Freedom was something I hadn’t experienced much and I took advantage of the little I had of it. A string of thick ivy was only a few inches away from my hands and I grasped the twine firmly. My world that I had lived in for a stretched nearly thirteen years was being torn and slashed away at, yet I felt eager towards the future. As I neared the last string of ivy a single word arose piercingly from the sitting room- a word only too familiar-
“CHARLOTTE!” yelled Mistress Elizabeth once more as the door leading to the balcony was thrust open so strongly I was sure a window must be cracked. Before I had much time to think, I could feel my fingers loosen their grip and I freed the ivy from my hands as I jumped into the soggy grass below.
The awful dewy scent from last night’s drizzle filled my nostrils as I laid still; the feeling in my body had deserted me. My heart pulsed wildly but the beat softened as I realized that nothing would change what was going to happen: Mistress Elizabeth’s long nose pointing downward, her beady eyes burning with fury and lips thin, yells soon to follow. Yet, none of these things came about!
“Mistress, would you not lose your temper so? Mr. Dale and his wife are in slumber, yet you don’t mind making such a racket?” said Butler, a person of little importance in this story and his name I forget anyway.
“It’s the little miss! Charlotte is missing and I heard something when I was pouring tea in the sitting room-”
“You heard something? Elizabeth, go pour more tea before someone wakes up-”
“You don’t care for the little miss? Charlotte could be in menace! How could you live with knowing something could be happening to her!” interrupted Mistress Elizabeth.
“I said, go pour more tea,” repeated Butler.
Note this whole conversation was being heard from about a dozen feet off into the grass. I assumed some of the words, so to speak. Yet, I got the gist of it. The gist simply was, I was awfully fortunate.
The two hurried inside and so my breath steadied and I waited for a miracle to happen. Soon, I could feel my long fingers grasp the pieces of grass loosely and I lingered for a moment; enjoying the wind fumble with my golden locks, then the ribbons binding my hair fell into the soil and the thick mane is free. I am free.
I was too wholly to be considered dead, but still a long, long journey away from being thought alive, but that occurs later. Any who, I still felt lively and content while my world burned away, ashes I hoped did not linger. I brushed the dirt off my bloomers. A new hymn was being sung these days and my ears only yearned for more.
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