our crying song

the orphanage

9am sharp. The doors of the centre room were open. Usually, we would all stay in our own rooms but when it was time for adoption. Our madam hurried us along so we could get to the room before the people could. She cleaned our faces and gave us pieces of bread to eat. The younger girls were confused as she tied a name tag on everyone's rucksack. But instead of retaliating, they let her nails deepen into their innocent skin.

 I knew why she did this however staying quiet would show these girls that someone does care for us; some do worry for us; we are not yet forgotten. A droplet of sweat broke on my madams face but she was quick to wipe it off. this is not the first time. knowing this angered me as last time, only Alayna (my sister) was chosen.

I remembered that day. When Alayna, like these children had a mask of confusion as our madam began to pamper her. Alayna had stood next to, hand combing my stiff black hair. To be honest, I do not know why she had bothered, I was almost certain that no one would pick us. Then there was silence.

 Our madam finished dressing the girl and stood up straight. We were in orderly roads our feet balanced on the hard timeworn concrete floor. Our feet pointed towards the door and our head followed the position of our feet. The buyers had come. They were old and frail. Tired and weak but they held the same power of a young king. Even so, the older girls would refer to them as God. This was because ever since our fate failed us and we were left in this deserted orphanage, these buyers would decide whether we can have a giving future. That is if we were chosen by them.

The doors had opened , a bright light had shone blinding any being standing in front of it. The orphanage that was once covered with a coat of darkness, had coloured itself with bright white and yellow along with all of us.