1787- the story of a revolution

- chapter one -

1787. December 1787. I am walking down the street like I did so many times. Walking in the shadow, walking on my own. Nobody should see me. The little homeless orphan I am. 

A sad smile runs over my cold face while I rub my hands. These hands. They have stolen so many wallets, made so many things. Helped me to survive one day after another. My head turns to the sky. The dark sky with the dark clouds which are so gracefully flying over Paris. 

Graceful and dangerous they seem, just like a warning nobody seems to accept. My eyes continue their way. They are noticing every little shiny star in between the clouds. They are wandering down. Noticing the old house to my left. The old pavement I'm walking on. The little stones and the dark, smelly liquid in the gutter. My broken shoes, the holes with my dirty toes in it. My torn skirt.

A shiver runs down my spine. My knees are shaking, like my calves and just like my entire body. How many days haven't I eaten anything? Three days, maybe four. At some point, I just lost track out of time.

I wrap my arms around myself, well, there isn't much to wrap left. I am continuing my way down the cold empty street with all of its buildings, the grey houses who all seem to be empty that late in the night. Rare brightened windows. There are probably living happy people in it, their biggest worry is probably that they don't know which colour to wear tomorrow.

My freezing feet take one step. Then another. Slowly and painful. Even if I have walked this way so many times my feet seem to memorize them by themselves, something is different. It is this feeling of warning. The dark prophecy from the clouds nobody cares about. Suddenly I see a move in the dark, a big silhouette rushing by. It's a man.

Maybe he has finished work late today and is now in a hurry to see his wife and children. They are waiting for him in the warm living room, where the fire is burning, the wife is sitting in a chair and knitting a pair of socks for her youngest. A tiny baby she just sang to sleep with a lovely lullaby. Her eyes will brighten up when she sees her husband after such a long day.

Again, I smile to myself when the man suddenly bumps into me. "Ex-excuse me monsieur, I'm so sorry..." I whisper. My throat aches more with every word.

I am not able to talk any louder. I don't have the strength.

He is stopping. He slowly turns around and I am becoming sick from the disgust in his eyes. This dark, poisonous shimmer in the deep of his dark Iris. He is just standing there, staring at me while a little snowflake lands on a strand of his wavy hair. 

So it is beginning to snow again. Snow, what seems so beautiful at first. But it taught me real pain. Pain and fear.  I look away and slowly turn around to continue my way. One shaking footstep after another like I did the whole day until I will find a place where I am able to sleep. Curled up like a kitten, escaping this cruel world for a few hours, until I wake up and feel all the pain again. I am aware that I have to do the thing I hate the most. I will have to steal food to survive.

Suddenly I stand still. I can't walk anymore. Can't live anymore. What changed my mind at that moment? I don't know. Maybe it was the Snowflakes, little pieces of death falling down the dark night sky. The most beautiful death.

My body has given up itself. My numb fingers are feeling a wall on my back. The bricks feel rough. I am leaning on this cold rough brick wall and I am aware that I won't survive any longer.

I hear the silence and I close my eyes. Not aware of what will happen next. I sink down. Let myself down on the snow, covering the stones, fixing up the holes in the streets and shimmering in the pale moonlight on the pavement, welcoming me with its familiar cold.