Thanks for all the comments on my work! I've tried to edited this according the the sugestions that I've recived thus far, thanks so much everyone! Let me know if you see anything else that needs fixing! Thanks again!
~Prologue~
Abigail kept her eyes closed; she did not wish to see the horrors of her life as it was now. Fall gripped her with its chilling arms, clinging to her with every ounce of strength it could muster. She wrapped her ragged shawl closer around her body, curling into a ball, leaning against the wall behind her, trying desperately not to shake. The muddy rat tails that were now her long brown hair, dirty and knotted, hung around her shoulders and face.
“Please… god, oh, please… I wish to go back; I don’t wish to die here, not like this.” Abigail sobbed into thin air.
The cobbled stone streets were uncomfortable and hard, the bricks cold against her skin. She shifted her body, attempting to find a more comfortable position.
Suddenly, a blast of cold air blew in her face. Her emerald eyes shot open, glistening with tears. A man stood before her. He looked like a chimney sweep; his entire body blackened with soot, even his face was lined with it. Every wrinkle had become a distinct black line. His hair was a darkened gray, streaks of silver running through the mop on his head.
“Err… I beg ‘ur pardon. But it be looking as tho’ you could use a warm place ta’ stay…” He muttered.
He looked at her with shy eyes. However, Abigail knew better. She had lived on the streets of London for almost a month now, and she knew better than to accept offers from men.
“I’m sorry… please… just let me be…” Abigail said, shaking her head weakly.
The man looked to her again, his eyes filled with a new sense of pity. He looked to the ground, scuffling his feet, before finally looking up back to her, as though understanding what she meant.
“Oh! No miss, see, you’re sitting in my master’s alley! You look pretty beat up, so… heck we’ve got a fire big enough to warm the whole city!” he said eagerly.
Abigail looked up to him once more, startled by his kindness. ‘Is he telling the truth?’ She thought. He seemed too old to want to harm anyone. She looked into his eyes. They were the same, still warm, still open to the world, still caring. She focused her eyes on him, allowing her to see beyond what others could.
He was glowing. The shine was bright, yet the color a soft blue. She closed her eyes once more, focusing her mind this time. She struggled at first. Images of a young man, alone but happy, flashed behind her eyes. She tried to focus on one particular image, allowing her mind to relax, allowing her physical body to loosen. Finally she found the image she was looking for. She reached out to it, grasping it in her mind, holding it close to her. The image expanded and she saw herself, sitting in the alley, cold and ragged. She heard the mans thoughts. ‘Poor thing’ and ‘She needs a warm place to stay’ drifted through her mind. Slowly, she opened her eyes. The man was pure.
He looked at her, puzzled. Slowly, she smiled and tried to get up.
“Thank you for your kindness...” Abigail whispered. She tried to put her weight onto the wall as she stood. Finally she stood on two legs, still leaning against the wall. “I shall come…”
Abigail leaned away from the wall, preparing herself to walk with the man to the fire that he spoke of. She had been cold for so long, for what seemed like an eternity, she needed his warmth. The man walked forward, seemingly aware of how ill she was. Suddenly, just as Abigail took her first step, she felt her body drain of all its strength. She felt her body crashing to the ground; her arms and legs limp as she fell through the air. As she drifted to the realm of unconsciousness, she felt her body fall into the arms of the man. ‘Thank you…’
***
~Chapter 1~
Abigail could sense motion all around her. She heard the hushed voices, the soft scraping of feet. She felt warm, a feeling she had not known for what seemed like an eternity.
The distinct smell of charcoal and a burning fire filled the air. Her head throbbed to the beat of her heart, the pain growing stronger with each passing moment. She could not think due to the pain, she could only feel. Someone was touching her, holding her hand. She lay still, only wanting for the throbbing to go away, only wishing that she could re-live the past. Her head began to throb even more with her thoughts, until finally she couldn’t take it any longer. Slowly, she opened her eyes, adjusting them to the dim light.
Illuminated by the fire light, a woman stood over her. Abigail could barely move, her body feeling useless and limp. Her eyes drifted to the woman’s face. She couldn’t see the features of the woman properly in such dim light, but she seemed gentle to Abigail. She was humming, quietly, a lullaby it seemed. Her voice was soft, humming slow and simple tunes. Her eyes were focused on Abigail’s hands, as she rubbed them gently with her own. Her hands were leathery and warm, and Abigail was starting to get feeling back into her fingers.
Slowly, Abigail could feel her body once more, the warmth of the fire spreading through her. Her headache began to fade. She moved ever so slightly, trying not to let the woman notice. She moved her head, attempting to put it in a more comfortable position.
Suddenly, the woman looked to her, startled. When her eyes met with Abigail’s, her face softened.
“Ah, bought time you came about ma dear.” She said her voice as soft as her hands. She smiled and then looked away, letting out a long sigh. “Thought we were going to lose you a few hours back. But no! I told them you’d pull through.” She turned back to Abigail, her face happy as ever.
“Ah good, she’s awake.” A voice said from somewhere in the darkness.
Slowly, Abigail’s eyes adjusted, finding that behind the old woman stood the man who had brought her here, the man that had saved her life. She suddenly felt an overwhelming sense that she needed to reach out to the man, to tell him how much his kindness meant to her.
Abigail attempted to lift her torso up. The woman beside her grabbed her; worried that Abigail would collapse at any second. Slowly, weakly, Abigail was able to sit up, leaning her upper weight onto her arms. She looked to the man, tears forming in her eyes, tears she could have only hoped to control. He looked to her now, astonishment and shock overwhelming his features.
“Now would ya’ look at that... She’s still got some strength in her yet…” he chuckled.
Abigail smiled at his praise, something she had not done in nearly a month.
“Sir… Thank you…” she said, unsure of the right words to use in such a situation. She had nearly died, she understood that, and had it not been for this mans kindness, she would have died.
With this realization, her body began to shake, more tears welling up in her eyes. She had let so many down, and yet still, sometimes she found angels in humans. Her tears streamed down her face, her mind ridden with the fear of her own death. The man and the woman looked to her, confused, offering condolences for whatever she was feeling.
Abigail calmed herself forcefully, knowing that she must not cry; knowing that she could not stay. She understood now why she had come to London in the first place, away from those she loved.
“I…I must go…” Abigail stuttered, not knowing how to say goodbye.
The woman looked at her, puzzled. The man, however, looked to her with a new sense of astonishment in his eyes.
“Miss…you’re still sick…if you go back out there you’ll get worse…” he said slowly, his face growing grim.
Abigail shot her head up, acutely aware of the man’s tone. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. And if she stayed, then what? She would never find work; she would never accomplish what she had set out to do.
“Sir… I… I can’t…I have to find work…”
He stood there a moment, as though thinking. Coming out of his trance, he stepped forward, looking her straight in the eyes, placing his hands on her shoulders gently.
“Miss, what is your name?” he asked.
“Abigail… sir…” he nodded once.
“Well, miss Abigail, I am Mr. Bowne,” he then looked to the woman, “and this here is my wife, Mrs. Bowne.”
“Now… How old are you?”
“Sixteen Sir…”
He looked his wife’s eyes, a slight smile on his face. ]
“Miss Abigail, I’ll get straight to the point.” He looked back to her, his hands still placed on her shoulders. “You are looking for work, and we are looking for a new scullery maid.” He said.
Abigail’s eyes grew wide. “Sir?” she whispered. He nodded at her.
“Of course, we’d have to be told how you ended up on the streets of London in the first place, can’t let any old person walk in here and start working for the master.”
At this, Abigail looked down to the floor. Again, she would have to bring back what she had tried to forget so long ago. She stared into space, considering her options. She could either go back out into the cold, back out into a world where she might live and forget her past. But Abigail knew that she might never get another chance like this again, she might wander the streets of London for years, if she could survive that long, and all she had suffered, all she had been through, all would mean nothing. Forgive or forget her past, that was her choice.
Abigail stared at the floor, not knowing what to do. Could she really live if she abandoned this opportunity? If she said no, she might have a chance of survival, of wiping her past from her mind. To forget everything, to start over from scratch, it would be such a blessing to her. ‘But then again…maybe it would be a curse.’ She thought. Slowly, she closed her eyes, searching for answers.
‘God… what do I do?’ she asked in her mind. She began to breathe slowly, allowing her body to relax. She stared into space for what seemed to be a lifetime through her eyes, her thoughts running around in her mind. Slowly, she lifted her eyes from the floor. She knew her choice.
) see around her when she wakes up? Does she know what kind of a place she is in? What kind of smells are in the air? I would love to see more of that.
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