(hey, so. i'm ella. i like writing. i like stories. so i started writing a story. it's pretty rough right now, but i just really wanted to share it somewhere. for a quick overview, richard johnson, the father of our main character bristol undergate, disappeared from despark, washington eleven years before the story takes place and is pronounced dead. this is kind of a little intro i wrote that would likely go in the first chapter. i like it so far. hope you do, too.)

In nineteenth century Russia, we write letters.

-”Letters”, from Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812

Richard Johnson disappeared on May 14th, 2006, a day before Bristol Undergate turned seven.

Richard Johnson had been many things. The husband to the world’s greatest author. The father to a girl who was too intelligent for her own good. The beating of a heart, the reason for another. He was hated by no one, loved by all. Richard Johnson was one of the greatest men to ever walk the ground of the earth.

Before he was gone.

Before he was gone.

Before he was gone.

He was one of the greatest men to ever walk the ground of the earth, before he disappeared a day before his daughter’s seventh birthday. He was one of the greatest men to ever walk the earth, before he disappeared without a trace except for twenty thousand dollars taken from his wife.

He was one of the greatest men to ever walk the earth, before he was pronounced dead in Chicago, Illinois, on May 27th, 2006.

Dead. Dead. Dead. Bristol Undergate had always hated the word, hated the thought of your soul being judged to determine how your immortal life played out. She believed in God, of course. She was also just as afraid of him.

Bristol Undergate was nearly the exact opposite of her father. Her dead father. It wasn’t that she wasn’t a nice person- people had gone out of their way before to tell her that she was as much. It was just that she didn’t exactly go out of her way to do good things as her father had done.

Richard Johnson and Bristol Undergate were polar opposites, from their taste in music, to their personality, to their religion. Bristol would go as far as to say they had nothing in common.

Nothing except their eyes, that Bristol looked at in the mirror every single day as a reminder that as much as she may hate him at the time, as much as she may want his name to disappear from the earth, she was still his daughter. He had given her absolutely nothing in her life. Nothing but his beautiful multi-colored eyes.

She hated it. She hated nothing else more.


(hi, everyone! i hope your day is going well. i know mine is, especially with the sudden surge of hearts you've given me, and this was featured under the articles channel! thanks so much. i'm working on a second part right now, but i don't exactly know when i'll publish it. if you're interested, please follow me so you can be aware when i do put it out! again, thank you so much for the support. <3)