Shadowed Dreams (Winner Of #StormsShortStories) √

c h a p t e r o n e

Marie follows me down the stairs, her slippers muffling her steps. At four years old, I pity her for being dumped in this orphanage, of all of the other possible ones. Nobody ever comes here. I was brought here when I was two, and have no memories of my parents. Now I'm fifteen years old, and nobody's ever come to visit.

I'm giving little Marie a tour of the building, which is really an old shack named Forrest Hall. The stairs creak under my ratty old sneakers as I lead her to the dining hall. Down the shadowed hallway and into the room, which is the largest one in the institute. I softly close the door behind us.

"Okay, Marie, this is where we eat our meals three times a day. It's almost dinner time, so you might as well wash your hands now." I point her over to a cracked old sink in the far corner, and she climbs up onto the old refrigerator box in front of it in order to reach. She's so small, and without parents, without anyone to love her.

I take a seat at one of the tables in an old metal chair, as I don't have kitchen duty tonight. They always make the children do it, and then the dishes afterwards. It seems like the children are the ones who run this place, really. The adults are only here to supervise.

I pull a piece of charcoal and a napkin out of the pocket of my sweatpants. I found the charcoal on the ground out in the yard during exercise time, and immediately pocketed it to use later. Now that Marie and I are the only ones in the dining hall, I figure now is the best time.

I've always dreamed of being an artist, but drawing, painting, writing, or anything creative is forbidden at Forrest. They think that it'll give us ideas of the outside world, make us want so badly what we know we can't have until someone adopts us.

I put the charcoal on the napkin and begin to draw. The napkin is flimsy and thin, and tears when I press too hard. But it's the only paper I could come across, so I'll have to make do. I draw a flower, a rose, and it starts as a small bud which grows to become a flower, a small bud of hope that turns into a flower of truth. When I finish, I place the napkin back in my pocket, wiping all traces of the charcoal off of my fingers and onto my sweatpants.

People start to file in, and Marie makes her way over to me. Ever since Mistress Sylvia, the woman who runs the institute, ordered me to show her around, the young girl has seen me as an idol. I don't know why anyone would ever want to be like me, though. I have nothing but dreams.

Michael Jameson comes over to our table as I'm helping little Marie into the chair beside me. Michael, also fifteen, slides into the other seat next to me. "Hey, Jennifer," he says in a soft voice, which is unusual for him. Michael is the most optimistic person at this place, and always as hope that he'll be adopted someday.

"Hey, Mike," I say, looking up at him. "Is something wrong?" But his face doesn't look sad, and he shakes his head, so I glance back at Marie. Her childish cheerfulness hasn't worn off of her face yet since she got here, so there might be hope yet.

Jean Opal takes the seat across from me, so our table is filled. Jean has been my friend since I got here, a year after she did. She's sixteen, and was my role model at first. I'll try my best to be Marie's Jean. Michael came along two years later, when he was four. His parents both died in a car crash, they didn't want to get rid of him. Mike is the most loved person at Forrest, as well.

"Dinner!" one of the adults supervising yells, and we get up and head over to the small wooden bar where to food is served to us each day. I take a plastic tray then hand one to Marie, who followed close behind me. Portions of chicken and broccoli are placed on the trays, and we each get a small helping of pudding. To their credit, the pudding is delicious, and is my favorite part of each meal. But when I see Marie's face fall when she looks at her food, I spoon my helping onto her tray and, a guiding hand on her back, lead her back over to our table.

Later, after dinner is done, Michael goes to the boy's wing of the orphanage while Jean and I lead Marie back to the girl's. Usually, the bunks are divided by age, but for the first few night, Marie is allowed to sleep with us. As she curls into the bed across me and Jean already snores across the room, I unfold my rose drawing from my pocket and slide it into my pillowcase where I keep the others, a small reminder to me to always have hope.

___

First chapter! What do you think? The prompt was given to me by Stormgaming747 for her writing contest, so I hope it's good and that you enjoyed! I will keep continuing to update! Thanks!