Post by Deleted on Jan 12, 2014 0:36:16 GMT
my username is washington.
Character Name: Genevieve Mae Willis
Allegiance: Canadian (Allied)
Requested Rank: Field Medic
History: Beyond the existence of a optimistic Canadian farm child, were two souls who lived beyond the harsh prejudice and racism that reigned in United States, these two souls were African-Americans that escaped the harsh clutches of the Jim Crow South and migrated to the North, finding their home on Canadian soil.
James “Jimmy” Willis was born to a poor farmer family in Tuskegee, Alabama in 1881. Due to the hardships of those his color, his family were barely scrapping by to feed their four children. Jimmy would travel into town to obtain menial jobs to help rake in more pennies, but for the most part; he would help his father with the wheat farm. It was not until later on in his life when he brushed against a beauty, that beauty was named Ella Danders.
Ella was cut from the same clock. Her parents help some shards of land from the Reformation promise years before she was born. The family’s only baby girl was born on a chilly evening in 1902. Due to her gender, Ella mostly spent her childhood and youth alongside her mother, but at times she caught the wild hair and caught crickets with the boys. As she matured, Ella grasped the responsibilities in becoming a young woman- shelving the jars of dried butterflies for a squirt of perfume on the collarbone. It was when Ella turned fourteen; she was married off to a farmhand named Donny Childers. Donny was the “nice, charming guy” in front of the graces of her parents, but once they were alone he was rather cold and distant.
It was a simple run-in, just a passing grace, but it was that moment where their hearts intertwined.
It was a bright, summer afternoon when Ella and Jimmy met. She was picking out fresh fruits at the local produce, while he was in town picking up parts for his broken tractor. It all started as a simple hello, just simple small talk but in those fleeting moments their conversation had evolved into deeper understanding, something that both souls were not truly apt for.
Of course it took their silence and secrecy to catch a glimpse of one another, it took the silence of the moon to hold their experiences close of beating heartbeats; it was the ambitious imagination that dripped from Jimmy’s pink lips that lured Ella to turn her sights to a better life, a life beyond the Jim Crow fence- beyond the static marriage that her ring finger was tied to. All it took was one stormy April, the humid evening of rumbling thunder where the young woman made up her mind. Without much wasted haste, her fingers released the binding band, letting it slip into the mud.
The two traveled with other hopeful souls, taking the experiences of their rural life into the more populated Northern cities, but their lifestyle and skin color seemed to have only reaped bitter prejudice or menial sympathy from forced smiles- it was apparent in their bones that they were hardly welcomed in the American grandstand. But those nights did not truly shake the couple; they only looked beyond the border for a more warm future. During the summer of 1921, Ella and Jimmy crossed the border into Canada. It was there where Ella changed her surname to Willis, claiming their eloped love, but no one seemed to bat an eyelash only wishing great tidings for their future. The Willis’s were able to obtain a good 150 acres of wheat lands outside of Birtle, Manatobia- much more than what their ancestors were falsely promised back during Reconstruction in the South. Due to the witty experience under the older man’s belt, he was able to support himself and his wife during the boom of Earthly agriculture, while Ella used her hands to create various pastries and breads to sell to the friendly townsfolk. In 1923, the young dame bore a healthy baby boy one chilly autumn. Jacob Nathaniel Willis was followed by another boy, Luther Elton Willis in 1924.
Both boys held their rambunctious spirits in the clutches of their tiny hands, nearly getting into everything within arm’s reach, including the fruit preserves that their mother attempted to shelve. Both parents believed that the two boys were enough but Ella was surprised with the birth of a baby girl, bearing the name, Genevieve Mae Willis in 1926.
Ever since she was a babe, Genevieve trailed the mischievous examples of her older siblings, getting her hands into the soft flour or the sticky blackberry jam. The hand of discipline had attempted to round up the spirited children, but their feet never stopped discovering new imaginations and carrying them far off from the sparse civilization. When Genevieve was not catching frogs or chasing their dog around, her eyes would find books to read. Anything from The Velveteen Rabbit to donated medical books, the girl would sit quietly and drown in the English language and hand drawn pictures. This fascination for medicine continue to trail her heels, expanding to the point when she would wrap the family dog up in bandages or create “experimental” concoctions to remedy a common cold. Jimmy picked up on this though, willing opening the door for his daughter to follow her passion, rather than falling into the circle of becoming a farm hand. During her adolescence, Genevieve was able to intern under the guidance of Dr. Phillip Williams, Birtle’s acclaimed doctor until she was seventeen.
Following Jacob’s and Luther’s footfalls for military service, Genevieve enlisted in the Royal Canadian Army Medical Corps (RCAMC) in 1943. Due to her experience in medicine and medical procedures, she was able to bypass the extensive classes and become a field medic. To this day, she has not personally seen her older brothers, still holding onto the silent prayer that they are still alive and well.
Writing Sample: She should have known the well-being she sold once her manuscript etched the dotted line, the soul she once held back in the quiet wheat of Birtle, the restless nights resting on lumpy cots in the chill of the European winters. Of course Genevieve should have understood that her life would never be the same.
The sounds of rapid artillery fire pulled the girl into her harsh reality. The sounds of bullets and screams bled together into one sound, lacing Genevieve in a momentary limbo of disorientation. Her eyes tended to deceive her, blinded by the natural darkness of the night and the bright flashes of muzzle light and flames. Pure anxiety and fear began to heat up her frame; her feet remained plastered onto the snow, remaining static for fear of catching a bullet through the flesh. For what seemed like years, Genevieve remained hidden in plain sight, blanketed by the forest shrubbery, watching as men dropped like flies left and right, praying to God that just maybe the fighting would cease just enough for her to dart off to tend to one of the wounded mortals- but this is war, not a picnic.
”Man down, we need a medic here!”
Shit. Her unwanted calling pierce through the heavy noise, dripping in desperation for the well-being of a fallen comrade. For a split second, it seemed as if her muscles twitched, feeding into the warmth of movement, but her feet still prevented any progress from being accomplished.
”Where the hell is a medic? We nee-“
Before the soldier’s sentence could be completed, an explosion from an enemy grenade quaked the stained earth. Their mouths fell silent as they retreated for more cover, leaving the injured bleeding out in the snow. This was her chance… breathe… move! Without any further thought, she burst forth from her hiding spot, making a beeline to the downed soldier. Genevieve checked for a pulse, which thankfully the young man still had one- but he was losing a considerable amount of blood. With the best of her ability, she eyes darted to find the wound and her hands readied the medical bag attached to her. More bullets continued to hail while more screams and shouts echoed through the frigid woods.’Bullet wound, upper-left clavicle, shattering the bone.’ Her thoughts continued to flow as she supplied the man with her water. He was still responsive and mobile, alert to his hostile surroundings much like the field nurse.
Genevieve inspected the wound a bit more, noting that he would need surgery to extract the object from his flesh. Before she would dress it, a bullet struck the cold snow by her, nearly striking her in the thigh. With anxiety rising once more, she tried to calm her breathing while sanitizing and covering the bloody hole and making a splint for his left arm. Carefully gripping the back collar of his greatcoat, Genevieve gingerly pulled the soldier onto safer ground, signaling for a medical carriage.
