Post by Synnøve Nevalainen on Sept 21, 2008 9:42:38 GMT -5
Les Innocents
France
Le 21 décembre, 1789
The village was cold and dark—a gripping, consuming dark which covered the land like a cloak. Chill winds blew dark clouds across the moon, it’s only image an eerie greenish orb glowing behind an otherworldly fog. Worlds away, back in the village, a young girl sat alone. She could not have been more than seven years old, her tawny brown hair matted and her clothes in tatters. Dark, liquid eyes peered out from a dirty, tear streaked face. That was the only part of her that seemed to still live—her eyes. The rest of her body was sickly thin, with dirty, sun tanned skin stretched over bone. The doe-eyed girl’s body suddenly convulsed with into a hacking cough; a force seeming to be too strong for the little girl’s frail frame. And it was.
Ill and afraid, the child curled up in the narrow alleyway in which she had been sitting. It was there, with her back pressed up against wall, laying in darkness and filth that the little girl’s breathing began to slow. She didn’t have to fear the dark anymore. With a shallow sigh, it stopped.
She had no name, no home, no family. There was no witness to her death, sans the stars in the heavens above. And most of all, there would be neither stone nor monument to mark her grave. Her fate was to be tossed into the ground with the rest of the orphans, the poor, the foreigners, more alone in life than in death.
N.Y.C
July 5th, 2007
{Coming soon}
[This is the begining of the short story I'm writing for English^^ I'ma add more as I finnish writing each section >.> Any feedback you care to give would be greatly appreciated^^]
