To fly like a bird.

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This wasn't just the beginning; It was also the start of an end.

From an early age, I was aware of the fact that my mother was never really around. Instead, I had my Da, who loved me and nurtured me, and tried to stay with every second that was available to him. Unfortunately, the time he spent with me had its own  breaking point.

Myra was a maiden in our house, the one I trusted most after Da. From as far as I could remember, there were many other maidens working in Johann Manor, the building father had resurrected with his own hands. He used to tell me a lot of stories about hid childhood, the games he played and the stuff the bad things he went through.

Such horrible stuff that I couldn't sleep without trembling with fear. Thats when Myra saw me, and thats when she became a friend to me, someone who spoke her love by forbidding words and strict rules.

Maya told Da about it. I think that because a week or two later after I had told her about my sleeping episodes while remembering the horrid things happening to my daddy, I heard her confront him. And than it stopped, even though I was upset that he'd talk to me less now, and forget me completely. Leave me alone like Mama.

But I got the complete opposite of that. And what a joy I had! We went out one day in the carriage to Springfield Park, and dropped off at the entrance. As we walked he told me tales, just now not about how awful it was for him to live on those dirty streets without food and water but about his friends and work. I always listened, engrossed till the very end, until he pointed up at something.

My eyes would've been squinted, so high the bird flew. They soared through the clouds and cawed into the rushing air. Heroic and bold, they cared about none and made their own homes, did their own stuff, without the permission of their parents.

And also, pooped over pedestrians  without a second glance at their furious yelling, cackling once more into the ever open sky.

They did that, and they did so to catch my attention. And caught they did, from that very first pointed finger.

It was a brown dove, abundant in our city. I told Da so who shook his head with a smile, snug in his trench coat and barret. He crouched and pulled me to him, his eyes and mine following the circling birds.

"That's an eagle," I re-revise him saying, "They are very easy to spot darling, once you know what you're looking for. They're huge, very mighty and brown and white. Also, they soar in slow circles to search for food; doves don't do that."

"They won't-won't eat me right, Da?"

His warm chuckle is something that will never leave my memory, "They'll have to get through your daddy first."

That's when it started. The secret that only me and Da shared. Not even Myra. She'd start scolding him for being so inconsiderate and taking me into cold. Unlike others who I found infuriating even before I actually had a reasonable reason, I caught that Maya would scold me for getting a flu just as she'd scold Da for.

She geniunely cared, for me and for Da.

And that's how my early days passed. New people started building houses in the Springfield Street and old people went away. Even the maidens changed, many of who I remember either got married or found themselves more honourable jobs. It was a shame, really; nobody could be as noble as my Da.

My dad got me a tutor, Steven Baldwin, Mr.Baldy for short. He had sharp blue eyes so coarse and drier than the pretty ones me and Da shared and had bushy eyebrows that could surely get a good mow job. In the start, I threw tantrums to get away. I would paint my frock and throw the oil for the candles away, just to get far from the dusty books Mr.Baldy brought with him.

My Da got aware; he threatened to ban our trips to the park, or the cookies in the evening. Even Myra went over-board and told that she would tell everyone that I didn't shower daily.

Great. Now everyone was telling on me.

So I retorted, "The only prople I know are you and Da. Go ahead, jabber that to yourself in the mirror."

Ahem. That was the wrong move. I felt guilty for one thing. But for the bigger part, that gave Myra exactly the wrong idea to tell the right person.

See, I loved my life in the Manor house. I loved the foods that Myra made and I loved the stuff dad and I did in his free time.

So when they told me about my going away, I threw a tantrum bigger than any. I locked my room and didn't come out, but when Da made a decison, he stuck to it like strong glue. I had no choice.

It was only for two days and than against all my better wishes, I was in a carriage, on my way to a place some towns away. The whole way I kept up my sullen behaviour, and looked dully out the window. For Da to take such a wretched action... That was outspoken.

And Myra, that sweet maiden that bit like a sour candy with her talks about ridiculous manners and lady-like ettiquets, in someway she reminded me of my Ma. Ma who went smiling into the picture frame and never came back. She smilled her beatific  smile still as my tears splattered on the shiny glass.

That's how, on a lively morning where we should have been feasting on butter and eggs I was leaving behind my home, my family and my heart.

I breathed in long and hard, set my jaw and one last time looked back.

City of Brooks, I'll see you soon.

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