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Lighthouse - Prologue

Incognito · 2008-12-21T03:17:24Z

Lighthouse Authors Note: The Prologue may seem a bit cliche but you have to remember it is supposed to be innocent and it is a child in the beginning. Sorry, it's extremely long. Also I want detailed critiques if possible. I know it isn't the best. And this is not supposed to be a happy story. Let me know if I should continue. We enjoy warmth because we have been cold. We appreciate light because we have been in darkness. By the same token, we can experience joy because we have known sadness. ~David Weatherford Prologue: 23rd December 1935 London, England I ran. I ran so hard, my breath appearing before me in the cold evening air. My big blue eyes glistened with tears and I kept looking around in panic, my long fair undulating hair framed my face like a golden halo and my cheeks were flushed pink from exhaustion and the chilly wind that would gently caress my face. I ran past people who either jumped back in surprise at seeing a tiny girl like me run past them or they just ignored me and went on with their last minute shopping. The rhythm of the steady voices and the jingle of bells surrounded me as I whirled around once more in hope of finding my mother. I stopped out of breath and straightened my dress and leaned up against an old wall. “Mother… Where could you be?” I choked the words under my breath and I wiped the tears that fell from my cheeks. “Mother… I’m scared.” At this time, I was only a young girl of the age of six, born on December 3rd 1929. My name was Alyse Howard and I had grown up in London all my life. My father was a wealthy business man and we had a huge mansion on Regent St. The truth was, I had never been happy with all the gifts that I would be showered with. I would look out my bedroom window and see all the kids playing in the streets with a ball, laughing and cheering. There was a girl in particular with voluminous red hair that I wished with all my heart to be. She would always be smiling and everyday her father would come and scoop her up into his arms and carry her home for dinner. For me this seemed like the weirdest thing ever because I had only been held by my father a few times and each time I would cherish. My father was never home and when he was, he was always busy. He had no time for his own daughter. After all, I was only a daughter. Not the son who would take over his business. It was not that I was envious of this girl; it just was that I wished my father would eventually show that affection to me. And here I was alone, a night before Christmas Eve, looking for my mother who I couldn’t find. We had gone out to buy a gift for my father with my Nana, my mother’s maid, who was along with us to carry the bags. In one of the many stores that lined the street I had had lost my mother and I couldn’t find her. I scurried in and out of alleyways and charged down broad streets just hoping to catch a glimpse of my mother’s long beautiful golden hair and elegant stride. I had taken after my mother. Everything about me, from the way I walked to my build was exactly my mothers, except for one thing. I would smile. To see my mother smile was the most marvellous moment I could ever imagine. Her painted lips would gently pull aside into a crescent shape and her perfectly straight white teeth would be revealed. Someone had said a long time ago that my mother’s smile was what made my father fall in love with her. She was apparently the most gorgeous woman in London, but she was born into a poor family. Her status was insignificant in the world; that was until my father met her. Apparently, my mother used to always smile, but as soon as she married father, she stopped and her beautiful looks seemed to fade away back into the darkness as if it never existed. When she went out she would usually wear a hood over her head, hiding her hair that was like golden strands of thread. Her bright blue eyes that once emanated happiness seemed dull and lifeless now. She wasn’t happy and every night I worried that I would lose her to herself. “Mother!” I called out into the streets that were slowly empting as if the people were never actually there. And then soon enough the store lights faded out and I sunk to my knees, the tears falling silently down my cheeks. I pushed them away quickly. Ladies weren’t supposed to cry. But they also weren’t supposed to sit in streets in the cold alone. And then the snow started to fall as if from nothing. I heard a door slam and I looked up at the clouds hanging low in the sky, blocking the moon from sight. I always wanted to walk down the streets of London at night but now as I sat here, the snow settling itself in my hair like little crystals, I wished nothing more but to be at home in my mothers arms, her running her hands through my hair and singing sweet nothings in my ear. It wasn’t as bad as it seemed, but I could feel the panic rising. It wasn’t that I was so afraid of being alone; it was more worrying not knowing if my mother ever did make it home and if she was worrying just as much as I was worrying about her. I got to my feet and looked around in a daze my feet feeling like lead and my heart heavier. I felt like I had lost all hope. I was scared, cold, wet, and alone in the middle of London at night. There were many things that could happen, some of them worse then others. I rubbed my hands together in hopes for warming them up but I figured out it was futile. I shoved my hands in my coat pockets and walked quietly along the sidewalk. A black car drove by through a puddle sending the muddy water of London spraying everywhere. I stared longingly at the retreating car as is drove farther down the street. I wished that in that car was my mother and father who would welcome me in with open arms, but that was just a false hope. I stared down another dark alley before I crossed and I jumped back in surprise as I saw movement and sparks ignite like fireworks. I stepped forward into the alleyway because my curiosity took a hold of me and I saw a figure hunched over a small fire that was refusing to get going in the cold winter night. I neared closer knowing that it wasn’t safe but part of me longed to sit beside a fire and bask in its warmth. At the sound of my footsteps, the figure jumped to his feet and looked at me in a quick movement and I saw it was only a boy in ripped and patched clothing, dirt on his cheek and a hat on his head. His eyes showed pure astonishment and I knew that what a sight I must have been, with my swollen eyes from crying and my disarranged clothing. He turned away from me and scratched the back of his head and sat back down at the small fire he was trying to get going. The boy was no older then myself and it surprised how poor he looked and how sparse his clothing was. I was cold in my well-made coat and I could not imagine how cold he must have been. “What do you want?” His voice was stern and piercing in the quiet. It seemed to echo off the walls and come to me from every direction. “N-nothing.” I replied nervously and stepped closer staring at the boy. “I would invite you to sit by my fire but at the moment it doesn’t seem like I will have a fire tonight.” He said turning to me with such hostile eyes. I would never be able to forget those eyes, somehow accusing and miserably sad at the same time. “I-I-I’m sorry. Sorry for bugging you.” I said hurriedly and turned around to leave. I didn’t like those eyes. It made me realize at the point that there was people much far worse off then me. “You weren’t bugging me. You can stay if you want. I am not much company though for someone like you.” His brown eyes stabbed into my back and I knew he was acknowledging my warm clothes and shiny black shoes. “It is not safe out there for someone your age.” I whirled around then with childish rage and looked directly at him back in the eyes. “You can’t be that much older than me! You are a child yourself!” I said stubbornly and I put my hands on my hips sophisticatedly. “But from your appearance, it seems you have never been alone for a day in you life.” He smirked a slightly crooked smile and made me again realize that this boy must have spent many days alone. “Just sit down. I have some bread I can let you borrow, even though you look well fed.” I edged toward him at the sound of bread and I felt my stomach rumble. I hadn’t eaten since dinner. I sat down of the other side of the mingling fire and watched the meagre flames endlessly licking at the sky. I watched as the snow would whirl to close to the flames and melt in mid-air. The boy threw a stick in the fire and a burst of sparks flew up and I jumped back in surprise. “Not used to fires I see.” The boy grabbed a ramshackle bag from behind him and pulled out a full loaf of bread from it again to my disbelief. He split it in half and handed me the smaller piece. He didn’t even seem to notice he did this and inside I felt offended. But then I remembered that he was probably giving me his own meal for the next couple days. “I have a fireplace at home.” I gazed at the fire lovingly remembering sitting beside my mother in the living room covered with a blanket as she read me a story. That was a happy time and it made me miss my home even more. The boy looked at my face but as soon as I returned his gaze he turned and looked at the wall to the left of the alley-way. “Why aren’t you in your home? Why aren’t you with you mother and father with a full stomach and warm? Why in the world would you be in some place like this?” His voice was brusque and it made me feel even more unwelcome here. “I have lost my mother. I don’t know where I am. I don’t know my way home.” I watched as a snowflake gently fluttered down into my palm and disappear there. “What’s you name?” He said returning his gaze to me. I watched as his gaze examined my items and I felt threatened and held myself closer. There was longing in his eyes, and I knew that if he wanted my things he could pretty much well take it. “My name is Alyse Howard.” I said automatically. “My name is James.” He alleged without much thought. “I never knew my parents so I don’t know my last name. The people who were taking care of me named me. The said they didn’t know who my parents were.” “What happened to the people who were taking care of you?” “They both died.” He said and looked into the fire as if he could see their faces in the flames. “I’m sorry…” I apologized. “There is no need to be sorry if you did nothing wrong. I don’t want your sympathy. I am doing perfectly well here.” He said briefly. I couldn’t help but laugh at this because from what I saw he wasn’t at all well off. At first he looked at me as if I was a retard, but then he warmed up and chuckled himself. “I guess you are right. This isn’t the best life to be living. But it is all I got, right?” I stopped laughing at this. There was so much different between us. I had everything I had ever wanted. I had all the things I have ever needed. I got three meals a day plus snacks when ever I asked. Meanwhile this boy had to look and scrounge for his own food. Sometimes he went without food for days and had no home to return to and a place to take shelter from the cold drizzling rain of London. This was what poverty looked like and I stared at him, trying to figure out how he felt and what was going on in his mind. What it was like not to be sheltered by anyone or anything. There was nobody to defend him. Nobody to stick of for his needs and he was too small to be heard. It was then I heard a scream echo through the alleyway. I jumped to my feet as I recognized my mother’s voice. “Let go of me!” She screamed. My breath caught and I sprinted towards the alleyway across the street. My heart pounded in my chest and all I thought to do was to help my mother. I heard her cry of pain and I tried to push myself faster. “Alyse!” I heard James call behind me. I stopped and turned to see him running toward me. “Don’t just stand there! Move!” He yelled and I turned and saw the headlights of a car coming toward me and the screech of the brakes and the car tried to stop but the roads were too slippery. “Mother!” I cried and tried to jump out of the way. I heard her answering call and then I felt a push against my chest to get me out of the way of the car. I turned to see James with his arms around me and the car zoomed by but first it caught on James ankle and I heard the crack of bone and his excruciating cry of pain. “Go!” He managed to say and he shifted he weight off of me and I jumped to my feet, tears glistening in my eyes, turned and ran towards the alleyway. He had saved my life. I would have to thank him later. Halfway down the alleyway I saw my Nana lying on the ground blood dripping from the back of her head. My breath caught and I felt my knees buckle beneath me. “No…” I whispered and my vision blurred. This wasn’t happening. I fell. “Nana…” I grabbed her hand and I felt the warmth drain from it. The snow clung to her lashes and I noticed she wasn’t breathing. I had known her since my childhood. “No! Let go of me!” I heard my mother’s panicked cry again and shook my head to snap myself out of my trance. I looked further into the alleyway and I saw three heavier built silhouettes pinning down my mom’s tiny frame. “Let go of my mother!” I cried and charged forward at the man who was holding her down. I saw her eyes widen in fear as she saw me. The man pushed me and I fell onto my back. I straightened out again and fool-heartedly charged at him again. “Let go of her!” I begged clawing at the man’s arms. To my horror, I watched one of the other men raise up her shirt revealing her porcelain skin on her stomach. There was a bruise forming there. “Get this bitch off of me!” The man yelled at the one who was doing nothing. He grabbed me and flung me away. “Mother! No!” I cried again and flung myself forward again but then I felt a sudden pain as I felt a punch to my stomach and I fell over to my side winded. “No…” I said, pain faltering my voice. “Kill the child already!” The one man called as he started to pull down my mother’s skirts. “No!” Mother called struggling and fighting back, flailing her arms. She kicked the one in the nose breaking it making blood trickle down to the pavement. “Slut! You didn’t! Hold her down better!” “Alyse! Run! Get out of here!” She cried tears spilling out of her eyes. Another haunting moment of seeing my mother was when she would cry. I personally had only seem her cry once but the memory was dim compared to this one and it pained me every time I pictured it. “Mother! I can’t leave you!” I cried back trying to get to my feet. The man kicked me back down. “Leave me Alyse! Go! Run!” My mother begged as she kicked and writhed to get out of the man’s grip. “I can’t bear to see you dead!” Those words stopped me where I was and I felt the sting to my heart. My mother did care and if I stayed I would die. I got to my feet, and stared at her, emotions running through my head. “Mom… I can’t leave…” “Yes you can! Now go!” The anguish in her voice could also be seen on her face. Her once beautiful golden hair was matted and her eyes seemed dark and full of agony. This was not how I wanted to ever see her. I always thought of her as the loving sombre mother who would always protect me and keep me safe and seeing her here, looking the most vulnerable I have ever seen her, made me become conscious that nobody was safe in this world and that the world was not as perfect as it seemed. Nobody was fully safe in the world, and there was absolutely no way possible that if I stayed, I would ever be able to live. There are sick people in the world and it made me feel small and insignificant and scared at the same time. And so my cluelessness of childhood was gone. I saw the one man pant’s fall. My eyes widened in horror. “Alyse. Go!” I felt a pull from behind and in a daze I turned and saw James there, misery clearly seen on his face. He pushed me to the front of the alleyway and I stumbled forward into a run. And I ran. I ran as hard as I could and as far as could. I ran until I felt the cramps pinch my sides and my breath catch and my legs feel like lead. I staggered to a stop and pushed myself up to the wall and my knees buckled beneath me and I fell. Tears slipped down my cheeks and held myself close. I had never felt that alone in my life. About an hour later, I heard an unsteady walk approach me and I looked up and saw James approach with his disfigured limp. He sat down beside me and put his arm around me and held me close. “You are not alone anymore. I am here.” He whispered in my ear. We sat there until morning until people came from there houses and found covered in a layer of snow. And he had always been there since. But I personally haven’t been the same. After witnessing my mother’s rape, and finding her dead in that alleyway the next morning, I slowly slipped into depression because at that moment, at the age of six, I felt my world cave in around me. It was the worst feeling I have ever felt, and my once so sheltered life, had progressed to this. I was a lost ship at sea, searching for a lighthouse to guide me back to shore.

Monday

Gender

Points 890

Reviews 2

Thu Mar 05, 2009 1:57 am

Monday says... · Thu Mar 05, 2009 1:57 am

I loved this but it seems to me that your characters are a bit to mature to be six and eight, maybe you should tone down the way they speak a little. Maybe research how they would talk and think on Google?

Other whys, awesome job!

-Monday

Love of mine, someday you will die. But I'll be close behind, to follow you into the dark.
- Death Cab For Cutie

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I have been impressed with the urgency of doing. Knowing is not enough; we must apply. Being willing is not enough; we must do.
— Leonardo da Vinci

Lighthouse - Prologue

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