Here's chapter 1! I really hope you all like it! And could you pretty please tell people about me and this story? I would greatly appreciate it! Thanks guys! (: - LongLiveMusic17
P.S. The chapters are going to be REALLY LONG!! (:
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13th July 1910, London
"My darling Sarelle, promise to behave for Shannon. No bedtime antics, ok?" My mother was bent in front of me with her silvery blonde hair piled upon her head. It was in the latest fashion of intricate curls with delicate wisps tickling around the edge of her face. She was, to me, the most beautiful woman in the world, and I was filled with pride that she was my mother.
I bent my head, and she stroked her hands through my hair before placing a motherly kiss upon the top of my head. I looked up, beaming as our eyes locked, and her pastel green eyes softened with maternal affection. The expression on her face showed her excitement of the coming journey and event.
My nanny, Shannon, was to care for me while my parents travelled to Southend-on-Sea to attend a Navy ball.
It wasn't the first time I had been left with the nanny. My parents often left town for fancy social events, so this routine of saying goodbyes in the hallway was well rehearsed. I kept a quiet smile on my lips to hide the discomfort I felt whenever I watched my mother and father walk through the door, leaving me behind.
My mother stepped away and talked to Shannon whilst my father came and swooped me up in his arms. Our laughter tinkled through the hallway as he tickled my sides and swung me round through the air.
"Now my little Sarelle, you be a good girl, and don't go having too many adventures without me." He winked and placed a firm kiss on my cheek before placing me back down on the wooden floor.
"I love you, Father."
"I love you too, Sarelle. But we'll be back before you know it. Remember, don't..."
"... Waste time because you can't get it back." I finished. His warm brown eyes twinkled, and the golden fire in them shone brightly with his pride. I was his little girl, and every moment we spent together was saturated with his love of his family.
"Always remember my sweet little girl:
'Time is free, but it's priceless.
You can't own it, but you can use it.
You can't keep it, but you can spend it.
Once you've lost it you can never get it back.'"
His eyes glimmered, and the gold sparkled more than usual. He loved that quote and had repeated it to me several times as I grew up. He had always taught me to never regret anything I do because otherwise it would just be wasted time.
I smiled warmly at him and gave him a tight hug as I replied, "I'll never forget, Father."
He stroked my cheek, and I stepped away back to the banister on the stairs. I watched him as he turned to my mother and impatiently ran a hand through his dark brown wavy hair.
"Lily, we really must be leaving if we are to get there before dark."
My mother hurriedly finished her instructions to Shannon and spun to hold my father's hand as they made their way out to the carriage.
"Honestly, Adam, it's only now twelve o'clock, and Southend-on-Sea is only a three hour carriage journey. We have plenty of time."
Her vivid red dress was cut to create the ideal hour glass figure and swayed gracefully around her ankles, revealing the pale golden slipper shoes that she wore to match the gold and pearl necklace and earrings.
She looked a vision in all her finery and her outfit told of our wealth.
"Yes, my lovely Lily, but I intend on stopping in town to spoil you with lots of pretty things." I heard his faint voice from outside and saw my father as he smiled widely at my mother before she entered the carriage in front of him.
Shannon and I waved them off from the front door, and like always, I soaked up the remnant feeling of family that they had left behind - the warmth of their hugs and the love in their kisses. I held on to all of it so I wouldn't miss them while they were gone.
That night before I retired to my bed, I stood and looked upon the brilliant sunset that bathed the sky in a vivacious red hue as it peeped out over the surrounding expensive, Edwardian, stone houses.
The way the red spilled across the sky was beautiful but strangely unnerving. I couldn't help but see the way it resembled the intense colour of blood where it mixed with the darkening atmosphere.
This sunset didn't fill me with wonder as all the other's had; instead this one sent chilling imagery racing through my mind.
Something wasn't right, and a feeling stirred in me made me think it never would be.
My eyes snapped open from the memory. It was only a few weeks old, and yet so much had changed since that happy departure of my parents.
Today was the day of my parents' funeral. It was only a few short weeks after their death and not even one week since I had officially become an orphan, forced to stay in this orphanage where my life had become a chore rather than an adventure.
"Sarelle, are you dressed?" Mrs Johnson called through my bedroom door. I didn't really consider it to be my bedroom door because, to me, it was merely a room in which I lived. It was a room for me to lock, and hideaway in. It was nothing like my old room. My old room was a moderately sized pastel yellow bedroom with white sash windows and a large comfy white bed. The bed I would snuggle down into as my mother read fairytale after fairytale to me. Just waiting till I would fall asleep.
This room was a small box with a matching small window, like a prison cell. The bed filled the majority of the room even though it was half the size of my old one, and the walls were a murky grey, which I assumed used to be a fresh cream when this place was built all those years ago. The only evidence of the wall's true colour was a small slice of clean cream that poked out from behind the picture of the Orphanage's mistress, Mrs Johnson.
The acted as a place for me to feel safe for just a moment, so I could ignore the bullying of the other children. They'd call me a ghost because of my pale features, and they'd run away screaming whenever I entered a room. They laughed at my misfortune and there wasn't a day that went by when tears didn't stream down my face.
I resented this place. I thought the adoption agency had stolen my life from me and left me here to rot. She explained that due to my parents' death I would need to stay at the orphanage until someone adopted me since I had no other family. There were no distant relatives that existed to take me in. Instead, my loving, happy family had been pulled from me, and I was left here to just hope someone finds me worthy of their attention. I felt like a an unwanted toy in the bottom of the play box, waiting for someone to take me out of the dark and love me like they used to.
"Sarelle, get down here. We have to go!" Mrs Johnson was getting impatient, and I flinched at the idea of how she would treat me due to her anger. My knuckles were still chapped and raw from the last time I had angered her. I hadn't carried out my kitchen chores, and she had beaten me with her large wicker cane as punishment for my disobedience.
My parents had never struck me before, so her treatment was a shock to my system.
I hurriedly smoothed my black pinafore dress and tied the black satin bows into the ends of my plaits. The black against my fair skin made me look almost ghostly and I shrunk away from the sight knowing that the children here were right. I was just a ghost and no one would ever really notice me, not anymore. I used to be the centre of my parents world and now without them I was fading into nothingness. My skin was matched by my pale golden hair causing me to be a stark contrast of light and dark. There was only the pastel rose colour of my cheeks to break the monotony of my appearance.
My feet were heavy as I took the dark, wooden stairs down toward Mrs Johnson. She stood in a long weighty black skirt and a dark grey, high buttoned blouse. Her muddy brown hair was pulled back into a tight bun which only accentuated her sharp bone structure beneath her sallow powdered skin.
She wasn't my mother; she didn't give off a feeling of love and welcome. Instead, she was cold and hostile. Her hard, flat brown eyes didn't light with affection the way my mother's green ones had.
I missed my mother and father. I missed the sweet smell of my mother's perfume that would cloud around me when she wrapped her arms around me. I missed the slightly scratchy feeling of my father's day old stubble on my skin when he placed a kiss on my cheek. There were so many happy memories that now became tainted by the intense sadness I felt, all because I would never get the chance to live anymore of those memories with my parents. A part of me panicked that they would be lost over time. I may have lost my parents but I couldn't bear the thought of losing their memories. The very idea made my stomach drop and my throat tighten as a lump formed.
I still didn't quite understand why they had left me - why they had decided I couldn't follow them to that special place they were going. Mrs Johnson had said they didn't mean to leave, that they didn't want to, but God had decided it was their time to join him.
This again I didn't understand. My parents didn't worship God. They had never talked of him as an idol, never invited him into our house. We were one of the few families that didn't follow religion like many others in our society. However, if we didn't follow religion, then why would God decide to take my parents?
Mrs Johnson didn't explain their disappearance any further. She said I was too young to understand, but I was nine years old and the oldest in my class. I was a bright student. My teacher even said I was very clever for a nine year old. All this, and yet Mrs Johnson would not explain how I could see my parents again.
"Sarelle, stop that look. It doesn't suit your face to look so thoughtful. Now come on out to the carriage." I stopped my pondering at Mrs Johnson's command. I wiped away the solitary tear that wandered down my cheek and cleared my frowning expression back to its usual blank mask. I dropped my head to stare at the gravel as we walked to our transport, picking out the different grey colours of the individual stones and the odd green patch where the weeds peeped out to bathe in the limited, smoggy, sunlight.
The ride was quiet. Mrs Johnson wasn't one to talk. That was a fact I had learned this first week at the orphanage. Ever since I arrived there, I had slowly slipped into a silence that didn't feel natural. My parents had always encouraged me to talk with them. My mother said it was important for a girl to be able to converse adequately because, according to her, the men would much prefer a woman whom they could talk to and who showed intelligence rather than just someone who could only sit looking pretty. Even my father said he married my mother because he wanted a woman with a mind, not an ornament to house and feed.
The carriage finished its journey through the winding streets of London, and Mrs Johnson waited patiently as I stepped out. I recognised the place we had come to.
It was the same cemetery in which my grandparents were resting. I remembered my mother and father placing pretty, pale pink roses against the stone graves. They had told me graves were so the people who were left behind could still show their loved ones that they cared.
Mrs Johnson walked ahead of me as I followed diligently. It wouldn't be wise for me to stray. I rubbed the sores on my knuckles as a painful reminder to keep my behaviour in check.
Soon she stopped among a group of more people dressed in black. Tears stained their faces. Were they sad too that they couldn't go live with this God person? I didn't understand why everyone wanted to live with Him; surely His house would be too crowded for so many guests.
"Hello, Sarelle, you look very pretty, darling. Such a lovely necklace." A woman I didn't recognise held my locket in her palm as she bent in front of me. The locket held a picture of my parents and me. The solid silver casing was decorated with pretty twirling engravings that curled around the edges of the locket leaving the centre bare of decoration. It wasn't too extravagant, but its simplicity made it pretty.
It had been a gift to me from my parents on the day I was born.
"She shouldn't wear it so often. It will break, and then she'll have nothing left of them," Mrs Johnson's harsh tone made me clutch the locket in my hand.
I couldn't lose it. I would have it with me forever because that way I could have my parents with me forever. Until the day I could join them, wherever they may be.
Time passed, and I watched as people cried. Their tears seemed to increase when the two wooden coffins were lowered into the ground. The coffins were just for show because there were no bodies inside. I had learned that from listening in to the hushed conversations people had around me. I think that made losing my parents worse, because there was no real proof of them being dead or alive. It just made me think that maybe they had just left me, just walked out the door without a care in the world.
I squashed that thought immediately placing a kiss on the casing of the locket. They wouldn't do that, we were happy.
No matter how much sadness surrounded me, I couldn't comprehend why they cried. They still had their life; I had nothing left of the life I used to have. My home was now someone else's. My parents had died and left me without any way of knowing what happened to them or why they had to leave me. My things had been donated to charity because I was not allowed too many possessions at the orphanage.
I had nothing.
I felt that I was nothing. But I knew that would never really be true.
I remembered some of the last words my father had said to me:
'Time is free, but it's priceless.
You can't own it, but you can use it.
You can't keep it, but you can spend it.
Once you've lost it you can never get it back.'
He had explained to me that a rich man is always equal to a poor man in the matter of time. That even if at some point you have nothing, you will always have something that is so much more valuable than material possessions.
His words now meant more to me than they ever had. My time with him and my mother was now over but the few memories I had with them were priceless.
As the words echoed through my mind I felt the tears pour down my cheeks and soak into the collar of my dress. My voice was choked but I still managed a whisper.
"I'll never forget, Father."
Nights at the orphanage were a nightmare of cries and shadows. I could often hear the lonely sobs that would slip through the cracks under the doors. Tonight was no different.
My blanket scratched on my skin as I lay curled in a tight, uncomfortable ball.
At home I used to stretch out across the bed. I felt free and safe. Here, I never felt any of those things, and so I stuck to sleeping in a cramped position.
The echoes of the large grandfather clock ticked away the seconds. The minutes. The hours.
Every tick spending the precious time I had left. The time my father had said to cherish. I felt anxiety creeping over my balled up body like a ghost haunting me.
I couldn't waste the one thing my parents had left to me. They wouldn't like it and I never wanted to disappoint my parents.
My breathing increased, but somehow the ticking of the clock slowed. Each tick resonated clearly through the darkness, clear but prolonged, as if time was slowing.
With every slow second, I could feel an unexplainable tension building in my body. I felt like an elastic band being stretched to a point it had to explode back into place.
Another tick sounded loudly in my ears, but when it stopped, time itself seemed to be completely still. The elastic was frozen, quivering at the tension it had built. My skin was tingling all over, like I was fading into the darkness that surrounded me.
I took a gasp of air, and that was all that was needed.
The tension within me exploded as the room around me spun and blurred. I felt like I was spinning uncontrollably. I could feel my hair rush around, my plaits from earlier in the day flying in the air. My hand clutched my locket tightly as I experienced this extraordinary event. The darkness shifted to show some kind of lamp streaked night; it was as if it was at the end of a tunnel, and I was rushing towards it.
The dim light surrounded me, and I felt myself become still as I steadied myself on the solid stone floor.
I was no longer in my darkened room at the orphanage. I was someplace new. Someplace I didn't recognise.
I stood in an alley that led from a quiet street. Dirt laced the floor, and I cringed as it covered the base of my bare feet. Foul smells filled the air. Here it was not as clean as my home in London, though something about it reminded me of my hometown. I stepped out from the darkened alley and found myself on a nearly deserted street with just a few lanterns to ease my fear of the dark. A small house sat to my left; its large wooden door bearing over me.
Fear made me freeze, and I desperately clutched the locket, as I heard the voices of strangers in the house.
My father had always said never to talk to strangers.
I felt my knees shake as the door opened in front of me, and a young gentleman stepped out from the door. His golden blonde hair was a slightly darker shade than my near white blonde.
I gasped in panic as he took in my quivering form standing in front of his doorway. I was dressed in nothing but my night clothes and I felt embarrassed to be caught in such a state.
"May I be of service?" His voice was soft as he looked over my appearance.
I remained silent. My heart was pounding loudly in my chest and i felt my eyes were wide with fear.
"What's your name young one?" He came a little closer to me, and I panicked trying to find somewhere to hide. I couldn't. There were only scary dark corners that gave me no comfort.
I stared up at the man who stood patiently waiting for me to answer. My mother had said it was rude to ignore someone when they asked you a question, though this contradicted my father's advice.
"Sarelle." My voice shook.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Sarelle. I am Mr Cullen, but you can call me Carlisle." His soft blue eyes conveyed no malice, so I took a step toward him offering him my hand.
He shook it warmly.
"Hast thou a family in these parts?" I felt my face crinkle in confusion. I didn't understand his language, but the mention of family caused me to shake my head in misery.
"You are alone?" His voice portrayed his worry.
I nodded once again.
He seemed to deliberate for a moment before taking my hand and leading me into his home.
It was simply decorated with wooden beams and low ceilings. A large kitchen table sat toward the back of the room while a fireplace roared next to a few chairs. It wasn't as finely presented as my old home, or even the orphanage, but it felt like it was a real home. I decided these people must be religious because they had a large, wooden, carved cross situated against one of the walls.
"Sarelle, please take a seat while I discuss something with my father." I felt awkward intruding on his home, though I had no understanding what else I could do. I had no idea how I had come to end up in this place, or how to leave it and return to the orphanage. I sat on the wooden stool by the fire and waited silently. I shouldn't be here. I knew that much was true, but I couldn't find it in me to walk out the door into the darkness. I felt like I should trust Carlisle. There was some part of me that registered the risk of entering a strange man's house, but for the most part I was just glad to be out of the frightening dark and in a warm room that allowed me a little time to settle my mind from what had just happened.
A short while later I heard footsteps coming down the rickety stairs that were situated against the far back wall.
Carlisle brought with him an elderly man with an ill-tempered air about him. It was obvious from the way he muttered about an unwanted interruption.
"Sarelle, this is my father, Andrew. He is this area's Vicar." The older man gave me a look of disapproval and confusion. I assumed it was due to my attire. Carlisle gave off no such disgust and smiled warmly at me.
"I am most pleased to meet you, kind sir. I am sorry to intrude upon your home." Andrew nodded sternly at my apology. I had a feeling he may be as strict as Mrs Johnson.
"Sarelle, it is far too dangerous to wander these streets at night. Would you rest here tonight?" Carlisle was watching me carefully for any sign of fear or discomfort. For some reason, I felt none. His presence helped soothe the nerves that had built over my bizarre situation.
"I do not wish to be any trouble." My comment was half-hearted. I didn't want to walk through the darkness outside. I hated the dark.
"It is no trouble, child. None who walk at night are safe from those demons that hide in the shadows." Andrew's voice was gruff and instilled fear into me. I glanced toward the darkness outside the window; a shiver ran down my spine at the thought of ghoulish beings walking the night.
"Father, you mustn't scare her with such tales. She is just a child." Carlisle seemed to disapprove of his father's words.
"They are not tales, son. It is facts and knowledge that tell of our London being plagued with vampires and devils." My face drained at the information Andrew divulged.
First this place was London, but definitely not the London I knew.
Second, Andrew spoke of demons, vampires, and devils. My parents had taught me not to believe in such nonsense, saying they were horrors people told to give religion an evil to fight against.
"My parents told me not to fear such things. They said they don't exist." My voice wobbled. I knew I shouldn't be so forward with my opinions. They may offend people, and I didn't want to insult these kind people after they had taken me in for the night.
"Where are your parents now?" Carlisle's hand rested on my arm, reassuring me that I was safe.
"Mrs Johnson said they live in the sky, and that I can't see them anymore." A tear dropped down my cheek, and Carlisle gave me a smile that showed sadness in his eyes.
"Your parents must have been good people for God to have taken them so early." Andrew commented. He didn't have the same soft blue eyes as Carlisle. His, although still blue, were a steely shade full of life's hardships. Grey mixed with his mousy brown hair and aged him further. For some reason, which I could not understand, he watched me with curiosity and knowledge, as if he was trying to understand something about me.
"You should sleep, Sarelle. You can take the place beside my bed. I have a blanket to keep the chill away." Carlisle took my hand and led me up the rickety stairs into a relatively small room filled with only a bed and various books including a large leather-bound bible. I knew that my mind should not have let me follow him so easily. I should have doubts of his apparent kind nature. However, I was tired, and his blue eyes showed such compassion and kindness, I couldn't bring myself to worry about staying with him.
Perhaps if I slept, I would wake up in the orphanage only to find this strange event had been a dream.
Sounds of hustle and bustle woke me from my deep sleep.
Morning light flooded the room where I slept. It wasn't my room at the orphanage; instead it was the room I had stayed in along with Carlisle.
"It wasn't a dream," my voice shook as I whispered my revelation. I had been certain I would wake up and find my life back to normal. I was hoping that perhaps the fates would have been kind and allowed me to go back to the very start before my parents left. I could have stopped them from leaving. None of this would have happened if I had just stopped them from getting into that carriage.
My mind was plagued with 'what ifs' as I woke up from my groggy state.
Carlisle was no longer asleep on the unsteady wooden bed near the door, but I could hear him and his father downstairs.
I passed my hand over my locket; just checking it was still with me and not lost in the events of the night. I sighed at the feel of the heavy, cold silver sitting against my chest.
The house in the daytime wasn't as light as my old home, but the murky sun lit up the stone coloured walls giving off the feelings of warmth and safety.
I wandered along the small hallway, my feet getting cold on the wooden floor. As I descended the stairs I saw Carlisle sitting at the large table. Andrew appeared to have left because he was nowhere to be seen in the small house and I didn't hear him upstairs.
"Mr Cullen, sir?" His kind face looked up to me and lit with a small smile.
"Good morning, Sarelle. I was hoping today we would go to the market if you care to accompany me, and please call me Carlisle." I nodded in reply but froze when I saw my night clothes were the only thing I possessed. Surely I couldn't wander through a market dressed in a flimsy cotton dress and bare feet.
"But what of my clothes? I have nothing but this dress."
"You will be fine, Sarelle. There are worse sights on the street than a child in a night dress." He chuckled and fetched me a bread bun to ease my hunger.
This new London was nothing like the one I had come from. It wasn't as busy. Smells of fruit and vegetables filled the air mixed with the smoke of fires and dirt. I looked in horror when a woman tipped the contents of her chamber pot out into the road. Carlisle had pulled me away swiftly; otherwise I would have been covered in the vile stuff.
This place wasn't the civilised, clean, bustling London I had spent my entire nine years of my life in. However, it still had a feeling of home. Perhaps it was because I knew it was London, or maybe it was Carlisle's presence that made me feel at ease. He held my hand to keep me from harm as we wandered through the streets. He was like my father in so many ways from his soft eyes to the proud way he held himself, and because of that, I felt an attachment to him. It was irrational to form such an attachment because I had only known him for one short night, but I felt like my desperation at being alone in this place strengthened my bond with Carlisle.
"How old are you, Sarelle?"
"I am nine years old, but I will be ten in October." I beamed at Carlisle. I felt mature saying I would soon be ten.
"Ten years old in two months, you'll nearly be an adult." Carlisle teased, and I giggled as we continued to walk through the town.
"I am twenty and three this year of 1640. Isn't that old?" He grinned at me, and I stumbled on the dirty street when I registered the date. 1640. Nearly three hundred years in the past. It was impossible. Time travel is not something from the real world; even books stumbled over the idea. I gasped and continued my conversation with Carlisle. There was no way I could explain how I had come to be here, but I knew my life had changed.
"My father was thirty so he was ancient compared to you." I giggled and tried to relieve my body of the tension that had appeared in me due to my confusion and shock.
"My father wishes for me to carry on his profession now I am old enough to do so." His voice didn't hold much excitement at the prospect of following in his father's footsteps.
"Do you not want to be a Vicar?"
"Religion is very important to me, but the evils that come with it do not fill me with an urgency to fight. Something my father, I'm sure, finds disappointing. He sees it as his duty to rid this world of its demons. But I just cannot bear to watch their innocent human hosts' burn." Even if I couldn't understand fully what he meant by demons and burning, I could easily understand the sorrow in Carlisle's eyes.
I also knew the sorrow that resided in Carlisle's eyes wasn't meant to be there. The man before me showed nothing but kindness, and I couldn't comprehend why anyone would want to make him do anything that would bring out such sad emotion in his eyes.
"What was your father's work?" Carlisle questioned as his features cleared. I found myself having to think hard to come up with the answer. I only knew the name of my father's profession, not what he actually did.
"He was an accountant." I bit my lip to stop it from trembling at the memory of my father and his near constant happy expression.
"An accountant? That sounds a rather prestigious profession." Carlisle pondered my answer, and I wondered if he really understood what an accountant was. Did they have them in this time period?
It was strange knowing that this wasn't the same era I was used to.
"It wasn't particularly fancy, but it gave him enough money to spoil my mother and me." I stroked the casing on my locket, and Carlisle noticed my actions.
"May I see inside it? It's such an exquisite piece." I thumbed the catch for a moment before following his request and opened up the locket to reveal the picture of my family embedded in the red velvet lining.
"You made a fine family," he said with a soft voice and I nodded as solemnity sunk through me.
"I miss them very much," I sniffled. Carlisle rested his hand on my shoulder as a sign of reassurance.
I couldn't go back to the time when I was happy with my parents, but I could find a way to be happy in this new life. I could live for them, even if I couldn't live with them.
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So what do you think so far? Love it? Like it? Hate it? Please comment and/or vote! - LongLiveMusic17