Chapter One

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All Rights Reserved © 2012 Emmy Alexander

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means (including photocopying, recording, or information storage and retrieval) without permission in writing from the writer.

***AUTHOR'S NOTE*** This story is in dire need of editing. If you can overlook the errors (until editing) then happy reading.:)


London, England

December 1813

Twilight had fallen yet the beauty of the subtle, diffused sky went unnoticed for it revealed the ominous stretch of darkness with its betraying shadows concealing predators of intended violence and misfortune. These blackened streets of London were the foreboding domain for society's most corrupt and bloodthirsty criminals. The inclement weather was as disagreeable as the morbid region. It was the period of decay with a bitter cold that enveloped the body in a frigid shroud, sinking deep to the bone, bringing forth a state of numbness.

A small, distinct shadow cautiously made its way through the desolate streets that would be teeming with life on the morrow. Hovering deep into the ragged overcoat that swallowed the child's tiny frame, beneath it was a tunic consisting of various holes and rips; torn trousers that barely provided any warmth against the arctic bite of winter.

Ginelle Hayes fled to the shadows, seeking concealment that would provide obscurity against imposing threats. Her fears heightened, she could smell stale fear in the air and hear the frantic beat of her heart, its rhythm like a persistent drum in her ears. Her body trembled violently, seeking what warmth her dilapidated attire could offer.

She stiffened as a deep rumble surfaced from her empty stomach. She closed her eyes against a sudden wave of vertigo. The thought of a hot meal sent her senses reeling. Her body screamed for nourishment, anything to appease her ravenous hunger and fill that deep hollowness in her belly. The sheer lack of strength rendered her weak and prone to illness. She couldn't remember the last time she had tasted a bountiful meal. It had been nearly a sennight since she had escaped Pierino, her supposed guardian.

Continuously, his burly fists and unstable temperament had reminded her of her unworthiness. Her body still bore the marks of his rage and drunkenness as she unknowingly pressed a small hand against the bruise that darkened the underside of her jaw. She resisted tears as she slipped into a dark alley, her boots moving swiftly over the roughened, damp cobblestone slick with ice.

She settled into a dark corner, sinking to the ground in defeat as she was overcome with tears and a heart-wrenching sorrow.

She was an impoverished child; alone in a dark and merciful world with no one to love or be loved. She was forced to live on the bleak and forsaken streets of London. She felt a swift tightening in her chest at the memory of her father, her dear sweet father; a blacksmith who had worked tirelessly into the night. Her hands reached to the silver locket around her neck and gripped the chain with shaky fingers. The locket had belonged to her mother, who had died while giving birth to her only child.

Ginelle curled into a ball as a horrific image emerged. She had found her father collapsed on the floor, clutching at his chest as though his stiffened fingers sought his pained heart. She had been too little to fathom the horror of the situation and the depth of her father's agony and grief of losing his beloved that it eventually led to taking his own life. How could she have not known the weight of his sorrow? How could she have not noticed the signs of his pain, pain so severe that he would end his own life and abandon her, his only child? Had he not loved her enough to live life with her? The grotesque image would forever plague her mind; taint her dreams.

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