Creations by Leah (tharntype novel english txt) 📕

"Leah, Leah can you hear me? Katherine get me more string. Leah I'm doctor Phelps, I created you."
This is how my life started. When i was a child I was diagnosed with small pocks and died from them, but that was years ago. Now I live with my father, Jacob Phelps.
"Dad, why can't I go to school?" I would ask.
"Because you're different." He simply stated.
"Aren't all people different?"
"Yes my love, but you are truly different and some people are afraid of different. I wouldn't want you getting hurt."
"Oh, okay." That was how the conversation always ended.
One morning I went out back to play when I spotted two girls. One of the girls was laughing while the other looked rather suspicious. I figured they were lost because no one ever came into this part of the woods. That was my one chance at being normal and I blew it.
I walked over to the girls and smiled. "Are you lost?" I asked casually.
"No, we're fine. We don't need help." This girl had short brown hair and sparkling green eyes that disapproved of me.
"Don't listen to her." The other was a short blond with light blue eyes. "Truth is we're lost. Could you direct us to the Northwood Tower please? I'm Alexis and this is Sarah." She gestured toward the brunette.
"Sure, but what are you doing way out here anyway? Don't the woods scare you?"I frowned at Alexis, only to find her smiling back at me.
"Then why are you here?" she asked.
"I live here."
The girl named Sarah burst into laughter. "Sure you do. No one lives back here."
"I do to live here!"
"Well," Alexis began to walk in circles around me, her long, flowing hair swaying in the autumn breeze. "There are rumors of a haunted lab run by a crazy guy by the name of Phelps." At this Sarah chuckled.
"Oh," I calmly stated. I turned and store over to her, “And you don’t believe these so called rumors."
"Of course not. You are just here to scare us, matter-of-fact I bet you are not even a real rag doll."
Rag doll?!
"What do you mean?" I stared blankly at Sarah, her blue eyes seeping into mine. Rag doll? I had never herd of such a thing.
"Sure, now your playing dumb." She rolled her eyes and behind me I heard Alexis giggle.
"I don’t know what you’re talking about." I frowned; I was losing my patients. "Alright I’ll play along. You look like a doll," she sighed when I didn’t respond. "You know, a child’s toy. What with all your stitches and colors."
"Well," I didn’t know what to say. All my life I had loved my stitches. I thought they made me unique, and now I was on the verge of crying. Dad was right; somehow he knew people wouldn’t accept me. He knew I would get bullied and teased. That was why he’d never send me to school.
That was when it happened.
I was about to make a come back when the blonde screamed and was pulled into the bushes.
"Alexis!" Sarah screamed. I stood motionless; unsure of what had happened.
"Sarah run!" Alexis’s voice sounded distant and muffled. No sooner had she began to run when the bush swallowed her as well.
"Alexis!" she cried, "Help me!"
The bushes shook violently then became still. In the distance I could here the girls footsteps as they ran for their lives.
Why hadn’t the bush swallowed me? I was about to find out when I was called into the house by my mother.

Later, my father and I were forced to move because of my little “incident.” A mob appeared and burned the house down, killing my mother. My father and I grieved for weeks, but truth is I wasn’t as sad as I should have been, which made me feel guilty.
Everything changed from there. Dad tried to replace her, but was too depressed to get it right. He often sent me to my room for no reason at all. I assumed he was reflecting on the incident and intended to punish me for it.
The harder he tried to keep his sanity the faster it slipped away from him. I was almost never aloud to leave my room except for meal times. I had plenty to do I assure you, I read a book or two, painted my room, and practiced my sowing. I made sheets for my bed, clothes for supper, and an escape rope. I often used the escape rope to get to the garden on the second floor. I love flowers and without the occasional rose, my room looks like a graveyard.

One night while I was eating the usual, spaghetti and meatballs, dad surprised me with some interesting news.
"Leah, I’ve enrolled you in school."
I about choked on my meatball. "What!?"
"You heard me, it’s a high school for special kids like you. You start MSaturday."
I jumped up and rocketed past the ten rows of chairs. "Thank you Dad! Thank you."
For the first time in five years he smiled, "Your welcome. Now go to your room."
"Yes, sir." I smiled and took the two flights of stairs two at a time. I couldn’t wait. What was school like? Would the other students accept me?
I slowed my pace. Was this a good idea, going to school? Of course it was, Dad said it was for people like me, so it must be safe.
I sighed coming to the roof. The door was wood, the only wood door in the house. It creaked when it opened and shut, sighing from the great weight of the roof. My room was no better.
A twin bed was in the very corner of the room by the only window. The desk was placed at the foot of the bed, surrounded in molten paper, string, and needles. A closet was hidden in the other corner of the room, overflowing with clothes.
Dad had gotten a deal on the building. It was four floors high, including the roof. The first floor was where my father lived. The second floor was the garden and laboratory. The third floor was solely dedicated to lab work. Everything looked new and remolded. The fourth floor was the only floor that showed the history of the building. I have asked Dad more than once to let me remodel the roof, and more than once he’s said no.
I sat at the desk and took out an old book with a small keyhole set into the binding. I set the book down and went over to my closet. In the very corner under a pile of clothes lay a small brown box. I opened it to reveal a small silver key. I picked up the key with gentle hands and brought it over to where the book patiently awaited its arrival. There was a soft click as the key opened the book. I flipped to a blank page and scribbled down the date. This was my mother’s diary, and now it was mine.

*Today my father surprised me by telling me I could go to school. Maybe him becoming insane was a good thing after all. I hope school will be all that I’ve hoped it would be. I hope I will make friends and that they will accept me for who I am. Even if I’m ugly on the outside, I’m sure there is something beautiful hidden deep within me.*

I sighed as the door locked behind me. I frowned and looked at the dead flower on my desk. When was the last time I traveled to the second floor?

It had to be about two when I was ready for the trip. I had converted the key into a necklace, to give me strength. I pushed open my medieval window and swung the rope over. it sat nicely on the small balcony by the biggest window. I glanced at the map I had made years ago one last time before heading out. I was ready.
I swung both legs out the window, careful not to let my stitches snag on the jagged edge. I jumped out holding on the rope, and turned landing both feet on the side of the building. I climbed down the side of the house, landing soundlessly on the balcony. I pushed on the window, hoping it wasn’t locked. It swung open, creating a cloud of dust. I looked to the sky. It was a starless night; which was disappointing, but at least the moon was on my side.
I slipped inside and closed the window. Every thirty minutes one of my Dad’s flouriest comes in to check on the plants and according to my watch she was just here. I would have to move fast if I was to get the flower in time.
I ran down a row of exotic plants to a door that read, "Employs Only." I went inside without another look. There was a single rose that always brightens my room and the species was always under treatment. It was a white rose with horizontal black lines that covered the pedals. I smiled as I spotted it. I walked toward it, eager to stroke its pedals.
The lights flickered on and I had just enough time to duck under the table. My dad had entered the room. What was he doing up so late? Why was he here?
"It’s a school for monsters," he was saying. "I needed her out of the building so I could proceed with the project."
"Yes, sir. About the project, what would you like me to do about our little problem?" A short stocky woman with long brown hair followed him into the room.
"Lock it up. Take it to the third floor."
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I was being used. I needed to get out of here fast. I snuck up from under the table, grabbed the rose, and made for the door as quietly as I could.
As soon as I was out I didn’t look