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Posts : 1059
Join date : 2009-11-09
Age : 30
Location : My room Biatches!

Westerfield Rewitten Empty Westerfield Rewitten

Sat Nov 28, 2009 10:43 pm
“Alana, Alana...It's time to come upstairs, I've finished with the sales for today.” Alana smiled softly to herself as she heard Samuel's slow baritone float down the stairs that connected the bookstore to its basement storage room. The soft sound reminded Alana of a kind of gentle vocal lullaby, and she used that connection to classify it as Samuel's voice.

“I'll be right up Sam! I just need to put away my journal!” With a smile on her face Alana stretched her arms above her head before lowering them slowly as she rose from her chair. She grabbed her journal off of the table used to repair the bindings of the older books that found their way to the store, and put it on the bookshelf nearest to the door. She knew the journal would be safe there since Samuel left the basement duties to Alana. His knees ached from time to time and Alana worried he might fight with the stairs and lose. She paused and turned towards the base of the stairs as Samuel's voice drifted down to her again.

“What's taking you so long dear, do I need to send for the Bryant boy?”His voice sounded teasing as he called down to her again accompanied by a chuckle. Alana rolled her eyes before sending a quick look around the room to make sure the storage appeared orderly before turning off the light and dashing up the stairs. She nearly knocked Samuel over as she reached the top of the stairs, the heaviness of the darkness propelling her upwards. He stopped her with his hands, resting them gently upon her sloping shoulders and grinning at her flushed face.

“No need to send for him Sam, I'm right here. Besides you know how long it takes to get him to leave when he's concerned about me!” Alana frowned and scrunched her eyes in distaste. Michael Bryant followed her around like a lost puppy. Other girls might find such an occurrence charming, but not Alana. Samuel chuckled softly as he gazed down at her. His voice sounded like a deep bark as he laughed. His laughter rumbled in his chest and sprung forth like a jet stream from his mouth and his pale blue eyes shone in merriment as he looked at Alana's distress.

“Ha, well dear perhaps you should try to make the poor lad realize you don’t return his feelings instead of leading him on.” Samuel grinned at Alana and moved to behind the counter, opening the drawer of the register to collect the days till. Alana let out a frustrated sigh and raked her hand through her medium length hair as she walked to the counter.

“Is it really my fault he mistakes politeness for fancy?” She leaned against the counter and watched as Samuel’s nimble fingers flicked through the bills and his lips murmured the number. “I’ve tried to make it so he understands I don’t like him like that…but I just can’t find it in myself to be rude to him. He gets that kicked puppy look you know Sam?” He nodded his head as she ranted, causing Alana’s frown to grow as she became more annoyed.” You’re lucky I’m too fond of you to consider poisoning you Sam.” Her threat fell dead in the air as Samuel just smiled and looked at her knowing she lacked the mean bones in her body to commit such a crime.

“So what’s for dinner tonight Alana my dear?” Sometimes the knack he processed for changing the subject made Alana envious. She chuckled softly and stuck out her tongue at him, a rather childish gesture, but a necessary one. Samuel and Alana joked often, and during the time of her employment they grew close. Something akin to how a grandchild and grandparent interact, Alana and Samuel knew almost exactly how each other felt Alana smiled at Samuel, her eyes glancing down at his hands. She loved his hands; they reminded Alana of her grandmother’s hands. His fingers tapered at the tips, and his skin tone resembled the color of aged leather. Samuel’s old age only made his nimble fingers all the more amazing. The fact of his existence, Samuel’s age of ‘99’ years old, gave Alana reason to admire how well he worked. With those old hands of his Samuel counted money accurately, he flipped through pages of books quickly, and he shook hands firmly with everyone he met.

“Dinner will be ready around the usual time Sam, but until I set the plates in front of you, you will not know what I am making.”

Last edited by Ducky on Mon Aug 09, 2010 1:08 pm; edited 2 times in total (Reason for editing : I'm rewriting everything...)
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