Writing a New : Anne
instructions:''Take a
distance to the event.
Choose a phrase in the list and keep writing, follow the echoes in you: continue the story, saying the atmosphere, the show or the characters.
Duration: 1 hour. The text will undoubtedly incomplete: The goal here is to start the story, to flesh out the story, characters ... You
can of course continue writing this text after this first work an hour.
I chose the first sentence: Miss Annie
Motleri heard a knock at the door and opened it.
New Here: Miss Annie
Motleri heard a knock at the door and opened . A well-dressed man of about sixty years, he was facing. He was holding an old small black suitcase, which he filed without delay at his feet. With a strong Parisian accent, he said:''Hello, am I at Motleri Annie?''
A little surprise she replied:''Yes, why?''
At these words the stranger's eyes grew troubled, her hands seemed thankful, and he muttered:''Since the time I look for you ...''Then a voice ensured he began a long monologue:''That is, if I'm not mistaken, you're my sister, or more exactly my half-sister. I'm Motleri Roland, born in Paris during the last war in 1944, the year my father died in deportation. My mother penniless and without family was resigned to place myself in the Public Assistance. I spent my entire childhood in foster care, all concerned with my education, but sometimes avaricious affection. Twice a year I received a visit from my mother. Our contacts have kept that pace until my teens, a period where I was living a second tragedy with his sudden disappearance.
and I lost all family ties and from that moment on, thanks to bits of information that had previously eradicated from my mother, I never stopped searching for my paternal origins. I learned that my father John Motleri, had a first marriage and a daughter named Annie that separation, Annie and her mother took to the south between Nice and Marseille to get closer to the maternal family. In the 70 and 80, after attending a few tracks, I kinda lost hope to see you, but the internet gave me the strength to resume the search. And after many efforts and many think I have reached my sister.''
Throughout the presentation, the eyes of Annie Motleri had to turn misty. This little lady bronzed by the sun and the breeze of La Londe Les Maures, between Hyères and Le Lavandou, had supported the doorframe of his front door. It remained open mouth, as if time had suddenly stopped as if she was dreaming or awake. After a long silence, his eyes brightened and was his turn to speak:
''Yes, I am Motleri Annie, daughter of John and Odette Motleri Motleri. Indeed, my father and mother separated in 1938 and I was five.
I also know that my father had remarried and that his death he was a boy, but at this time when war raged, we had already left the capital to bring my mother take refuge in Provence. I So unfortunately not had contact with this child and his mother. I am pleased to meet you. Thank you, thank you. My biggest regret is that this is so late because I have seventy-four years ... But enough discussion on the doorstep, come in, we'll continue the conversation inside.''
At these words, Roland Motleri, took a step and then he approached Annie and handed him his little black bag which contained, through photographs and official papers, traveled all the way to achieve it. He took her hand, kissed it and pressed hard. The heavy door was closing and the new intimacy, a brother and sister would all find a little more of their identity.
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