/ phantom /
a figment of the imagination
"She was like a dark wave crashing upon the bright shores of his horizon."
Anne Wheeler. An outcast. A loner. A street orphan. A disregarded, disgraced child born out of wedlock. A broken girl waiting for a s...
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A heart-wrenching sob escaped her dry, cracked lips. Silent sobs wracked her thin, brawny shoulders. A terrible pain pounded through her chest. One thought rang over and over in her mind.
Please. Not Oma. Oh dear God. Not Oma.
The magical moment of the theatre had long-since disappeared from her distressed mind. Wrapping her shawl tightly around her shoulders and shaking the dark curls from the bun pinned to the top of her head, Anne turned heel and fled into the growing darkness suffocating the outside of the auditorium.
As she made her way through the tall, ivory gates leading into the fresh, green grounds of the building's estate, Anne caught a glimpse of Bec's slumped figure as he disappeared into the dusky night.
"Wait! Max! Hold up!"
At the sound of her brother's shrill cry, Anne stumbled to a confused halt and turned around to see him hailing a horse and cart that had just pulled around the corner.
"Come on, Anne!" he urged as he waved her over. "Let's go!" Upon seeing the expression of hesitant doubt on her face, he assured her, "Max worked with me at the smith's. He's my friend. He'll take us to the hospital."
Blinking back the tears that were burning her red-rimmed eyes, Anne silently nodded and complied.
In reality it was only a few moments before they arrived but, to Anne, it felt like hours - long, agonising hours.
God. Please. Spare her. I need her. I need my Oma, she inwardly begged, tears streaming down her wet, puffy cheeks. Please.
The cart careened to one side as it pulled onto the cracked pavement that led the way down the street to the large, white-coated hospital and jerked to a stop.
Without waiting for any assistance, Anne clambered over the wheel of the cart and jumped to the ground.
"Anne! Wait!" W.D shouted after her.
Anne paid him no heed, however, and proceeded to plunge, head-first, into the swarm of people and horses and carriages and stretchers piled around the double-glass doors of the huge building.
"Oma! Oma!" she screamed as she scrambled desperately for one, small sliver of light. "Oma!"
Turning this way and that, Anne gasped and heaved for air as her brown orbs bounced over the grime-streaked faces of the street orphans, the pale, weary ones of their mothers, the wrinkled, down-trodden ones of their fathers - their despairing, hopeless faces, their desperate, pleading faces, their tearful, grief-stricken faces.
"Anne! Over here!" W.D's shout roused her from her reverie and she spun around to see her brother frantically waving to her through the crowd.
A wave of determination crashed over her and with the last of her strength, she shoved her way through the flow of bodies in her way before finally stumbling out into the open.
