excerpts from “frEEd ?”

by penelope waFFle

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frEEd ? but never frEE. not for me. 

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Oh, Martha. I’m so very, very soRRy. 

I woke up to needles…

…pricking at my flesh. As I struggled to get out of the hedge’s prickly grasp, I spotted — out of the corner of my eyes — a tiny house. And I knew what a tiny house was because my owner had one.

There were no lights on.

So I assumed nobody was there. Looking left and then right. Slowly. To make sure no one was there, I quietly approached the tiny house.

The door was already open, though, by just a crack. I opened the door wider and carefully peered inside. On a small table sat a plate with a modest smidgen of salted pork and roasted potatoes on it.

I had already run away. So what was the point in not eating the food? Besides, I was famished.

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The first bite of the fOOd…

…was scrumptious and filled my mouth with delight. The flavor exploded in my mouth. I had never eaten anything so delicious.

All I ever had to eat…

…was a little cornmeal, lard, and greens. I chewed slowly, savoring the roasted potatoes. Soon — way too soon — I finished the fOOd. I felt way more full than I had ever been.

“If only Martha was here,” I heard myself think. Outloud.

Martha. I suddenly stood up straight. Alarmed.

Where was Martha?

Is she okay?

Did she manage to escape?

Or is she still with her owner?

All the happiness I had abruptly vanished.

Instead, when I realized what might have happened to Martha, I began to sob.

“Oh, Martha, I’m so sorry. I’m so very, very sorry,” I wept.

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frEEd – but not reaLLy frEE – read chapter 2 – martha

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Hi, my real name is …

… Vivaka. I like my real name. But my pen name is penelope waFFle. ‘Cuz I like waFFles. And I reaLLy like puTTing double caps in the miDDle of words. And I like pink.  

… into the blOOdy skin on my wrists.

Men were behind me, ready to beat me with their whips.

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frEEd ? chapter 2 – martha

And I braced myself to feel  more pain in my already bloody back.

Seemed like hours.

I was starting to think my new owner changed his mind. But then I felt a sharp, clear ache cutting into the shredded skin on my back.

I had to scream, but no sound would come out.

“Ain’t no one gonna help ya, sweetie,” my owner chided.

Suddenly I found my voice. “Jim!” I screamed. “Jim! Help me.”

Another dig in my skin with the handle end of his whip. This one harder than the last.

“Ain’t no one comin’ ta help ya. Ya know why?”

… to my face that I could feel his tobacco breathe on my neck. And his lips were level with my ear.

“Cause no one cares ’bout ya,” he snarled.

“Yes. Yes, they do.” My voice was barely a whisper. Tears of shame and rage and fear rolled down my cheeks.

“Oh really? Where are they now? Too scared, huh?” My owner taunted. “I’ll even let them pass if they a-comin’ right now.”

“They’re too scared. And they don’t care ’bout you. Which is exactly why no one has come for ya.”

It felt like he was trying to kiss my neck. And he started touching me. Below. Where he shouldn’t…

Did I dare do this now? His face became flushed, clearly enjoying what he was doing.

His fingers holding the whip loosened. And then, without even realizing it, my owner dropped it.

… I picked it up, banged the wooden whip handle against his head as hard as I could.

And then hands came out of nowhere. Before I could scream, dirty fingers covered my mouth. I tried to pry them off, but they gripped even tighter over my mouth.

The last thing I remembered hearing was “Be careful. She’s dangerous, Scott.”

And then I felt someone opening my mouth, and putting something in it.

… Vivaka. I like my real name. But my pen name is penelope waFFle. ‘Cuz I like waFFles. And I reaLLy like puTTing double caps in the miDDle of words.

I like pink.

Thud, thud, thud.

My feet pounded the sidewalk.

Thud, thud, thud.

excerpts from “frEEd ?”

by penelope waFFle

I doubt it.

The sound was faint.

But I held it all inside.

… Vivaka. I like my real name. But my pen name is penelope waFFle. ‘Cuz I like waFFles. And I reaLLy like puTTing double caps in the miDDle of words.

I am the “next big thing” to hit the history thriller book market. Hey, why not ?

my name is penelope waFFle, and I’m gonna be a New York Times Best Selling Author by age 12.