On the last day of February, my mother killed both my parents. The clouds fell to a deafening sound, covering whatever light left in Paris, as a new-born orphan crept deeper into the darkness. My feet grew sore as my arm wailed from pulling my belongings. "how long have I been walking?" "where am i?" these were questions I didn't have the luxury of answering.
A ray of light washed up on the concrete slabs in the distance, marking out a spot in the ocean of black that surrounded me.
My feet cooperated with me a little longer, before failing on the lit up concrete. My fingers were wrinkled and restless, dancing to the clattering sound of my teeth as my body curled up on the ground, mirroring the lifeless manner of my luggage laying beside me.
Grateful for the loud thumping of my heart, distracting me from my thoughts, my mind grew hazy as my senses faded, dimming the pour of the clouds, quieter and quieter... as the blinds of my eyes closed shut.
... "she's walking up",a young man whispers to his sister, as she rushes over to the body laying on a bench behind a café counter. "bonjour, can you hear me miss?", she inquired with a voice at war with itself, failing to conceal the growing distress in her.
My eyes peeled open, as my gaze fell on a middle aged woman crouched beside me. "where... Where am i?" I managed to ask. "you're at my café" she replied, releasing a gust of relief.
"are you alright?" she asked, a smile stretched across my face to suggest I was, but my eyes gushed out in defiance. "you poor thing" she said as she pulled me into her embrace. Not having the energy or will to resist, I sat in her arms as I let out whatever emotions I had left for the last day of February 1972.
YOU ARE READING
Twinkle
FantasyThrust into a mysterious world, will she discover the secrets it holds and her family's place in it all?
