The Saint of Liberty - Part 1

I have been writing like nobody's business lately which is a big reason I haven't done much on the Blog. I will start posting excerpts from my current story.

Here is the first:

Set in amongst giant redwoods is the quaint old Victorian town called Liberty. This town called Liberty looks much like it did eighty years ago. If it were not for the automobiles, street lights and telephone poles, one would swear that they had been transported to another time. The people of Liberty cherished that their little haven had done well at staving off the ills of modern society. They were proud to have a place that was filled with values that the rest of the country had turn their backs on. Yes it was always a challenge keeping children from being possessed with modern things like TV, but the whole town had worked together to keep the young folks of Liberty in line. Sure there were some kids that needed extra help, but the town was up to the challenge. One child that no one had to worry about was sweet Lilly Watson. Lilly's caring selflessness had made her an example of all that was good about Liberty. If ask to describe her one would have to say she was average. From her mousy brown hair and chocolate brown eyes there really wasn't one thing about her that stood out. She was just a normal looking young girl barely the age of ten. What made Lilly stand out was, as so many of the townspeople swore, she was truly a saint. She was the pride of Liberty; she had stolen the hearts of the whole town.
Lilly's accomplishments were many. Not only did Lilly help Fred Tucket at the animal shelter whenever she could, she also helped Mrs. Fatters with her garden. Mrs. Fatters had broke her hip a year to the day that old man Fatters died in his sleep. Since, she had troubles doing every thing that need to be done in her garden. The death of Mr. Fatters ended the little extra income that he had earned working at the towns Fireman's Museum. The Fatters had depended on that money to supplement their fixed income. Quickly after the death of her loving husband Mrs. Fatters realized she was in trouble. After several days of racking her brain she came to a conclusion, a garden. She would make the biggest garden her land would permit. She cried as she ripped out the rose garden. That was the hardest part. She then turned every square inch of her yard in to a garden, just as many had done during world war two. They had called them victory gardens. She canned as much as possible for the winter and sell any unused vegetables to the local market. She started to make strawberry preserves and selling them also. The garden had given her a feel of power she had never known while Mr. Fatters was alive. The garden that first year had saved her from certain ruin. Sure some days she would long for the roses that she had to rip out, but in the long run it had been worth it.
That first year Mrs. Fatters saved and made more money that Mr. Fatters had made the last year he was alive working at the museum. She found a new life at eighty, and then she broke her hip. One morning while Mrs. Fatters was still bed ridden Lilly came and offered her services. Mrs. Fatters offered a share of the profits but Lilly wouldn't have it. Lilly worked with Mrs. Fatters on her garden from March till October. She helped Mrs. Fatter do all the things that age and an achy hip had prevented her from doing. A mantra became common place in the wake of Mrs. Flatters as she walked downtown. Even the children started to copy what the people of Liberty had been saying for over a year now, "If it wasn't for sweet Lilly Watson, I don't think Mrs. Fatters would be with us any more." Some just started to say, "Lilly Watson, the saint of Liberty"'.