Prisoner Of The Storm (CANCELLED check my works for current version!!!)

Prologue

Prologue

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It was raining again, always was.

        I guess I should introduce myself before I continue. My name is Isabella Monroe, but anyone who knew me called me Stormy ‘cause of my eyes. Since I was born I’ve had grey eyes that look cloudy. It was only fitting to have them where I lived.

        Where, you may be thinking, is this place I’m talking about. Well, where I lived is what once was New York. There wasn’t really a name for it, people inside the wall started calling it ‘The Rainstorm.’ Since it was always raining. Real clever, right?

        It’s probably not what you’re thinking though. It wasn’t all gloomy and gross and depressing. It really wasn’t, at least not to the people who were completely oblivious…which was everyone. People loved living there. Umbrellas became huge fashion objects and bright colors were very ‘in’. Everyone loved it. Everyone was happy.

        You know, except me. I’d never seen the stars or the sun, but that’s only part of it. I had made a promise once…it feels like a lifetime ago when I said it. I promised that I would get out. It took me a long time to get out of The Wall that had encircled the city. It kept us imprisoned. That wasn’t how people saw it though, what they saw was protection and safety….from what, I didn’t know. No one knew when The Wall was built, and the ones who did were six feet under. Everyone was happy and there were no questions about anything. I just never understood them, even when I was little.

        You could say I was pretty odd compared to the rest of them. The dark color in a sea of brightness. They never did figure out what was wrong with me, but that’s mostly because I never told them the truth. The doctors had always said I was just a little different because I was an orphan. Also, apparently your personality can change when you see your parents die in a fiery explosion. Who knew?

        Anyways, it wasn’t really normal to be and orphan that long. Nine years, I was eight when I got to my first foster home. I was still eight when I got to my second foster home. Turned out no one wanted a kid who was the only survivor of the biggest explosion to happen in a hundred years. I only had one more month though. Until I turned eighteen and could go wherever I want, well, inside the city. That’s only what I thought, things change.

        I’m going to tell you a story now. A story about a brave girl who walked her invisible army through darkness and was no longer a Prisoner of The Storm.