Character Sketch and Background
Name: Ella Sanders
Nickname: Rose
Physical Description: Ella had very wavy, dark red hair that went just above her elbows, and had emerald green eyes to match. She had a few freckles scattered across the bridge of her perfectly shaped nose. She had long eyelashes bordering her eyes and had a fairly small mouth even though she was hardly ever quiet. Ella had pale skin that was natural, and also because she didn’t go outside much. She was a little taller than the average height for a seventeen year old girl like herself. She was very healthy and weighed about the amount she should have. She usually wore a simple green or red dress with black boots and a corset. She would occasionally wear other colors such as blue, purple, or orange dresses. She would usually tie her hair back and would rarely leave it down.
Background: Ella lived in the quickly growing city of San Francisco. She was forced against her will to work at her widowed mother’s flower shop alongside her older brother’s fiancé, who is also her best friend. Ella’s father died when she was only fourteen. She missed him very much and would think of him often and how he died. She believes that his business partner killed him. No one believes her.
Why she’s here: Ella always wanted to move out of the city and move somewhere in nature. Her best friend finally convinced her to go to the Yukon after her mother’s flower shop was closed. Ella agreed to leave.
Nickname: Rose
Physical Description: Ella had very wavy, dark red hair that went just above her elbows, and had emerald green eyes to match. She had a few freckles scattered across the bridge of her perfectly shaped nose. She had long eyelashes bordering her eyes and had a fairly small mouth even though she was hardly ever quiet. Ella had pale skin that was natural, and also because she didn’t go outside much. She was a little taller than the average height for a seventeen year old girl like herself. She was very healthy and weighed about the amount she should have. She usually wore a simple green or red dress with black boots and a corset. She would occasionally wear other colors such as blue, purple, or orange dresses. She would usually tie her hair back and would rarely leave it down.
Background: Ella lived in the quickly growing city of San Francisco. She was forced against her will to work at her widowed mother’s flower shop alongside her older brother’s fiancé, who is also her best friend. Ella’s father died when she was only fourteen. She missed him very much and would think of him often and how he died. She believes that his business partner killed him. No one believes her.
Why she’s here: Ella always wanted to move out of the city and move somewhere in nature. Her best friend finally convinced her to go to the Yukon after her mother’s flower shop was closed. Ella agreed to leave.
Dear Journal,
Earlier today, I set out to the Yukon. I arrived at the train station with just a small suit case when I realized that I was completely unprepared for this journey. Men and few women around me were carrying pick axes, canvas, food, plates, and more. I asked a man much older than me where I could get the things I needed and what I would need. He just stared at me. ‘How old are you, little girl?’ He wondered. I told him my age and he laughed then added, ‘Alaska is no place for a seven teen year old girl.’ I looked down in shame when a girl who looked about three years older than me walked up. She scolded her cousin for laughing at me and kindly told me where to go. I went to the shop she said I could get what I needed, but the rude merchant there wasted a lot of my time. The last train had left by the time I got back to the station. A boy my age said he would take me to a city in Canada where he was going to stay for the night. In the morning we boarded the train, and now we’re at the station so I have to stop writing for now.
-Ella
-Ella
Dear Journal,
I’m not ready for this. All I’ve ever known was the semi-clean city of San Francisco, my mother’s now closed flower shop, and me never having to do any work except standing behind a counter for a while. Here, it’s different. It’s dirty, it’s busy, there are very few kind people, it’s cold, and I’m extremely sore. I really want to go home. I’ve been told that’s weak, so I’m staying. I have to prove to everyone here that even though I might be young, I can still work hard enough to get rich off this gold rush. George (the boy I came here with) said that if I was this confident, that I was ready for this. I don’t believe him. It isn’t even much of a gold rush here anyways. Only two people have struck real gold so far and if there was so much gold here—enough to leave your family, friends, and home for—then why haven’t I gotten any? I’ve been here a month. I think that’s long enough.
-Ella
-Ella
Dear Journal,
Today, I have finally realized why they call it a gold rush. I was ranting to George about how much I hate this place when I tripped over a giant rock. I got kind of mad at it and killed it with my pick axe. When I had cracked the rock in half and I saw that the inside of the rock was completely gold. I killed the rock some more and set the gold free, being careful to be quiet so no one except George and I knew about it. I gave him half of the gold I found. He reluctantly took it. I told him to keep quiet about the gold just so no one tries to take it. You know, this place is growing on me. Sure, the dirt is awful but at least I’m not the only dirty one. And even though even being able to worry about theft makes this place worse but at least I have a friend here. I do miss my mother, brother, and best friend, Lucy, who are hopefully getting by in San Francisco.
-Ella
-Ella
Dear Journal,
This is not good. In the last entry I wrote two weeks ago, I found gold. A few days after that, George and I went back and killed more rocks, finding more gold. We happily took it back to camp with us that evening. Half of our tent was taken up by gold then. We were planning on leaving in a week, just so we don’t lose our money. Well, this is the ‘not good’ part. As we were in our tent that night eating out supper, a girl and a boy who we had talked to once before walked into our tent. We asked them to join us and we fed them that night. I had fallen asleep right after I finished my meal. The next thing I knew, I heard gun shots, the gold was gone, and I had a bullet in my leg. They were aiming for George, but I guess they have terrible aim because they hit me and not him, who was on the other side of the tent. There was a searing pain in my leg and my blood was flooding onto the canvas flooring. Now, my leg has a tight bandage of cloth around it. Wow. We lost our gold, just like that.
-Ella
-Ella
Dear Journal,
Sitting in a tent with only specks of left over, shining yellow gold all day, is quite boring. Apparently, I’m ‘not allowed’ to leave. I’m. So. Bored! It’s also very depressing in here. Guess I’ll just have to deal with it. We’re once again planning to leave but I have a feeling something bad will happen again.
George is a genius! He buried his portions of the gold underneath the tent, so it turns out that the bandits only took my share. We still have gold! Sitting in this stupid tent all day for a week and a half was worth it even though I didn’t really do anything to get our gold back… Oh well! We once again split the gold, packed up, and left right then. The train ride was long and boring and my leg started to hurt. It was all worth it though. Even though I had been friends with George for almost six months now, I never truly knew why he was there. He told me that all his family was killed and he was left with nothing. I asked him to come back to San Francisco with me and he agreed.
-Ella
George is a genius! He buried his portions of the gold underneath the tent, so it turns out that the bandits only took my share. We still have gold! Sitting in this stupid tent all day for a week and a half was worth it even though I didn’t really do anything to get our gold back… Oh well! We once again split the gold, packed up, and left right then. The train ride was long and boring and my leg started to hurt. It was all worth it though. Even though I had been friends with George for almost six months now, I never truly knew why he was there. He told me that all his family was killed and he was left with nothing. I asked him to come back to San Francisco with me and he agreed.
-Ella
Epilogue
Two years have passed since I went to Alaska. There was a big, teary eyed reunion between me and my family. I introduced George to them and they all seemed to like him. The flower shop is open, my brother and my best friend had a beautiful wedding, and so did George and I. Yes, I married my best friend from that Yukon and now am a sister to my best friend from San Francisco. As it turns out, the people who shot me were my father’s killers. I guess I owe his business partner an apology. Speaking of me being shot, my leg healed fine…Well, after I got a serious infection and almost died. Yea, so it didn’t heal ‘fine’… Maybe slowly and painfully… Oh well! My life is back to normal and then some more. Oh! And I now have a new niece named Lily.
-Ella
-Ella
