La Petite Etoile: Prolouge
Bonjor!
So, I have apart of my short story for you all. Feel free to edit and such.
My character's name is Gwynneth May Lebedev at this time. This is a preface to her life before she was adopted. Eh.
“I was born on a dark morning in late November; a night usually forgotten. Snow littered the ground outside the orphanage, staying still regardless of the freezing wind coming off from the adjacent sea. My mother sought refuge in the warm home of a seemingly kind woman who ran the establishment at the time. From what I have been told, my mother was a quiet woman, but no one of stature in society,” I said to Sarah. “Her eyes, like mine, were a light viridian. She was called Siobhan. I can’t remember anything about her, regardless of what my caregivers had told me when I was younger. From what the women at the orphanage told me, she must have had the child out of wedlock for she never told anyone who the father was,” I paused to swallow the tears. I wasn’t planning on spending my first day at my new life this way, crying under the blankets of my bed. I continued, “My mother died shortly after I was born- not that I cared all that much about her. All I cared about was her name and those familiar viridian eyes that were passed down to me. Call me heartless, but I was never raised by the woman who left me alone in the world.” Sarah stared at me. She had young eyes, much like mine. I could tell she was sorry she asked me about what happened to me before she arrived, but I hoped I helped her feel more at home in the only place that would take her in.
“I…I should…uh…go to sleep now,” said Sarah, her voice shaking with premature tears. Lifting the blankets over her head and leaving my bed, she climbed into her own to my right. “Good night,” she said, before finally turning away from me.
“Night,” I said quietly. My words still sat still in the air of the small room until finally the sky outside got darker, and quiet enough within the room for me to finally clear my head with sleep.
That was the last night I spent at the orphanage. From the time I was born, the place never felt like a home to me. Sure I was happy, but that didn’t account for the feeling in my heart that was something more to life than this. The orphanage was attached to a hospital in Morpeth; a small English hamlet off of the North Sea. It was a quiet village and a perfect place for a child. At times, the caregivers would walk us to the sea so we could play in the sand just like normal children. Those few times we went on outings were the highlights of my earlier years. I was there from the time I was born until I was the age of seven. By that time, the women in charge of my care decided it would be good for me to go to London. This, however, only happened after the Madame spent a summer in Morpeth and saw me playing on the beach.
Madame Lebedev was on a summer leave when she saw me for the first time. I was playing in the sand with the other children on the beach in late July when she approached me. She asked our escorts if we were all theirs- twelve children and three middle age women all together on the beach would cause anyone else to come to the same conclusion. But as the Madame came closer, she noticed how different we all were. Her voice was hard and thick with an accent I didn’t recognize. Her auburn hair was tied up in a tight bun atop her angular head. She towered over the other women like a swan among common geese. Her elegance was overwhelming- almost shining. Later that night, the Madame came to St. Rita’s Hospital, where I lived, and she inquired about the welfare of the children- specifically me and another child named Riley. Many of us held our breath outside the door of the Director’s office as we listened to the conversation within. Madame Lebedev wanted to adopt. All of us were ecstatic- no one ever comes in to adopt any of us. She left that same night with me, Riley, Lydia on the midnight train back to London.