About the author: Roberta Pescow is a freelance writer with articles featured on over 200 websites nationwide. She is also a jazz singer with Narrow Escape Duo, performing at venues in and around Northern New Jersey. Roberta is a proud mother of two, and holds a 2nd degree black belt in Tae Kwon Do. As a long time vegetarian, she has a deep love and respect for all creatures. When she gets some free time, Roberta also enjoys sculpture, photography, reading, swimming and quiet time with family, friends and her beloved dog, Summer.
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Jenny accepts the fact that she was born into a domestic race for a life of domestic work. In return for this loyal service, the householders provide food, protection and shelter. Jenny's earthy spirituality and gentle nature allow her to be content with her lot, even when her situation is far from ideal. But during a terrifying fire, Jenny accidentally becomes separated from her master and mistress.
Out on the street with no identification, Jenny finds herself an unlikely fugitive with no protection from a dangerous world. The experience shakes her beliefs to the core and causes her to question everything she has ever known. Follow Jenny's adventures in strange world of inequality that is a lot closer to home than you think. This novelette is approximately 12,000 words in length.
- Digital Book
- Published: June 21, 2012
- Language: English
- Source: I received this novelette in exchange for an honest review.
- Stars: 4
This is a quick read. I can't do an in-depth review because I don't want to give anything away. The novelette follows Jenny through her comfort zone and into a world she never thought she'd have to deal with. It's a good story. I wasn't sure what to expect from the cover, and the blurb leaves enough for the imagination to play with. I felt for Jenny as I read it, I wanted things to be okay and that's important- that you can connect to the characters. I totally did in this one. I just wish it was longer.
If you're looking for a quick read, and you like stories like this, then pick it up at one of the listed retailers.
September 19 - My Reading Addiction
September 20 - Anatea's Bookshelf
September 21 - Unabridged Andra
September 22 - Bibliophilia, Please
September 23 - Story Factory Reading Zone
September 23 - Cozie Corner
September 24 - My Seryniti
September 25 - Book Haven Extraordinaire
September 26 - Just Another Rabid Reader
September 27 - For the Love of Film and Novels
September 28 - Laurie's Reviews and Thoughts
September 28 - Sweeping the USA
Somewhere in the cacophony of sound, I could make out the high-pitched voices of Victoria and Alexandra crying my name in the dark night outside. “Miss Jenny! Miss Jenny!” they called. “Oh Mommy, Daddy - Miss Jenny is still in there,” they wailed. The response was firm. “No! You both stay right here!” the master shouted. “You can’t go back inside or you’ll be killed for sure.” It was then that I panicked in earnest. The fire growled without mercy and I heard screams all around me. I could feel my feet beginning to burn painfully. I tried to steady my mind. If it was time for me to return to the Great Mother, then that could not be undone and all my protests would not change my fate. If it was my time, I could accept that, I realized, only why did it have to hurt so much?
And then the oddest thing happened. I know this sounds rather implausible, and maybe you’ll chalk it up to the insanity of oxygen deprivation, but I heard the most beautiful whisper dance across the black smoke. I blinked my eyes with the shock of it, a whisper of such great love and comfort, that even in my most dire situation I could feel nothing but joy.
“It is not your time, little one,” she told me, “although the path you are walking will bring you home sooner than expected. You must turn back, and you will find escape where you thought there was none.”
Escape where I thought there was none? What could she possibly mean? But who was I to question? I retraced my steps and headed back to the nursery. The flames had not yet reached this area, and I was overcome with relief at any respite from the growing inferno. Even if only for this moment, I was grateful for this space of relative cool and darkness. But then I turned and noticed, to my amazement, the wide-open window and the pale curtains dancing wildly in the cold night wind. I could have sworn that window was closed a moment ago. We never would have retired in such a drafty room. To this day, how it got opened it remains a mystery. But I had no time to ponder the mysterious gifts of the Great Mother. It was now or never. Without hesitation, I took a literal leap of faith into the night.
To my amazement, the rats appeared to be as afraid of me as I was of them, and they made a hasty retreat. Still shaking, I approached the garbage can and reached toward the lid. In my uncertain state, I was clumsier than I would have liked. I’m embarrassed to say I dropped the lid and tipped the entire garbage can over with an awful clash. I had but a moment to grab a loaf of challah before a group of workers came rushing out of the bakery to investigate the commotion. I ran like the wind, even though my feet hurt terribly, and luck stayed with me in that none of them had the time or inclination to pursue me any distance.
And so I found myself back at the enormous cardboard box, sitting in a corner and munching on sweet, fresh challah bread that was only very slightly burned at the crust. Actually I felt quite pleased with myself. Adrenaline still surged through my brain, making the sky seem brighter, the air fresher and even the bread sweeter than I could have ever imagined. I had never felt so alive! Perhaps my mother was wrong, I thought, and I could work things out on my own after all.
One of the legends of our people is that long ago, when the earth was young, our first ancestors had no association at all with the householders. They survived only by their strength, their cunning and their skills. But then, the legend has it, something was altered in our line and we no longer were born with the attributes necessary for survival. Thus, we were forever destined to serve the householders, who in return, maintain us. Perhaps this story is true, or perhaps it is not. Domestics have served householders ever since the beginning of our known history. But on that morning, with stolen sweetness still warm on my tongue, I began to believe there was something to that old story, and that at least some tiny vestige of our proud, ancient ancestors coursed through my gentle veins.