Grace Williams Narrative

Grace Williams
Mr. Blair
9/16/18
The Flea Market
My name is Fern Elizabeth Brown. I am eleven years old. I go to a small school on the edge of London. Today is the twenty-third of November, 1945. My eleventh birthday. It is a bit foggy outside. After my lessons are over for the day, I start to walk home. I take the long way, past the flea market. They have lots of pretty things there. Maybe I can pick out something for my birthday. Sometimes, when I don’t want to be home right away, I walk the long way. My mother tells me not to go the long way because it is through a bad part of town. I do it anyway. I like going to the market to look at the pretty white china and pearl necklaces. I am not old enough to wear pearls yet. When I arrive at the market, I see a woman standing at a cart that has puppets on it. I walk over to the cart, and the woman standing there looks a bit sick, or scared. I look up at her and ask her what is wrong. She replies by shaking her head no. No? No, what? No, nothing is wrong? Oh, well. Why bother. I turn away from the woman and look back at the puppets. There is one that I am particularly drawn to. It is a man’s head with a hat and a mustache. The puppet reminds me of my uncle George.