers with accurate information about the topic. This is why, among other reasons, I opted to write something different this time, something that despite enjoying it, I haven't done for a quite a while and had totally slipped my mind. If you are an old subscriber of mine, you would know that I'm talking about writing fiction.

Although it is not much, what you would be reading next is the first part of a story I'm currently writing. It is not yet finished and there is still a lot to do. I want to know what you think of it before going on. So if you have any remarks, or want to just share your impression about it, please write it down in the comments section below and I promise to read them all as soon as I fix the problem mentioned beforehand. Hopefully, it will not take more than a few weeks to find a permanent solution for this dilemma.

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The rays of sunlight sneaking through the window's open curtains woke her up as it crawled on her bare, pale skin. She looked around at her surroundings, rubbing her hazel eyes in an unsuccessful attempt to kick sleep away. She winced in displeasure as her pupils adjusted to the sudden brightness of the bedroom. By then, she was sleep dazed still. Yet, her sluggish, hardly functioning brain was trying to figure out an answer to a certain perplexity:

"Is it still morning? Or is it afternoon already?"

After quite a struggle, and plenty of huffs and puffs, she managed to drag herself to sit on the edge of the wooden bed. Fair to say, the girl was never deemed a paradigm of a "morning" person, and a quick glance at her was all what one might seek for a confirmation: with her repulsive frame of mind, her dishevelled, unkempt dark hair and especially the snarl on her otherwise fine, delicate features, she might had been offered to star in an Alfred Hitchcock movie, had he been still alive.

"God! Why everything has to be so bright today? This is not how a " Bright day" is ought to be!"

She moaned irately to herself, eyelids flickering as she endeavoured to make out the red, dazzling figures displayed on the screen of the alarm clock sitting nearer than a stone's throw from her bed. However, and at this point, her ears were operating much better than her eyes, and it was not as hard for her eardrums to discern the rumble reverberating from downstairs. Had she not already been awaken thanks to the curtains she was too lazy to draw last night, this uproarious cacophony would have done the job. Not to say that was never the case before in this household.

Right on cue, soothing, lulling music emanated from the alarm clock, filling the room with what most people would deem a lullaby rather than a 7am alarm. Not unexpectedly, no detective skills were required to determine why the girl was most likely to oversleep in each and every morning, and hence, the reason behind her coming to prominence as her highschool's "tardy".

Nevertheless, her recurrent belatedness was merely one of several behaviours which prompted her teachers, or " the bunch of idiots with a bunch of inane rules" as she often referred to them, to brand her as a delinquent trouble maker.

Granted, with such a rebellious behaviour, it was not hard to perceive why, in her teachers' point of view, she was a stereotypical embodiment of the disgruntled, blatant teenager; she was, more than anything else, a rebel who resented all kinds of "ties and bounds" imposed on her, claiming herself untamed by custom and rules, which, in her reasoning, were made to trample down. Furthermore, she boasted non stop about her free, "anti-meek" spirit and had no inhibitions about embracing spontaneity, rejecting conformity and living in the unconventional way she desired.

However, and if truth be told, her performance at school did by no mean reflect her behaviour, if not contradict it. That is to say, she did surprisingly well, and overall, the grades she maintained were better than those of many of her peers.

This unexpected academic excellence, which was the sole rational explanation for why her school never went further than acute reprimands to sanction her deeds, stemmed from her eagerness to resuscitate her chances of admitting into a prominent college after graduating high school next year. Not at least for the sake of a brilliant academic career, but also, and in her own words, to wrench herself away from whatever ill fate lashing her and her small, mundane hometown together. Although, and taking into account her discipline, she was aware that "resuscitate her chances" was not a figurative exaggeration. In the end, not so many top tier colleges would take interest in a student carrying a disciplinary file thicker than a dictionary. But that was a matter she decided to leave and worry about in due time.