Prolouge

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(NOT EDITED)

The rain beat down on the small shed. It had been going on for hours and showed no signs of stopping. Instead, it seemed to grow louder by the minute. Lightning ripped through the sky, and the little girl shivered.

In the shed lay a young girl. Her large bright blue eyes stared out into the night, watching the rain pour onto her home, or at least what was left of it. The rain had wiped away the flames, but the damage had already been done. Her house, was as good as ruins.

She remembered how only hours before, her mother had woken her up from a long restful sleep, and forgotten to put out the candle the rested on the side of the girl's bed. The girl, not knowing it was there, knocked at over, causing it to crash on the ground. The flames caught the floor and her mother cried.

"Run!" her mother screamed. The frightened girl did as she was told and raced onto of the house and into the shed. She only remembered her son's, as she watched the flames burn her home to ash until the rain began pouring.

The girl wiped away her tears with one hand, only to hear the sounds of horse hooves coming slowly from a distance. Soon, she saw a man, maybe in his late twenties rode of a black stallion. His already present frown deepened when he saw the young girl peering out of the shed.

"What happened?" the man asked as he stepped down from his horse with one swift motion. The girl stayed in the shed. "It's alright," he whispered softly. "Come on out; I won't hurt you." The girl stepped out slowly. "Who are you, young girl?"

"Beatrice, sir," she answered.

"I'm Robert Freeman," the man smiled. "Are you alright?"

Beatrice began to cry. "No, Mr Freeman" she whispered through tears. "Mother, Father, and all of my siblings are gone."

Mr Freeman sighed. "I'm sorry, Beatrice, but you have to think of yourself now. You can stay with me as long as you help clean up around the house and such, if you would care to join me." He held out his hand. Beatrice stared at his hand for a long moment, before looking back to the ruins of her home, but took it.

Beatrice Where stories live. Discover now