Hi. I know that this isn't all that good, but I just wanted to post something so I can have something posted. Haha. Well, I hope you like it. This is the first part of my short story, Stars. It's set in the 1800s - Paris, France.
Thanks for reading! I really appreciate anyone who takes their time to comment.
_
Deep in the slums of Paris, an unruly boy eyed a half-concealed wallet. Pierre twitched his long fingers anxiously, his eyes never leaving the bulging wallet. Tall men concealed his small figure in shadows as they hurried about their business, not standing in one position too long.
Passers-by weren’t even able to catch the slightest glimpse at the small boy as he smoothly slid the fat wallet out from the gentleman’s pocket. The monsieur was, granted, deep in conversation with a madam by the name of Veronica Passelle. The lovely lady batted her eyes and smiled feverously, beckoning for the monsieur to compliment her.
Pierre retreated back into the shadows, his blue eyes gleaming. His twisted smile showed his few teeth as he nodded to Veronica. She received the notion and looked around her, as if remembering something.
“What is it, my dear madam?” the monsieur questioned, his voice growing exceedingly apprehensive. He stuck his arm out and touched Veronica’s gloved hand. She looked startled and pulled away.
“Mon mari attend. My husband is waiting,” she sighed and glanced over her delicate shoulder. Of course, there was no lucky monsieur waiting to greet her with loving arms. Veronica only saw the desperate beggars upon the streets of Paris.
“Your husband?” the monsieur asked, startled. His face reddened and he held his hands behind his back. “Then I shall not keep you waiting!” He bowed and turned away, his face still maroon.
Veronica glanced into the shadows, trying to catch Pierre’s gleaming eyes. She met them and slightly nodded. The young rascal returned the gesture and scurried off into the darkness.
Veronica looked around the small plaza she was standing in. It was almost supper; not many men were out. They had walked gleefully into their homes and received a heartfelt supper. But not Veronica. She hadn’t had a heartfelt supper for quite a while now.
She turned and walked along the cobble-stoned path. Her feet made a small pat with every step she took, and she whistled quietly to herself. When she whistled, she could finally have freedom, or it felt like to her. Freedom to do what she wanted and not be lectured constantly by adults.
Veronica, a mere sixteen year old, could be found whistling to herself carelessly. There was always a sparkle present in her eye. The gleam would repel all horrible thoughts and horrible nightmares. Pierre, her younger brother, didn’t understand her ways. She was quite different from everyone else. Veronica never thought pessimistically about their current living situation.
Veronica looked behind her, reassuring herself that she was alone. Her heart began throbbing; her pulse rushing. It is the dark, she reminded herself. It is only the dark. There's no one behind me. I am alone.
Taking another glance, she was startled. Almost screaming out of fright, she beheld a little boy, dressed in ragged clothes. His short hair had been cut fiercely with a razorblade. Dirt was powdered across his frail face, and his eyes gleamed in the moonlight – just like his sister’s.
“Pierre! Don’t 'Ou scare me like that ever again!” she whispered and the boy laughed gleefully. He approached her with the fat wallet in his hand. The twisted smile was playing upon his filthy face.
“’Ow much did we earn?” Veronica asked, her eyes scrutinizing the bulging wallet. There couldn’t have been more than twenty francs in there…
“Thirty-three. I counted ‘em twice. And don’t you go rattling on about me not being able to count ‘em right. ‘Cause I did,” Pierre argued scornfully.
Veronica couldn’t keep her face straight any longer. A wide grin slowly etched its way across her freckled face. She pushed her long, red hair back – a common annoyance.
“Let me see, then.”
“Not ‘ere! Back at the ‘ouse.”
The two siblings slowly made their way through the shadows, caressing the wallet happily. Greedily, Veronica pondered on what she could purchase with such money. A beautiful necklace; a pair of stockings; a haircut; a loaf of bread! The list extended until her stomach growled. Pierre overheard.
“’Ave you not eaten anyfink today? Ver, you’ve got to. Stop giving it all to me. You’ve got to eat.”
“I eat… sometimes,” she retorted quietly. “It’s just I’m not all that hungry.” Even though she seemed confident, Pierre raised his eyebrow.
“Ver, please. We can get some food with that money tomorrow. It’s what we need, isn’t it?” Pierre asked. The gleam was still shining brightly in his eyes.
“Yes, I suppose…”
“Good,” Pierre said. “’Ere we are.” They approached their living space – no more than an abandoned shop that had been used only God knew when. It was ruins by now, of course, as it had been when they had settled in. The French Revolution had destroyed many buildings, and lost many lives. Two of them included their parents.
Sitting down, she wrapped herself up tightly in her frail clothing as Pierre did. The two nestled together and hugged each other.
“We’ll be alright. I know it,” Pierre whispered. Sighing, Veronica looked into his eyes.
“How do you know?”
“I… I just do, I suppose. Ver, do you know where our parents are?”
There was a long silence as the two children gazed up through the roof. Stars shined overhead – not covered by thick clouds anymore.
“Yes. They are in Heaven, just like we will be.”
“How do you know?” Pierre continued to look at the stars.
“I don’t know… I just do.”
“You see? That’s how I know we’ll be all right. They are watching over us, up there.”
“Who is?”
“The stars, of course! You see, every one of them has a person to look over.” Pierre smiled as he continued his fantasy. “Mine is over there!” He pointed to the countless stars. “You just have to find yours. Once you do, you’ll know that everything will turn out all right.”
“Hmm… I suppose you’re right, Pierre,” Veronica sighed regretfully. Her eyes made their way back down to Pierre’s bright face. “But how do I know when I find my star?”
There was another moment’s pause.
“You just do.”
I read your first paragraph and thought to myself, Oh dang, he's good. Better get picky! I suggested something! 
Welcome to YWS, I'm Fire, Arris, FA, Firearris, you you can make up a name. Now on with the crit! 
But I like this scene. 
But nothing bad other than that, in my opinion. 
Wow. This was really really good. Your writing style is very nice, and I really, really like your characters. One of my favorite things is that Veronica is having a hard time but her brother has a way of using an optimistic outlook. It's realistic, kids are usually like that. I'm partially biased because I just love this type of writing.
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