M.E Is Not Me

From Present to Past

Upon a snow covered hillside in the bitter night’s air of Moscow, Russia, lay a petite village clinging to the outskirts. The area was now a haven for families as the small houses stood opposite from one another. All of them were identical except for the one establishment, it had a great stance at the top of the frozen amiss as it’s light flooded out energising the contrasting moonlit night and the fog covered air.

Inside this small, yet majestic house lived an elderly woman by the name of Alissia Alexandrov, the old woman paced through the house steadily as she clung to the oak doorknob revealing the warm, eccentric lounge which lay before her. Eccentric was an understatement for this house as a cosy room with a log burning fire, roaring through the cold night, revealed her life’s work in art as no space was shown throughout the entire room. Upon the walls hung numerous canvases trailing right down to the wood skirting board. Even the ceiling had artwork on it as planets, stars and supernatural beings had been exquisitely painted by Alissia herself.  

She caught a glimpse of herself in a long full length mirror, about the only item on the walls that wasn’t a painting. She smiled as she studied her appearance. She had long, free flowing grey curls which flowed naturally down to her frail hips and wore a tie dye dress evoke with colour so she suited the home she lived in. Accessories were in plentiful supply as numerous bracelets covered both arms and complimented the intricate henna tattoos which weaved up to her shoulders. Her ankles above her bare feet were also covered in bracelets and the beading on them jiggled slightly as she moved further into the room.

She turned her head to look at the three people lounged on the moth eaten blanket covered sofas, an old couple lay cuddled up by the fire sleeping soundly on one another. And another man, also elderly was engrossed so deeply into a book that a prominent line appeared between his two eyebrows. Alissia chuckled at him lovingly and turned towards the stairs, climbing each one cautiously as she finally reached the door to her bedroom.

Of course the room was just as artist as the lounge, but a paler scheme had been used as duck egg blues, pale pinks and lavender colours swept the room in a graceful fashion. She sighed as she moved towards the wooden double bed, but just as she was about to climb in it her foot kicked something solid underneath it. Curiously she crouched down slowly and pulled out a large trunk like suitcase with the word Alexandrov written across it in Russian letters, she seemed amazed as she began to reminisce times of her youth. As she opened it many objects were inside, but the one that stood out most was a letter which took her back to the day she first found out…

In a bleak area on the outskirts of Moscow, Russia lay a foggy village which was somewhat of an outsider to the rest of the city. The area was strongly known for its poverty and its less than reputable individuals. Rows of shabby houses opposite each other were an eyesore in contrast to the beauty of central Moscow and a once majestic house stood at the foot of hill it was upon. Inside the house in a cramped kitchen stood Egor Alexandrov making breakfast absent-mindedly, the old man was deep in thought as his sad eyes seemed to have no life in them what to ever. Worry lines scared his once handsome face as his grey hair fell loosely to his shoulders. Suddenly a loud noise came from the letter box opening with the morning post, sighing he turned off the heat as he paced to the door finding a single letter on the Aztec door mat. He brought it to his eyes squinting as his shaky hands opened the letter to read it. His milky blue eyes moved slowly at first but then the pace in the quickened as a rush of both shock and happiness came into them “She’s… She replied!” he exclaimed to himself as a smile appeared across his face. A few worry lines seemed to vanish. Footsteps could suddenly be heard from upstairs so he darted with the letter, placing behind the log burning fire in order to hide it. “Morning Grandpa!” a voice called as a young Alissia Alexandrov bounced down the stairs. Her long brown hair flowed down in bushy, raggy curls. She was dressed in a tie dye t-shirt and combat trousers (both donated clothes from the richer areas) they hung above her ankles showing off the matching bracelets she had made on both her ankles and wrists. She rushed over to Egor giving him a huge hug, despite feeling unusually tired even though she had had over ten hours sleep, it was a little confusing, she had recently gotten over two bad cases of tonsillitis, but yet.. She didn’t really feel that much better. She assumed it was nothing as her and her Grandpa sat down at the small table and tucked into the omelettes he had made. Egor began to get nervous as he thought to himself “How shall I tell her?” he decided to go for broke and opened his mouth to speak when  there was a sudden knock on the door. “That’ll be Katrina!” Alissia yelled with a mouthful of omelette as she opened the door dramatically “Sup A” came a voice behind a voice behind her hair.

Katrina Belitrov couldn’t be more opposite of Alissia; she had a gothic appearance dressed in a mish-mash of ripped black clothing. She had matching the layered jet black hair which was shocking next to her pale skin. She also  wore heavy eyeliner and had a range of piercings which she had done herself. The only other colour on her was the odd splash of red from the friendship bracelets Alissia had made her and the laces in her knee high converse (a rarity in clothing donated by the richer areas). Katrina came into the house, joining the two relatives for breakfast as Alissia gave her half of her omelette. Two girls chatted and laughed away, discussing their love of art which was about the only thing they had in common. It was an unlikely friendship, but it worked somehow. Normally Egor would have been joining in the conversation since he himself was an artist and he’d had painted most of the masterpieces on the walls but the old man was still thinking about how to tell his beloved granddaughter the news, eventually the conversation stopped when both girls looked up at him “What’s a matter Grandpa?” Alissia asked “It’s.. it’s your mother..” He stammered “She want you to go and live with her.. In England”.   

Author's note- Thankyou to anybody who has read my first chapter!! I'll be posting the next part asap for anyone interested