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Description

Prologue

            She was born on an early summer day. With cloudless blue skies and birds singing "good morning" in the warm air.   Born to the loving parents of Peter and Elizabeth White, with beautiful brown eyes, and tiny strands of brown hair.   Her parents were glowing, laughing, holding each other's hands.   The first born child was always an unforgettable memory.

            However, soon their joyous memory turned to fear.

            Although the child cried, not a sound had come from her mouth.   Only deep breaths. The child's face was red and wet with tears. But the air was never filled with her voice.

            Her name came to be Percsilla Joana White. The girl who was born without a voice.

            Most of her young life was filled with doctors and specialists. Always going through the same routine, asking the same questions, always with the same answers. As time passed, the White's stopped going to the doctors and the specialists, which Percy didn't mind, she never liked going anyway. They had come to grasps that their child would never speak. She would never grace the world with her voice.

            They had begun to teach her sign language, which was an obvious and natural course of action, along with writing and spelling.   Percsilla never seemed to care for those options. They told her that her hands would become her voice. But it never felt like much of a voice. Percsilla found it much easier, and was much happier in doing so, to speak through pictures. Drawing the places she wanted to go, or the food she wanted to eat. Forming the words she could not speak into beautiful works of art.

            Percsilla was a very curious girl. Always wanting to explore and go on adventures. She would travel into town, explore the local shops, walk through her neighborhood, climb the small hills and search through the forest. When she arrived home just before the sun would set or when dinner was ready, she arrived with new ideas and fables. Quickly eating dinner to rush to her room to draw them out before the stories left her mind.

            Although she could not speak, her parents never looked at her as vulnerable. Ground rules were laid out of course, but as long as she followed them, she was allowed to do what she pleased. She carried a touch screen tablet, in which she could write on, and send messages to her family if she was out or changed her destination, and a drawing pad and notebook with her where ever she went. Her items were kept safe in a silver sling over bag with a small pink heart embroidered on the front that her mother made for her many years ago.

            As she aged, she grew tired of the same town and the same shops. the same hills and the same neighborhood. But never once, had she become tired of the forest. The forest was always changing. It changed with the weather and the seasons. Never looking or feeling the same.   It brought new wonder and new adventure every day.

Description

Prologue

            She was born on an early summer day. With cloudless blue skies and birds singing "good morning" in the warm air.   Born to the loving parents of Peter and Elizabeth White, with beautiful brown eyes, and tiny strands of brown hair.   Her parents were glowing, laughing, holding each other's hands.   The first born child was always an unforgettable memory.

            However, soon their joyous memory turned to fear.

            Although the child cried, not a sound had come from her mouth.   Only deep breaths. The child's face was red and wet with tears. But the air was never filled with her voice.

            Her name came to be Percsilla Joana White. The girl who was born without a voice.

            Most of her young life was filled with doctors and specialists. Always going through the same routine, asking the same questions, always with the same answers. As time passed, the White's stopped going to the doctors and the specialists, which Percy didn't mind, she never liked going anyway. They had come to grasps that their child would never speak. She would never grace the world with her voice.

            They had begun to teach her sign language, which was an obvious and natural course of action, along with writing and spelling.   Percsilla never seemed to care for those options. They told her that her hands would become her voice. But it never felt like much of a voice. Percsilla found it much easier, and was much happier in doing so, to speak through pictures. Drawing the places she wanted to go, or the food she wanted to eat. Forming the words she could not speak into beautiful works of art.

            Percsilla was a very curious girl. Always wanting to explore and go on adventures. She would travel into town, explore the local shops, walk through her neighborhood, climb the small hills and search through the forest. When she arrived home just before the sun would set or when dinner was ready, she arrived with new ideas and fables. Quickly eating dinner to rush to her room to draw them out before the stories left her mind.

            Although she could not speak, her parents never looked at her as vulnerable. Ground rules were laid out of course, but as long as she followed them, she was allowed to do what she pleased. She carried a touch screen tablet, in which she could write on, and send messages to her family if she was out or changed her destination, and a drawing pad and notebook with her where ever she went. Her items were kept safe in a silver sling over bag with a small pink heart embroidered on the front that her mother made for her many years ago.

            As she aged, she grew tired of the same town and the same shops. the same hills and the same neighborhood. But never once, had she become tired of the forest. The forest was always changing. It changed with the weather and the seasons. Never looking or feeling the same.   It brought new wonder and new adventure every day.