I wrote this one short-story for my English class, and then again for a school’s contest. It was titled “Cold Tea.” I got the inspiration for it from a tumblr picture of a tea cup on a log. I could picture the story vividly, like it was right in front of me. I knew the characters right away. Dain the mischevious little boy who refused to attend school, and Vivian the little girl who was intrigued by his antics. They became friends at a young age, and then as they grew older, their friendship blossomed into something more. But a tragedy seperates them…
ANYWHO, I have came to the point of turning it into a novel, “Cold Tea.” And I have placed it in the 1910-1920s of Charleston, West Virginia. Around the time of the coal mining wars like Matewan and Blair Mountain. Here’s a little raw excerpt that I have just written between Vivian and Dain. Hope you enjoy!
“Are you okay, Vivie?” Dain breathes, going to her side. “Did he hurt you?”
Vivian stares at her hand, the one that her suitor stepped on. It’s bruising already, she’s afraid that one of her fingers is broken.
Dain carefully picks up her hand, and gently rubs his fingertips over the whelp, she winces. “You’ll need to see a doctor about this, Vivian.” He says, as he inspects it. “And the sheriff to… report what he did—what he wanted to do.”
Vivian scoffs. “All the lawmakers are too busy at the Blair Mountain trials. Also, if they were here, they ain’t gonna’ do nuthin’ to an out of townsman like the likes of him.” She tries to clench her fist, only to yelp in sudden agony. “Papa can’t afford a doc for me.”
Dain smirks. “Boy, if only yer mother heard yew talkin’ like yew do.” He mocks her accent, trying to lighten the mood. “She’d have ya hide. She taut’ yew the proper way to talk, all of those years—”
“What are you doing here, Dain?” Vivian asks, curtly, masking her mountain accent.
“Returnin’ your parasol.” Dain says, reaching behind him for the little umbrella that she must have dropped in town. “Ya fergot’ it when you leftit’ hooked on my boot. Ya remember?” he raises an eyebrow at her.
Vivian blushes. “You shouldn’t have intervened.” She says. “I had it under control.”
Dain chuckles. “I know you did, but my way was less messier.” He winks. “Didn’t want to mess up that purty dress of yers.”
– “Cold Tea” (the novel)