Chapter 3

Oh man…things are not looking good. I’m unsure on whether Elijah should be trusted. For her own safety, Annabel should just trust herself. Maybe she could bring someone with her if she wants, but it’s best for Annabel to go solo. I will wait for the next chapter of this adventure. Until then, there is only trouble on the horizon.

I hope that you will have a beautiful day and night.

Wow! This is one of a kind chapter. The last part made me deathly uncomfortable, because of the implications around it. Let's go into the review!

General overview:
I like how you put the story into the perspective of a little servant girl's eyes. Her innocence, curiosity, and wit immediately make her a great and lovable protagonist. Audiences, especially those older than her which is the target crowd for this story I believe, will be able to feel sad for her state and extremely protective over her, especially at the times where she is experiencing something bad or seeing something terrible. We just want to jump into the story and whisk her away into a better world. And even the other characters, too. I want to drag Annabel and Susanne away from the Garden and find them a better life than just being objects on display.

You also have a way of describing that makes certain scene uncomfortable, especially the scene with the fat bad man. That scene is now imprinted in my mind and gives me chills whenever I read it. Great job! Although thanks for nothing for the chills lol

Specific Comments:
Regarding the characters, I really like how you depict them. In a young person's eyes, people are either good or bad. There's no in between. For Annabel, this is certainly the case, except for Elijah perhaps. The way you described and wrote the thoughts of the character matched with her age and experience.

At first, I thought the Garden was an actually garden. But as I read on, it was actually a slave market. And the way Mr. Moor referred to them as flowers was demeaning and devaluing. I find it interesting that you used "The Garden" to describe this market and "flowers" to describe the slaves. Usually, gardens and flowers are associated with positive things and beautiful moments and happy memories. Even some lovers would call their significant other by a certain flower that mean much to each other. Yet your usage here puts a whole new twist on the usage of flower and garden. Perhaps this is one of the things I admire most about your work. You were able to make Mr. Moor turn something beautiful into something loathsome, which is what actual bad people do in the real world. That takes a lot of imagination and good execution so you should be happy with yourself about that!

Overall, this was a chapter that started out pitiful and turned into one that was extremely loathsome to look at. Readers at this point would hate "The Garden" and for sure will want to see Annabel escape. Will she? I hope she does. But I hope she survives her escape, too.

This is alpacaboss, signing off.

Hi there! I get to review another chapter of yours of this lovely and interesting novel of yours. This is loveissourgrapes sending you support and a comment/review. loading...

Annabel never heard any of the kids talk about an escape anymore. She herself didn’t even want to think about it either. The next morning after Victor’s public punishment, he couldn’t walk because his legs hurt; Annabel fearfully watched Elijah force him to stand up and work his usual hours. She knew she couldn’t say or do anything while the watcher could hear her or stop her, but when Victor returned to the dormitory in the evening, Annabel helped him change dirty and blood-soaked bandages. She saw the deepest and the most hopeless despair in the boy’s blue eyes. She used to see them bright and gleaming with joy and confidence… To her, it seemed amazingly stupid and wrong that a thirteen-year-old’s face was pale, his eyes scared, his hands trembling in pain. But there was no one who would help Victor. Neither Annabel, nor anyone else in the entire mansion. She knew it.

In the next few days, Annabel changed her job at least three times: there was always a lack of capable hands somewhere. When working in the stables, she would see Mr Morr much more often. He belonged to the kind of tyrants who were ruthless with the human beings under their control, but kind and loving with their pets. He had an expensive hobby only the richest and the proudest people could afford: he would buy the best horses in the kingdom to make them his own.

Once, while she was cleaning up in the stables, Annabel heard some noise outside. There were the voices of Mr Morr and his most trusted stableman – a man of big stature that was all covered in scars: according to rumors, they were left by wild horses he used to tame in his youth. Both of them were watching a horse Mr Morr considered his favorite. Annabel carefully peered from out of the doors to throw a glance at the most beautiful stallion ever: it was entirely raven-black with deep blue glow in its hair, high and strong, so elegant, so massive and noble in its pace that it reminded Annabel of the knight’s horse from a fairy tale her mother used to tell her many years ago.

“My royal boy!” Mr Morr declared with pride and clapped his hands. “For all Heaven’s sake, he’s shining like a real diamond!”

Annabel noticed that, too. The horse’s fur was gleaming like the cleaned jewel’s surface, carefully and properly polished. She wondered how much money such a creature could cost, or rather… How many lives of the slaves could go wasted in order for Alferdo Morr to buy that horse. Something in the girl’s chest turned upside down, fell hard and deep. She shouldn’t had thought about stuff like that if she didn’t want Elijah to be dissatisfied with her clean-up job. She hurried back inside, grasping a mop with both of her hands. Quite soon after the black stallion was led into the stables, Mr Morr and the stableman following behind. Annabel could hear them talk.

“Ah, by the way,” said the slave driver, “have you sent that nice fellow to the marketplace as I told you, Gregfield?”

“Yes, I did, sir,” the stableman replied, then added hastily, “but I strongly doubt he’s clever enough to choose a good saddle for a horse.”

“And I don’t doubt him. He’s a very good worker, he’s worth a chance to try. We should reward those who work hard, you know it. Otherwise they will go crazy, start to fight and even kill, and who needs that?” Mr Morr patted the black stallion on the neck and started to leave, but stopped for a second and said quietly, so Annabel could barely hear him, “And by the way, Gregfield, shut your mouth and never tell me your precious opinion unless I ask it of you.”

The stableman was taken aback. He stood there for half a minute, then rushed after his master, and they both disappeared in the house. Annabel shivered. What a disgusting sack of manure that man was.

Despite feeling like she had just witnessed something rotten and ugly, Annabel knew that certain things were now clear to her. All you had to do in this entire hell of a house was to work hard and be quiet, like an obedient dog you were treated as. If you were a hard worker, you could get a chance to leave the mansion, at least because Mr Morr would want you to do some extra job. To leave! You can run if you catch a moment, Annabel thought, and everything started to spin around her. The idea overwhelmed her for a few seconds. To think that Susanne and everybody else was so wrong this entire time! Although is sounded like a very dangerous venture, it was still better than running away at night when the watchers are on patrol with the hounds. Well, get yourself together now, said the girl to herself. You’ll do it because you’re smart. You must start thinking it through. Victor failed because he was too fast to make decisions, but the whole thing might take a while. So begin planning. Begin now.

Begin this very second.

The Garden.

That was the sign above the main gate in front of the mansion’s front door. Annabel saw it for the very first time when Elijah brought her and two other children to the nearby village. She hadn’t known Mr Morr was a man of such a specific kind of creativity. He’d called his mansion The Garden, a place where every kid and adult had been a valuable flower. Flowers to be sold, flowers to decorate someone’s else house, flowers to be a useless entertainment. Annabel shivered on the thought. Only things for somebody to play with... If I have to be a flower, she thought with a somewhat ruthless feeling in her heart, then I’ll be an oleander. A flower that was famous for its poison, as her mother had told her before.

Elijah had decided to give Annabel a serious job for the first time. During the past five months she had shown herself as a hard-working, reliable, and stubborn girl who was able to do anything she’d been asked to do, through pain and exhaustion, so the watcher considered her a good candidate for a task in the village. Kids and adults had to buy goods for The Garden, work on a particular spot to get more resources for the mansion, or bring Mr Morr some important rumors the villagers were sharing. “I hope you still remember how to count money,” said Elijah when they were on their way to the village.

“I do,” Annabel replied. Her parents had taught her before, and Elijah had already checked her knowledge a few times.

“Your task will be to go to the market place and buy what’s written here,” he handed her a small piece of paper. A messy handwriting stated it was necessary to buy milk, apples, porridge and a lot of other things. “And don’t try to run,” Elijah reminded her as they eventually made it to the main street and stopped the cart.

“Why would I?” Annabel grinned widely at him, grabbed a basket, took the list, and hurried up the street to find the place where the locals used to shop. Her carefree attitude felt like a mistake, but no matter what was coming up, Annabel was ready.

Everything went better than she expected. She had no problems neither with the residents, nor with Elijah who was guarding her intentions the whole day, once again reminding her of a big angry dog. For the work she did, despite her debut trip outside the mansion, Annabel wasn’t rewarded, but Elijah said he'd take her to the village again in the next few days. That was the moment Annabel understood how close she was to the real success. Elijah seemed to trust her, maybe not too much yet, but quite enough to deceive him once there was a clear opportunity she was looking for.

One day, very soon, she would go to do her job, and while he wouldn’t be watching, she would run away from that wicked place. The plan wasn’t that perfect or safe so far because it relied a lot on immediate improvising, and Annabel had always known how much of an adventurer and fast thinker she was. Anyway, Elijah isn’t that smart, she pondered, but he’s awfully alert, though. I can dupe the pup him if I’m careful.

Soon after her first trip to the village, a new buyer came to The Garden.

Annabel had seen the process of sale before, but somehow had never minded it. Perhaps it’s because she hadn’t been that close to freedom, for this time she felt even more than plain disgust, more than anger when she saw a big, colorful carriage arrive to The Garden and park in the yard. She knew what was about to happen, and she didn’t like it a single bit.

Mr Morr left the house to greet his guest. Elijah and two other watchers controlled slaves and forced them to keep working, although so many people wanted to throw at least a glance at the man who came out of the carriage. Annabel turned around wrinkled her nose. It was a big fat monstrosity, his face was almost beetroot red, his eyes didn’t open properly because of fat cheeks, and his chin seemed to be even more than triple the normal size. He smelled like alcohol. The man was ugly and pretentious, and Annabel was afraid to think of who he would possibly choose to purchase.

Mr Morr, being sweet like a candy, and his ugly guest talked for a minute, then they proceeded to the house, followed by two servants. Mr Morr waved to Elijah and told him something before going inside, after which the watcher went back to the yard. He whispered a couple of words to his friends, other watchers, and started looking for somebody. Annabel watched him take two girls of sixteen to the barrel filled with clear water so that they could wash their faces and hands, then he went to the house with the girls in tow. Two watchers followed with three seventeen years old girls and a girl Annabel recognized right away. Susanne.

It became obvious that the rich fat guy wanted to have a young girl slave or maybe a servant, and Elijah with the others were told to bring the best girls for him to choose from. Annabel stiffened. What could that man need from them, so young and clean creatures yet, who had done no evil to anyone? Annabel tried not to make any assumptions, but her fear rose into a panic all of a sudden. It can’t be that awful, she thought. Please, let it be not that awful.

Annabel looked around and set her broom against the wall. She knew she would be punished for leaving her work if Elijah found out, but her heart was almost torn apart by her messy thoughts. She couldn’t even imagine what she would do to help those girls, but she decided to improvise right on the spot if needed.

It wasn’t difficult to sneak into the house, but there was a real problem inside – no place to hide. Annabel knew some corners, but none of them were suitable for watching people in the living room and eavesdropping. She passed by the slightly open door, as if by accident, peering inside for a second: the fat man and Mr Morr were sitting in big deep chairs with full glasses of liquid in their hands, laughing at something.

“I’m too bored after my wife’s left with that young handsome artist,” said the fat man’s loathsome creaky voice. It sounded fakely sad. Annabel had to move a step aside and didn’t hear Mr Morr’s response, but she knew it was even more disgusting.

Before anyone could notice her presence, she sneaked behind another door she knew leaded to the basement and waited there for Elijah and his friends to enter the guest room. Once again Annabel stiffened as if somebody hit her heart with a thousand knives – those girls seemed to be so unprotected, so fragile and lonely that Annabel couldn’t look at them without a painful feeling burning her from the inside. When the watchers disappeared in the living room, she heard loud voices again, and then the door creaked closed.

Annabel looked around carefully and went outside when nobody showed up in the corridor. She tiptoed to the door and realized it wasn’t closed properly, probably due to the fact that it was as old as everything in the mansion; there’d been left a tiny gap and light was barely pouring through it. Annabel could hear Mr Morr speaking.

“They are the best flowers in my garden, lord Sanders. You may pick any with no doubt.”

Annabel peered through the gap and saw seven girls standing in a row – the best way to show off flowers to a client, Annabel guessed. A chill went down her spine.

Lord Sanders rocked from side to side in the giant chair, cigar in his hand, and studied the girls in front of him with a vulgar smile. Annabel wished she could take a brick, or a weighty board, and smash his face to wipe that look off it. But she tried to care more about girls; they were standing with their heads low, looking down at their toes as they’d been told, breathing quietly, nervous.

Suddenly lord Sander’s eyes stopped on Susanne. He put the cigar in his mouth, grinning with vile satisfaction.

“This one seems lovely to me,” he said, nodding at the young girl.

Mr Morr reacted with a wide smile, showing his crystal-white teeth.

“A very good choice, very good, lord Sanders,” he said approvingly and snapped his fingers, making a sign for the watchers to leave the room and take away other girls.

Annabel stilled. Something paralyzed her, she didn’t even know what it was – maybe fear, or maybe sincere anger she felt at that moment. She was so focused on Susanne who was now almost crying in the middle of the guest room that she didn’t notice Elijah coming. Their eyes met when the boy opened the door and almost collapsed with Annabel. He looked over his shoulder in panic, and then tucked the girl behind the corner to the left before Mr Morr could notice both of them.

“What are you doing here?” He hissed at her furiously. He looked out carefully only to see his friends’ backs turned to him – they were walking away.

“What will he do to her?” Annabel asked, but her voice felt like a lump in the throat; it trembled miserably.

“It’s none of your concern,” Elijah replied sourly, looking down at her.

“What will he do to her? Please, tell me!”

“I don’t know!” The watcher snapped. “He’ll do whatever he wants, that’s all.”

Annabel looked Elijah in the eyes and saw, beyond all ruthlessness and the cold of his soul, something else, something that seemed to be longing when he turned around to see that Susanne was not leaving the room.

“Now go back before I killed you.” He pushed Annabel down a back way corridor when nobody was there and disappeared in the living room again. The girl didn’t know what to do and wasn’t sure if she could ever do anything. Susanne was no more a part of The Garden, but lord Sander’s own property. Maybe Annabel could fight them, tell them how ugly they were, punch that fat lord in the jaw at least?.. Don’t be ridiculous, she thought to herself, it won’t help anybody...

Annabel turned from the door and left the house using the back entrance. She couldn’t believe what just happened: she used to think of herself as of a brave, outrageous girl, though she was only thirteen, and now it seemed like the truth wasn’t nearly as good as she hoped.

Annabel ran outside and waited behind an old wooden cart for Mr Morr, lord Sanders and Elijah to come out and proceed to the big rich carriage. Susanne walked with her head still hung low, but Annabel noticed she wasn’t crying anymore. She was… careless. Elijah told her to get into the carriage with the same cold look, and Annabel realized in the thousandth time that she was just imagining things about his kind nature hidden deeply down inside him.

That night Annabel couldn’t fall asleep. She kept thinking about what happened right before her eyes and couldn’t forget Susanne’s last look – frozen, dull, negligent, like one of a fallen angel who had suffered too much to complain about its life. But something now worried Annabel even more than it used to before: what if the same thing happened to Annabel herself? What if she would also be taken by another obnoxious fat lord to entertain him, or to bring him his morning tea and spend nights in his bed if it would be his wish? No, no, for Heaven’s sake no! You’ve promised yourself Annabel, you’ve promised you’ll never let it happen. You must keep your word.

A few hours before bedtime Elijah told her that he was going to bring her along to the village again on the next day.