Harsh winds tore through the cobble streets, the full moon shining brightly against the dark skies. Through the empty roads, the silhouette of a man walking could be seen, his visage clearer in the pavement lights. Bright blonde hair, a contrast against the black shadows casted on the walls.
With long purposeful strides the man walked carefully, his arms holding a small bundle of wrapped blankets and a small fur coat. Before long the figure stood in front of a dreary building, the sign "St Angela's Orphanage" looked more terrifying than welcoming.
The man stopped by the front door, a calloused hand carefully lifting the fur hood covering soft tufts of midnight hair, porcelain chubby cheeks turned pink in the cold and eyes clenched further as the baby burrowed into his warmth. A small hand was curled into a fist while the other was gripping tightly to a pendant hanging by the infant's neck. The bottle-cap sized orange orb shone briefly in the lights before shadows covered it once more.
The man gently stroked the infant's cheek before pressing a kiss on it's forehead. "Goodbye, little princess." He murmured softly.
Straightening up, he knocked firmly on the door.
A moment later, the door clicked open and out came a middle aged woman with several strands of bright silver hair.
"What is it you want?" She questioned grumpily, her eyes bleary and set in a glare.
The man simply held out the infant in his arms. The woman's eyes soften at the child and hurriedly cradled the infant herself, tucking in the blanket securely around the child.
"Is the baby named?" She asked, choosing to ignore how the man came into possession of the child.
"Yes, her name is Anastasia. All I ask is that all her belongings today will remain her belongings until the future." He stated, more than asked.
The woman simply nodded her head sharply, "Of course, any of a child's personal belongings will remain theirs unless it was bought by the orphanage."
The man gave a short inclination of his head before he disappeared into the night. Leaving his most precious possession in another's hands hoping that one day he will be forgiven for this.
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The sound of children squealing and hurried footsteps could be heard through the front doors. It was one of the only days where everybody would be bustling about.
"Adoption Day"
Children were wrestled into their best clothing had scrubbed down to perfection, if only for a few moments. The laughter and screams had immediately stopped at the sound of the large doors creaking open.
"Ah welcome, Mr Millefiore, welcome to St Angela's Orphanage."
A tall man stood by the door, his jet black hair was slicked back neatly and his suit was pressed neatly. A blonde woman stood by his side, her white gown shining much like her diamond jewelry even through the orphanages dim light. Behind her stood a young child with messy windswept black hair, he was dressed neatly as well, in black slacks and a green button-up shirt.
The family practically screamed rich, causing many of the children to glare with jealously at the child behind the woman.
"Yes I'm sure it is, Mrs...?"
The matron gave the family a simpering smile. "Cole, Mr Millefiore. Patricia Cole"
The man gave her an unimpressed look as he hummed softly under his breath. "Of course it is, Mrs Cole."
YOU ARE READING
The Arcobaleno
Teen FictionAnastasia never lived the easy life, orphaned from birth all she has left of her original family was her pendant but life never seemed to make it easy for her. In a prejudice and magic-filled world she has to blaze her own path and learn to distingu...
