The Forgotten Daughter of Black

Chapter 1. The New Arrival.

1981, London, Shaffer Orphanage

"Aahhhhhh!!"

A toddler's wail echos obnoxiously loud off the brick walls of one of the many streets of London, Britain. A woman, tall and slender, blonde wears an ugly scowl tight on her thin slips with a dark haze that swirls ill intentions within pale pools of blue and alarmingly white chalk skin decorated with heavy dark bags, a light brown coat hugs her over a green dress and accompanied with a pair of charming black heels. A dirty white woolly blanket is bunched up in her arms, shielding the inhabitant inside from the cold that bites at her mother's face and hands persistently. small, chubby hands grip at the cloth wrapped tightly around herself, light eyes squeezing shut as her lips part to once again let out a displeased cry whilst kicking her feet hard in protest. An owl ruffles out old dead feathers off his chest from atop a low wall surrounding a big house, his large yellow eyes planted on the woman in mistrust. Two story, vines climbing its walls, a cracked window with cobwebs covering along its sides, the house itself was old and falling apart slowly with age and little care. The woman's small hand creeps out and pushes at the gate that gives out a short screech, the infant throwing her tantrum grows louder due to fright at the abrupt sound, her mother heaves an unimpressed sign and steps hurriedly to complete her goal wanting away from the screaming girl not later, but right now.

Wrapping her long fingers around the dust covered and rusting knocker, she gives it a sharp tug and taps the door smartly three times, before a fourth and fifth and si-

"Yes! Okay, I'm coming!" A voice shouts from inside, heels slapping the ground as the owner races for the door.

The blonde woman grows impatient fast, tapping her foot repeatedly even as the door is unlocked and tugged open by a plump, round woman in her forties wearing a brown striped dress matched with an apron and a grey ribbon holding brown with lots of graying hair strands heaped on top her head forming a tight messy bun. She looks her up and down with disinterest, eyes flickering down to her jay blue heals, to her dust covered hands, her wrinkled tired face and finally to her mud brown stockings. She was not at all impressed.

The older woman catches her breath as she speaks "How may i insist you, ma'am?". The woman gives a satisfied grin, not at all welcoming, seemingly entertained by the older woman knowing her place.

"I don't want her" are the first words that leaves her thin lips, no beating around the bush, no small talk and no talk of the weather. The brown- and gray-haired woman looks down to peer at the rosy pink face among the woolly cloth, smiling politely as she pulls the door open more and invites the woman in from the cold. "The Headmistress will see you, right this way, please". She offers no thanks, stepping past the threshold and is relieved by the instant warmth that presses to her skin and clothes, glad to be out of the freezing cold and inside. The graying haired woman, the staff, is quick to close the door and locks it, stepping forward and leading the woman upstairs, down a hall and another, coming to a stop outside an auburn brown door with a shiny silver handle, and knocks. A muffled voice answers, giving permission to enter the room and twisting the handle, she pushes it open lightly and carefully, allowing the woman with her babe to enter first before following herself and shutting it behind her. It was a rather nice office, a red shade covering its walls, not a speck of dust insight, a desk is set in the middle of the room and across from it lay two cushioned gray chairs with no wrinkles or string hanging out, a more shiny silver one faces towards the two with an unpleasant looking woman sat straight as if she had a long ruler stuck to her back forcing her to always sit up. White beaded spectacles rest on her pointy nose, her red lips set permanently into a frown with no tooth on show, seemingly unnaturally bright green eyes take in the two, long spider fingers with just as green tips are folded neatly in front of her in a too professional manner. The blonde woman takes her in in return, the two sizing each other up, her with her blonde locks curling above her hips adding to her attractive figure and the Headmistress with her shiny black hair stooping to her chin, thin and bony curves. The staff brings one of the two gray chairs away from the desk, pushing it in as the woman sits, before taking her leave with a well-practiced "Ma'am".