𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛 [OLD/ORIGINAL]

Chapter One - Freedom

Running away is difficult, especially from an orphanage.

The window shards scattered across the wooden flooring and snow, accumulating with specks of blood and hair, while the inside had a slew, including scratch marks on the walls. The rest was clean, surprisingly. Her face was smashed against the snow, and she jumped to her feet swiftly, hearing the voices of others she lived with questioning the noise. The tiny sound of the door opening made it flinch, and it bolted away from the house. It chose to head to the clump of trees in the distance, despite not knowing where she was going. Their fingers twitched.

She could hear small yelling in the back as she ran faster past the falling snowman across from her (which made her hiss) and leaped over the metal fences, which almost made her twitch violently from the electrocution that touched her body, then she fell by the grassy snow.

Taffy stood up again, this time examining the bark of old trees with few green leaves on top, most of which were crushed up or completely black.

She cocked her head to the side and tried to grab one, then turned around and hid behind the large tree. She started rolling forward after a while, having heard the crows screech.

Nevertheless, they never seemed to be aware of the outside world.

There was nothing but white and blackness. A sliver of green could be seen, but the remainder was white due to the snow and black due to the trees. And there was a lot of gray in the sky that took up part of the site she was rushing to, in contrast to the cheerful blue she had seen outside the windows. It was strange to see, and quite she thrived on curiosity.

❄

Given how quickly she passed through, the forest was little to none.

At the very least, she was met by small animals such as squirrels (possibly infected with rabies) and rabbits (who are most likely immobile due to the grass). Thankfully, the cold didn't seem to affect her, and her feet were already becoming numb, so the stroll took just about five or ten minutes before her foot stubbed into a slate-colored metal bottom rail. Reacting with a pained hiss before glancing up to see a massive, black gate dotted with snow and ice. The top half had a rough crumble, the dark blue post had minor scratches, one of the spears had been chipped off, and the post cap on the left was on the ground as if it had been wrenched off by someone with considerable strength.

Fortunately, the hinges were not squeaky. The locks had not been tampered with.

Taffy slipped down straight to the locking latches, tugging it like a plant, her sharp fingertips grazing gently over the central part, the cold metal making her tremble slightly. But nothing worked, so she slammed her head against the baluster. A little bump was left on the side.

She tried kicking it, but it didn't work. She tried biting it, but it didn't work. It wouldn't budge even when they punched it. Useless.

...

It made her back away while massaging her palm as the two panels began to spread, stopping midway till a violent wind of snow struck her face(?). Taffy's head was powdered when she fell to the ground.

She got up a mere second later, staring intently at the gates that had suddenly opened without her kicks or hits. How? Nevertheless she shook it off and moved into the massive mounds, shielding the air with her arms. The wind was stronger than it had been back when she was at home. Everything seemed so light and pleasant, perhaps natural. This was a tense and miserable atmosphere.

It's safe to say that it was quite somber.

❄

After a few treks, the air no longer screamed for more. There were only a few trees, maybe four or six, that were sharp and coated, chipped and wounded. The path was mostly buried in snow, with only the edge of the houses discernible, which looked like they'd been through hell. The ceilings were gray with splashed paint, the walls were wooden and cut (and dark), and the stairwells had tracks of a mysterious black fluid mingled with blood. The air had fogged up the windows.